UniVerses: Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry

Rhysling at the Bar

All women were beautiful to him.
                                 --Heinlein
 
Spaceman's luck! Don't you spill my sunberry crush,
Red as that Venusberg gal's nip--don't blush,
Miss--nip's all I meant, the tipples she used to pour me.
Don't say it: how'd I see you blush, being blind?
Heartbeats heat rosy as rads. And why do I sing?
Well, dark is better than light for everything
That matters--love, or poems. See? Your mind's

As clear to my mind's eye as your cute red face.
Bees do it (no, not birds--I'm serious, lass):
Wax their sweet grubs in sealed cells till their wings
Heir to air. Dust-to-dust's Man's wrecking-pace--
Stars', too, but not songs'--Hills, no: wit that stings,
Wisdom that soothes, like mead,
Hives in the hummin' head--
                   So rhyme, so Rhysling--
                                                             Riesling? Fill the glass!

 * * * * *
 
Theresa and Trelane
 (Based upon the Star Trek episode
 "The Squire of Gothos")
 

Pray tell me, lady, what it is you do
Wandering beneath the moon without a swain?
"Come live and be my love!"--the name's Trelane--
General, and squire, too;
The music plays, and we shall trip amain
A pas-de-deux.

Or pas-de-Dieux--I like that spelling more!
Beware boy-gods, Therese--myself, to start;
Dan Cupid next, who with heart-headed dart
Can wound full sore:
We, "beau"-men both, have in the archer's art
A perfect score.

Rings for your fingers! Music where you go!
All lovers promise worlds, but which have proved?
Them you years have far- and star-ward roved
Have seen, and thus you know
I only, of all men who ever loved,
Can make it so.

While stars in sarabande move, lord and dame,
What cheer, my sweet! Then make a little stay,
And join the dance, and fear no more than they
For name and fame;
"Till daybreak, when the shadows flee away,"
Come play the game!

* * * * *

The Black Guard's Ballad

"Hail to Dorothy"?
 
I have beaten my sword to a plowshare
To cut but the flesh of the land;
And my halberd now harrows, not harries
The foes of my acres' span;
I have built me a home in the valley--
I have wedded, bred sons--all so right--
But I gaze, these bright years, to the mountains with tears
And remember my hour of Night.

I once served the Witch in her castle,
Captain of all her guard;
Black were the deeds that we did then,
Bleak was our life, and hard.
Most folk think we were unwilling slaves
(With the Tin Man, who set us free),
But he knows naught of hearts, so new to that part,
As the Witch knew the heart of me.

When the moon rolls high like a crystal ball
In a sky like a wizard's gown,
I steal to the press where my uniform hangs
And tremblingly hale it down:
There is the coat of corpselight sheen
With trimmings as blood aflow;
The necklace of bone, and the busby's cone
Like a cloud of nightmare woe.

                      And these garments exhale an opiate fume
Till in vision I know once more
Our desperate charge, and the death-draught flung,
And our mistress a-twitch on the floor . . .
Now the sun stands above like Glinda's sphere,
Before which all evils fall;
But, unshadowing noon, I remember the moon,
And within me the Shadow stands tall.

Dr. Rose Wolf Kimbrough is the Assistant Director of High Hallack, the genre research library founded in 1999 by SF&F legend Andre Norton.  Rose holds a PhD in Science Fiction and Fantasy, and is the author of UniVerses, a collection of poetry published last year by Xlibris.  The three selections below are from UniVerses - they're inspired by Robert A. Heinlein, classic Star Trek and The Wizard of Oz, respectively.