Telescope

by Mark R Slaughter

Why?

Frozen fingers fiddled on the focus
Dew dripped
Dark hindered
Constellations laughed –
Not least that I was daft –
And made me wonder:

“Why?”

As nostrils dripped, charts rung damp,
I tripped across the tripod,
Swore – either that or cry!
You’d HAVE to question:

“Why?”

The once-hot chocolate lost its charm,
I dropped an eyepiece,
Scratched a filter,
Neighbours’ lights were off and on
And on and off, to goad a sigh;
I’m asking loudly:

“Why?”

And then I found it –
O! the view; behold! the need for depth of night! –
These beauteous heavens out of sight
From straining naked eyes.

Imagination fires a flame –
Sanity free of any blame –
This childish verve to never tame:

My telescope is not a game –
It answers all the “Why’s?”

Copyright ©:  Mark R Slaughter

End of the poem

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Some external links:

The Bat’s Own Poetry Cave 

Talking Writing Monster.

Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US

Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe

Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).

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