The Last Frontier Cafe
Out here, where stars brush against the dark,
we pour strong coffee for those passing through—
spacefarers, drifters, seekers of strange,
grit-laden souls on the edge of nowhere.
The tables murmur with tales of distant worlds,
of nebulae glowing like dusty trails,
and planets where storms roll sideways,
where gravity plays tricks, pulling rough and loose.
Each face is road-worn, etched in starlight,
marked by endless orbits and star-crossed paths,
and we serve them coffee hot and bold,
as they sit a spell before riding on.
I’ve heard the same stories a hundred times—
the captain who lost a crew to a star’s blaze,
the rogue who found love on a comet’s tail,
the miner who struck light on a far-off moon.
They come and go like tumbleweeds in a breeze,
dusting stardust from their coats and boots,
while I linger here, pouring cups and waiting,
bound to this outpost where stories cross.
And sometimes, late, when the stars burn low,
I wonder what keeps them coming back,
to this lonely spot in the endless dark,
this café on the last edge of light.
The Starbound Poet
I sail through stardust, pen in hand,
a wanderer in the endless dark,
searching the heavens for fragments of verse,
for secrets carved in light and shadow.
On planets where oceans breathe in rhythm,
I write of shores that stretch and sing,
watching as waves rise and fall,
reflecting the words I leave behind.
In nebulas of swirling mist,
I paint worlds in each line I trace,
colors shifting, shapes emerging,
a silent dance of galaxies remade.
Through forests of silver leaves,
I capture the whispers of the breeze,
words spinning into roots and branches,
as nature bends to echo my song.
And as I write, the stars respond,
their forms shifting beneath my pen—
and I wonder if I’m steering the storm,
or simply swept up in its flow.
Am I the poet, or the dream?
The architect, or something small?
A wanderer adrift within the scheme,
or the spark that ignites it all?
So I roam through worlds unknown,
each verse a guide, each line a key—
knowing every star I shape and see
leaves its mark, reshaping me.
Trevor Wright
Trevor Wright is a poet from Central Illinois whose work explores nostalgia, loss, and the unknown. Inspired by cosmic wonder, eerie mysteries, and the weight of memory, his poetry blends vivid imagery with emotional depth. He challenges himself to craft poems that linger, whether through haunting echoes of the past or the vast possibilities of the stars. When he’s not writing, he’s reading, collecting books, or exploring new ideas for his next piece. His work has appeared in various publications, and he continues to seek the stories hidden in the spaces between.