Pie Corbett’s space poems

Blast off into the unknown and discover a galaxy of poems with Pie Corbett...

The Rubbish Tip Alien

Sitting on the tip,
quite quickly.
Choosing bit by bit,
quite slickly.

Hip hop hap
It’s the alien rap

Tractor wheels for eyes,
turn lazy.
Dustbin lids for ears,
creak crazy.

Hip hop hap
It’s the alien rap

Freezer for a head,
stares coldly.
Bedspring for a tongue,
juts boldly.

Hip hop hap
It’s the alien rap

Car grill for a mouth,
turns fiery.
Hoover for a nose,
burns wiry.

Hip hop hap
It’s the alien rap

Six Ways to Look at the Moon

The moon is an Olympic Stadium for intergalactic races -
planet jumping, star throwing and meteoric vaulting.

The moon is Cyclop’s eyeball, impassionate as
a death star.

The moon is a Titan’s silver boomerang,
transfixed forever.

The moon is a silver coin tossed, heads or tails,
wins or fails.

The moon is a polar bear’s eye, the arctic fox’s
paw print, the tip of the snowshoe hare’s nose.

The moon says, tonight’s O-K.

Space Staring

At night,
I lean out of the window
and sip cool darkness.

Speckles of starlight
freckle the night’s face.

The moon casts
bone-white light.

A fox nudges a dustbin,
hunting for scraps.

Sleek cats sneak
down back alleys –
a lone car accelerates
up the empty road.

Late night city lights glare,
glowering on street corners.

I whisper a wish into the silence.
A planet blinks its tiny red eye.
The space above me yawns forever.

Shop doorways settle down to sleep.
Dawn is a cup of coffee away.

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All poems © Pie Corbett 2011