Through stately vaulted epochs, nature lies.
Within the grand exterior abide
Its cramped curated corridors. Surmise
How densely braided narrows add up wide.
Exhaustive alcoves crib and fossilize,
With plastered captioned fact, the herds that died.
Museums grant, when sparing no expenses,
A teeming shrine of archived consequences.
Behold how dolphin skeletons must soar
To make way for hyped Mesozoic blight.
Famed Allosaurus claims the central floor;
Its Aves heirs sit shelved nigh out of sight.
Small upstart mammals loiter near the door
To offshoot hallways lined with all things -ite.
Yes, even geodes—banished to the border—
Succumb to dead T-Rex’s pecking order.
The above two stanzas comprise a partial takeaway from my recent visit to the University of Michigan’s Museum of Natural History. I went there for a science-themed artist date, following a week which included some frustrating writer’s block. I decided to practice a poetic form called ottava rima. As should be readily apparent when reading, the meter is iambic pentameter and the rhyme scheme is abababcc.
As humans explore Mars, and even the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, we hunt for the very types of things showcased in our natural history museums. Visit them. Take stock of your reactions. And if you are so inclined, write a poem after!
For more poetry-focused posts, visit the Poetry Tag.