(Part of a poetry slam with Chris Clarke)
The way a friend
The tweets I send
On days I’m #blue
Tells my heart
I’m never going to give you up
I’m never going to let you down
Never going to run around and desert you
Originally posted on Google+, copied to Making Light.
- Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That we in dark and deeply mined
Chasms of black Moria find.
And we will sit beneath the ridge
And watch the Balrog keep the bridge
Above the fiery pit whose smoke
Makes even orcish fighters choke.
- The watchmaker
Who rigged for me
The warp drive flange
Out of space debris
Has given my crew
A working ship
So we’ll make it through
From this scouting trip.
- We’ve tried each spinning space mote
And reckoned its true worth:
Take us back again to the homes of men
On the cool, green hills of Earth.
Rocannon has windbeasts
And hilfs who act like lords.
But you just might, if you have to fight,
Be spitted on their swords.
To ice-encrusted Gethen
Our coming was foretold.
But who’d have known we’d sleep alone
And wake up twice as cold?
The dusty moon Anarres
Is home to anarchists
Who can only live because they give
And by gifts their world exists.
While rich and fertile Urras
Is plagued with poverty.
The poor all cry looking at the sky
That the moon’s the place to be.
On peaceful settled O
The Night and Day are wed
Sedoretu build on the vows fulfilled
Both in and out of bed.
The Hainish sent out ships
For many a planetfall.
But changeling breeds in time have needs
To be Ekumenical.
We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth;
Let us rest our eyes on the friendly skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.
(Originally posted on Making Light)