Hard As Diamond #DVersePoets

It takes 725,000 pounds per square inch

to transform carbon to diamond.

Pressure forces the atoms to crystallise

which sounds fragile in truth,

like spun sugar, beautiful, but soluble.


Yet they hitchhike magma flows,

erupt without warning

land where they may.

The sort of precious

men kill for.


Rough cut they are still priceless.



they still remember being carbon.



The Dying Of The Light

What if we are already at the end.

The last planet in a dead universe

watching the echoes of eternity

play out through telescope lenses.

Despite the probes, the satellites,

maybe there is nothing left to find.

Someone, something else explored it all first,

planted their own flags

built their own marvels and wonders,

only to inch away into dust

before we even opened our eyes.


Tonight’s prompt for the Poetics Evening over at dVerse is ‘The End’. It’s funny, I was pondering this idea the other day and started wondering if we could be the last speck of light in a dying universe. It’s a somewhat depressing thought but as someone who spends their time buried in history it was interesting to think that the whole greater beyond could be just that, history already.

*The title is taken from Dylan Thomas’ poem.*


“What are you working on?”

“Homework.” Samuel said, curling his arms over the papers as his mother leaned in over his shoulder.

“Can I see?” she asked, washing balanced on one hip ready to be deposited onto the bed three feet away. “Come on, I can keep a secret.” she whispered, fingers stretched out ready to tickle behind Samuel behind his ear.

“It’s not finished.” said Samuel, “Maybe later.”

“Please.” His mother pouted.

“Fine!” Shoving himself back from the desk he let his mother see the blueprints. “I told you though it’s not finished, I can’t get the automated technon to match up to the atom combustion motor which means there is no hope of glutalge malification or jeramia coolage taking place!”

His mother blinked.

“What would happen if you-” she touched a point on the blueprints.

“Boom.” said Samuel. “Very big boom!”

“Oh.” she said. “I’ll leave you to it, you’re father is expecting me to call him about dinner.”

Samuel watched her scurrying out the room only to return moments later and set the washing on the bed.

“Hey.” he said. “When you call Dad can you see if he’s got any grade six humarationbrit alloys lying around?”

“Of course dear.” said his mother, “anything else.”

Samuel thought for a moment.

“Do we have any jelly?” he asked.

Continue reading “Blueprints”