Hi and welcome to my Friday series The Hairbag Poet.

 

In the blogging world Fridays are known as Poetry Friday.  You can read about Poetry Friday here. I will plan on posting The Hairbag Poet each Friday.

You can read about the history of this series here.

Each and every week I post a picture, and write a poetic interpretation of what I’m seeing, but I didn’t realize (because I’m the Hairbag Poet) that this is actually a type of poetry known as Ekphrasis. In Greek Ekphrasis means description. According to Poetry Foundation,  “An ekphrastic poem is a vivid description of a scene or, more commonly, a work of art. Through the imaginative act of narrating and reflecting on the “action” of a painting or sculpture, the poet may amplify and expand its meaning.”

Ironically my brother has been doing a study/portfolio/ of his Wand of Knowledge toting Alien, and has sent me two photos this week of Alien family experiences in the snowy tundra of Maine.  I say ironically because I too have been a bit alien obsessed, having found the new X-File series recorded in the free on demand section of my cable. Have I been living under a rock not knowing that Scully and Mulder were back in action?  Can I just say how happy I am!

I’ve titled this poem Coming Home, both for the Alien photo, and my nostalgic return to one of my favorite T.V. series.

I hope you enjoy these posts. Thanks for stopping by and reading, and please feel free to post your own poetry in the comments if you feel inspired by the photographs. I always love reading other peoples perspective on “art”.

We hale from solar system
X-241.
Our planet is Ogda.
It’s warmed by one sun.

We traveled through space
to learn and explore,
when our vehicle crashed
on your Maine ocean floor.

We signaled for help,
but our systems were down
so we swam to the shore,
and walked into town.

Your planet is harsh
Your language is odd
we were chased from the sea
by an angry clawed mob

We need to find shelter,
safety, protection
contact command
and prepare for ejection.

This abandoned old house
will do nicely I think,
with its minty green shutters
and door painted pink.

My offspring and I
will camp here for the night.
Our Wand of All Knowledge
provides crystal light.

This plastic pitched shelter
will be our new home
where our space crafts can land
in this crude aerodrome.

I open the door,
and step quickly inside
relieved to discover
its unoccupied.

My Wand of all Knowledge
is fixed with a chip
that signals distress
to our home mothership.

It may take some time
for help to arrive
my offspring and I
must learn to survive

in this place they call Maine
with its downy white lands
and monstrous sea creature’s
double clawed hands.

Will the aliens be rescued?  Will Mulder and Scully be called in to investigate strange Maine alien sightings? Will the smoking man and his shadow government conspire to get there first?

Stay tuned. Until next week…