jupiter

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gustav holst, Jupiter, planets, poems, poetry

jupiter

you make me laugh until we tumble
into this drift like asteroids
coaxed by gravity

to surround this jovial hydrogen bastard
who disturbs the belt
with his frivolous storms

laughter heals and lifts us past the pain
your tears on my shoulder and fictions
we dream together

love me for an hour then leave
traces of your orbit and clues you give
astronomers

to the sadness of the inner planets
where life only made them realize
they’re small

i will never let them touch you
with telescopes and equations
i will erase their blackboards and crush their lenses

until all they know is mystery like a fool
i would keep you to myself
though your brightness burns for everyone

annihilation comes easily
rejuvenation takes more effort
or none at all

one word
one touch
will inspire

Hear this poem read by Judy Cullen. Then go discover her work!

mercury

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gustav holst, Mercury, planets, poems, poetry

mercury

when you no longer hate the sun for shining
or curse it for bringing life
to our cold blue speck

when you run out of things to say
i will hold your heart in my hand
so you may count the petals of every flower

every hand that held another holds us
ache for me when i am gone
then realize i never leave you

write our manifesto and burn it
our buried chest of golden coins
will grow to a garden of stars

love it for me as if it is our child
my place is with you

we paint the stars together
when no one else is breathing
the moon hides below the horizon

our neighbors rise from beds
like corpses from their graves
unable to recall the songs

the mockingbird performed at 4 a.m.
the wind whistled down the asphalt
haunted only by coyotes

my modern mercury’s caduceus
is a radio tower pulsing
between realms like dreams

the serpents of his staff
become iron girders riveted to the sky
broadcasting love and fury

to the sons and daughters of lightning
spanning the globe under incandescent shelter
from midnight’s prehistoric treachery

clarity
communication
the courier’s gift
signals the dawn

mars

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gustav holst, Mars, planets, poems, poetry, war

mars

you and i have unfinished business

you taught me destruction
a skill for leaving trails
of unmarked graves and broken spears

your path leads nowhere but down

stone is your only element
you bask in the sun for millennia
and only learn what it means to burn

you serve neither love nor justice
but conquest as its own reward
its prize a thread of wounds and ash

what words could you offer for redemption

how dare you speak them
over the eulogy of rain
and falling earth

neptune

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gustav holst, Neptune, planets, poems, poetry

neptune

you wait when light abandons you
to a frozen ammonia tempest
forgiveness lives here no more

what becomes the sea without the sun
what tide is borne without the moon
to bear it

silent you drifted for centuries
while after you dreams dared not venture
and no one sang at all

holst named you the mystic
but what knowledge awaits
your desolation

the astronomer forsakes the city
for the unlit barrens
to see farther

past the realm of noise and mirth
and the din of blinding light
distraction

busy with nothing
he discovers
what lies
beyond

Note: Holst originally composed The Planets for two pianos, except for Neptune, which was an organ solo. Peter Sykes’ nine-minute organ transcription of Neptune captures a depth of tonality and emotion that surely would have pleased the composer.

The orchestral version:

uranus

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gustav holst, planets, poems, poetry, Uranus

Uranus

One side lies in darkness
never seeing light.
One side burns eternal day
to never see the night.

Celestial protogenitor,
Holst called you the Magician
whose wand bridges Earth and Heaven
to bring Idea to life.

Crowley called you Genius
but he knew the other side:
the pole unknown by light
descends to madness.

Without love, she turns to cruelty.
Thwarted, she seeks vengeance
like the Furies spawned from your blood
falling on the Earth.

But your blood on the waves birthed Beauty
who tempered the Furies,
turned them from their merciless mission
and made them protectors of her realm.

Thus, we know you are of two minds,
Uranus, Varuna, your coiled serpent rises.
Your first children were monsters.
Let us remember love, lest we become them.

saturn

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animal inside you, gustav holst, planets, poems, poetry, Saturn

Saturn

At your core, gravity crushes hydrogen
into liquid metal, where it becomes
an electric conductor.

Holst, the symphonic astrologer,
orchestrated your old age as
contemplative, serene.

A sadness boldly pondered
resolving into acceptance

a vast lake of hydrogen
where tumult settles into ripples,
then the polished perfection of pearls.

Your moons attend you.
A family of sixty-two descendants
and admirers. They cannot leave your side.

Have you still the strength to
swing your scythe and reap for them
a harvest? Prepare a feast for solstice.

Io, Saturnalia! Celebrate the sun
we thought was dying but was only
far away. Revelry summons rebirth.

Close the courts. No justice
may be served today, nor any war declared.
We have eaten enough of our children already.

Let them grow old as we did.
Give them time to reach this aphelion
and wear these rings themselves.

 

 

venus

Tags

animal inside you, gustav holst, planets, poems, poetry, Venus

Venus

Second daughter of the sun,
Holst imagined peace in your embrace.

Without a moon of your own
you thirsted for the man
to caress your cloudy tresses
with cellos and rapture.

But without his fantasy
he could never survive your
pressure, such peerless heat
dripping sulfurous sweat.

Volcanoes erupt and
recarve your surface again
and again until they render you
unrecognizable.

Yet Gustav dreamed of you,
and in the lies one’s mind
spins while sleeping

he saw you not as you are
but as he wished you to be:
tender, resplendent, radiant.