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Sunday On Venus – Poem

A poem by one of our readers, Carol Jenkins. Are you a Budding Poet? Have your poem published in MiNDFOOD magazine too.

Sunday On Venus – Poem

 

A day on Venus takes 243 earth days, a year 224 earth days.

The morning lie-in goes on longer, expanding so you might read
War & Peace, no need to rush as time, being so ample
— nearly in excess — the bait in its own trap, invites you to linger,

to dissolve into the moment like Aspirin losing itself as it tumbles
through a glass of water, and the oh! then it’s a bustle, dust falls
constantly, so it’s a hasty swipe at housework —— the sun’s angle of illumination

is so unforgiving at this hour, then you’re mooning around in the hunt
for shoes and racquet, the keys of course, but it’s Sunday on Venus,
so you’re not late and your every hour multiplied by 243, every tennis match

extended by the same, go easy there’s over one hundred times
more serve-volley rushes, an unthinkable number of double faults, till
quite satiated, it’s back home to gardening, to note the trees too have more time

to spread leaves and bark, (indulge me, I know no trees are seen on Venus)
The day time oozes along, a colloidal mass, even shadows more defined by the proximate
position to that Old Fool. On Venus the loveliness of twilight hangs

like a cloth of gold and ruby in the west, heralds the slow closing
in of night. Day’s end on Venus, so generous with its Venetian
slides into a night of the same measure. The feeling is the days
go on forever but the years, the years, go by so fast.

CAROL JENKINS
Mosman, NSW

 

Are you a Budding Poet? Have your poem published in MiNDFOOD magazine here

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