The Moon is locked into the Earth, She only shows her best side, Keeps her dark side turned away. But the Earth has nothing to hide, Beneath her gaze, we spin on full display, For the Earth is not beholden to the Moon – Not yet, at least – And it won’t be soon, For the Earth is a massive beast. Yet the Moon is trying, trying, And will yet succeed, one day – But not before the seas have boiled away.
Now take a smaller star instead, Like Proxima Centauri – Very dwarven, very red, But orbiting we see Proxima b A planet similar to Earth, A tenth as close as Mercury With liquid water on its bed – Except, to be precise, More likely steam and ice, With one side always baking dry, The other frozen, dark and dead You see, when this close in, it does not spin – But wait, that’s wrong, We ought to say it has a year-long day. (About eleven Earth-days long).
Now let’s imagine orbiting round Rigel, A super-blue, so hot and bright, And though a massive mass, his heat and light Outpace his gravity – So if we were to move the Earth to where We’ll get a decent share to keep it all anthropical, To keep the Arctic icy and to keep the tropics tropical, We wouldn’t be so deep within his spacetime cavity. You see – we’d need to be about, say, twelve-times-Neptune out – That’s over two light-days. Our seasons would last centuries, our year now thirteen-hundred years And all to catch enough, but strictly not too many rays. And actually, the daylight would be rather dim, I hear – As most of Rigel’s output, it appears, Is in the UV band, And not the visible so much, not that far out. So even though it’s warm, no doubt, The photosynthesis of plants now won’t get such a shout, While all of us get super-tanned. His stellar wind is vicious, but I think we could withstand From this far off – but satellites may end in tears. But at least we get to spin on our own gears, So that’s a win. Rigel hasn’t got a hope to lock us in !
As I understand it, a planet wouldn’t naturally form so far out from its parent star, as there’s not enough material. Of course, it could be a captured rogue planet or ripped from another star.
Also, I saw Rigel’s name written bown in the astronomy books of my youth long before I hard anyone ever pronounce it, so gor me Rigel will always have a hard G.
I spy…well bless my eye, A comet shot across the sky. Is this a sign ? For good or bad ? Is this how God would toast the lad ? I know what doubters say: That comets happen anyway.
I spy…well how ’bout this: Two planets close enough to kiss. And sure they’re bright…but bright enough ? Is that how God announces stuff ? I know how doubters mock: Conjunctions happen by the clock.
I spy…hang on…alright, A supernova bursting bright ! Now those are rare, so what’s that worth ? And yet…A death to hail a birth ? I know how doubters sneer: These things take months to disappear.
I spy…well here’s some more: A nova ? Or a meteor ? I guess…but not the clearest clue – Is this the best that God can do ? I know the doubters’ line: Why not just magic up the sign ?
I spy…I know, I know… A pagan myth that steals the show, When ev’ry ancient hero born Was heralded before the morn. I know what doubters see: That stars are stars, so let them be.
Another eclipse I’ve missed, I’ve missed, Just like the others that passed me by – Ev’ry couple of years there’s one In Vladivostok or Uruguay – But they never shine round here these days, They never shine round here…
I s’pose I could go chase them, chase them, To the Hindu Cush or the Cape But all that cost, and what if it’s cloudy ?, For two-odd minutes of tickertape… And they never dance round here these days, They never dance round here…
Stand in a spot a long time, long time, Eventually, an eclipse will call – But nothing can ever be worth such a wait, In longer than empires rise and fall. And they won’t rise up round here these days, They never rise round here.
Another eclipse I’ve missed, I’ve missed, And maybe I’ll miss them ev’ry one – But life goes on regardless if The moon may cross before the sun And the sun still shines round here these days, The sun still shines round here.
The books call this an igneous province, As if a country of lava – They also call these rocks an intrusion, So more of an empire, rather. But due to the terraces up the plateau, They mostly call them traps – As if they’re prisoners to their nature, Till their lands collapse. Rocks push up from underneath By stealth or by explosion, To reinforce the battle With the forces of erosion. The books call these the flood basalts That roll across the shield Unstoppable, a stony horde That sweep the battlefield.
I’ll gladly say I love you, If you don’t ask if I love you More than all the stars above – For what mere girl can stir up so much love To turn the sternest head ? Nuclear fusion, supernovas, black hole cuties, Diamond-cored and shifted ruby-red – It isn’t fair that I compare you To the very heavens’ beauties Turning all the inky velvet pearled – For they are truly gems from out this world.
I’ll gladly say I love you, If you don’t ask if I love you Till the saline seas run dry. For what mere girl can draw out such a sigh To spring the harshest heart ? Continents crashing, mountains leaping, plates migrating, Magma-cored and slowly wrenched apart – It isn’t fair that I compare you To the very land creating Granite, quartz, and crystals, forged and furled – For they are truly gems within this world.
I’ll gladly say I love you, If you don’t ask if I love you Even more than life itself – For what mere girl can equal so much wealth To spark the jadest eye ? Bejewellèd beetles, primrose blossom, eagles soaring, Helix-cored and left to multiply – It isn’t fair that I compare you To the fruits of blind exploring – Trunks and scales and proteins tightly curled – For they are truly gems upon this world
I’ll gladly say I love you If you don’t ask if I love you Like a this or that or other-hand – For what mere boy can try to understand What all this wonder means ? Ricochet rapture, all things quickly, nothing mildly, Empty-cored and barely out my teens – It isn’t fair that you compare me To a firefly flitting wildly Through the endless lures in which I’m swirled – I’ve never known such gems for all the world.
I hear they’ve found another Super-Earth Around another star – A bit bigger round the waist, But still as rocky as we are. The gravity is stronger, So the mountains are all lower, But there’s no reason at all That some life is not a goer. Maybe life much smarter Than the likes us down here, But life that never gets to cross The endless void, I fear. They, like us, can only run so fast, Can only reach so high, But they must drag a greater ball-and-chain Before they fly.
You see, that could have been us, Had the Earth and Mars collided In the days before the days Before the proto-cells divided. Life could still arise From the planetary ash, But could never hope to reach the Moon (If the Moon survived the crash). Rockets can only burn so bright, But the g-force rises, ev’ry thrust – When you have to ride a nuke to fly, You’ll orbit as a smear of dust. That’s the price of gravity’s embrace – We’re hers for keeping – And she’s a hard mistress, gravity, Possessive and unsleeping.
Except, of course, our planet is Just small enough to jump and fly, (Not that we have, we grounded individuals Trapped beneath the sky). But others of our species have, And probes have sent our eyes to dance With Jupiter and Mercury – And all because we had the chance. And when the Sun is old and red, Then we’ll be gone to boldly go – Yet till that day, we only get to dream Of all we’ll never know. We may be stranded in the well, But we are safe and warm, all told – I hear it’s very beautiful up there, But oh, so cold…
Right at the bottom of the Zodiac, he lies –
At the bottom of the garden, at the bottom of the sky –
Barely rising high enough above the privet hedges,
As he’s hugging the horizon – just a hello and goodbye.
Battling through the light-infested night (plus those long evenings),
Peeking out from skies that are perpetually grey –
From the top floor of a tower block, I bet he looks a treat,
But for us, he’s always hidden by the roofs across the way.
Strange to think, how satellites would watch us from above,
Back when they flew –
Sometimes sinister, I guess, but mostly were benign enough –
And what a view !
They photographed our towns, and all the towns across the Earth
We’d never see –
They let us zoom in anywhere, from Minsk to Bogota to Perth
And all for free !
They beamed our television down, they watched the clouds and rain,
They showed us Mars –
They navigated us around, then brought us safely home again,
And shone like stars –
Before their orbitals were filled with shrapnel, deadly fast,
That took them out –
The age of satellites became the age when flying junk amassed –
It’s all about !
So now, of course, we’re trapped upon the Earth, trapped in the past
Without those eyes,
For years – until the tug of friction rains them down at last,
And clears the skies.
Ptolemy, he knew the skies – At least, that much he saw of them Of course, he only had his eyes, And only words for drawing them.
He plotted out the vibrant stars Upon each underlying figure, But where ran the linking-bars Were sketched with far less rigour.
And then there were the hinterlands, The unincorporated flames Between the cities – roguish bands Too faint to ever warrant names.
He never saw the very South, The depths beneath the Argo’s keel, The Eridanus to its mouth, The wings and scales which pole-wards wheel.
So later gazers filled the gaps With modern and precision tools – They’re lacking in some myths, perhaps, A free-for-all where logic rules.
But Ptolemy has the last laugh, Those empty spaces serve their turn – For ev’ry dim and dull giraffe, Shall help his bears to brightly burn,
And sailors through the years are wise, From triremes to ships-of-the-line, To just ignore the cluttered skies And let Polaris shine.
Infact, Ptolomy names hardly any off the stars in his Almagest, with only the following:
Bootes: Arktouros (Arcturus) Lyra: Lyra (now called Vega) Heniochos (Auriga): Aix (now Capella) & Haedi (now called Haedus I & II, except Haedus I is now called Sadatoni). Also of note is a passing reference to some stars being known as ‘Antonous’, a sort of mini constellette. Aetos (Aquila): Aetos (now called Altair, which like Vega is a later Arabic name) Tauros (Taurus): The Hyades & The Pleiades Karkinos (Cancer): Onoi (Aselii, now Aselius Borealis & Australis). Leon (Leo): Basiliskos (Regulus), and also mentions an asterism called Plokamos (Coma Berenices) but doesn’t consider it a separate constellation (unlike today). So should I have named this poem Fifty ? Parthenos (Virgo):Protrygeter (now Vindemiatrix) & Stachys (Spica) Skorpios (Scorpius): Antares – the anti-Ares, or rival of Mars. Kyon (Canis Major): Kyon (Sirius) – Ptolemy names both the constellation and its brightest star ‘The Dog’, even though the name Sirius (or rather, Seirios) is both Greek and older. He also thought it looked reddish, which makes no sense (and it couldn’t be the final red giant phase of Sirius B, as there would still be evidence of nubulosity). Prokyon (Canis Minor): Prokyon (Procyon, as in pre-Kyon) which name he also gives the constellationas a whole – all two stars of it – I’ve always thought it looks more like Canis Major’s bone). Argo: Kanobos (Canopus)
Interesting that all bar two are still non-Arabic, though only Antares survives unscathed, with a few others receiving only a light Latin makeover. Surprisingly, no mention is made of the two brightest stars in Gemini being named as Castor & Pollux. These are also the names of the Twins themselves, so presumably their transfer onto the stars is later. But even more surprising is that the Greeks aparently didn’t think it worth naming Betelgeuse, Rigel or Alpha Centauri.
