Sci-fi is a great untapped vein for future poets.
It is now such an established art form it gives the imagination of poets whole vistas of space and time as subject matter.
Battle at the Black Hole
The inter-stellar cruisers clashed
Too close to the event.
And as gravitic forces smashed,
It seemed like time was bent.
The hole was an unholy thing
And not a place to fight
And therein death will have its sting,
As it sucks in all light.
The cruisers went in one by one,
It was not in their plan
And so before the day was done,
It ate up every man.
They elongated at the rim
As time seemed to stand still.
Their end then was drawn out and grim,
For gravity will kill.
If it should win the drawn-out fight,
That is the end of matter.
When black holes feed, despite each bite,
They just do not get fatter.
© Trevor Morgan 31.1.2018