Few people know that many of the world’s great poets were abducted by aliens at least once in their lifetimes.

Not only did these abductions affect the poets profoundly, but the experiences inspired poems that later evolved into some of their most familiar works.

Because the topic is so controversial, scholars have kept the subject buried but a colleague of mine with access to the Cambridge archives leaked several samples to me.

Emily Dickinson

Because the Saucers could not Wait for Me —

I Bide my time for Them. 

Silent polyphony fills the Skies and

Glowing Darkness hides Them from my Eyes.

They Take me to their Castle in the Clouds —

I read Six Poems to them Aloud

And offer More — but Hasten they to

Other Worlds it seems and Hasten me to Bed.

Bitter Creatures they! Who leave me only Dreams.

TS Eliot

Let us go then, you and I,

To the ship silhouetted against the sky

And be patients etherized upon a table;

Let us wake alone in half-deserted streets,

while memories retreat 

replaced with those of one-night cheap hotels

And endless images of oyster-shells:

Symbols that haunt like a tedious argument

Until your subconscious vents

And leads you to an overwhelming question…           

Oh, do not ask, “What happened?”

Let us keep those memories hidden.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of floating globes that glow.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

To spirit you away to other planes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to mutter and create,

Plausible explanations for your shaking hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;     

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before hypnosis recovers your memories.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of floating globes that glow.

Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough and time

This coyness, Lady, were no crime.

We would sit down and think which way

To walk and pass our long love’s day,

Thou in woods would find a globe

I would walk with thee and hope

For love and follow you inside.

And you should, if you please, refuse

Till the conversion of the Jews.

And still my love would grow

Brighter than this orb begins to glow;

An hundred years should go to praise

Thy luminescence as this ship doth rise;

Two hundred to adore your breasts full,

Floating before me in this vessel;

Five hundred for each eye as blue,

As our planet which drifts below.

For, Lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear

A winged chariot hurrying near;

To spirit us away to

The edges of vast eternity.

Thy beauty shall no more be found,

Nor, on the cold metal shelves, shall sound

My echoing song; these creatures shall try

your long preserved virginity,

And your quaint honor turn with 

Metal tools and big round eyes.

Space is a fine and private place,

But none, I think, do there embrace

When strapped to shelves as gray

Creatures explore our inner selves.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue

Sits on thy skin like morning dew,

And while thy willing soul transpires

At every pore with instant fires,

Now let us sport us while we may,

And hide in bushes, like amorous birds of prey,

Rather than wait for glowing orbs to find us

In our sport and wind us yonder to eternity.

Let us roll all our strength and all

Our sweetness up into one ball,

And bring forth the glowing energy

Of our amorous synergy:

Thus, though we cannot these suns

With stand, yet we will make them run.

Phillip T. Stephens

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