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Day 49.
It’s time to get off this planet,
It’s time to get out and roam,
It’s time for a trip in a rocket-ship,
To be one world closer to home.
So smuggle yourself in a cargo bay,
And let those improbabilities play !
We’ll pick up the guide on the other side –
Just hope that you’re heading my way !
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The Ether Stream by Rodney Matthews
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Day 47.
Have you ever stopped to think
How money grows on trees ?
How ev’ryone accepts these leaves with ease ?
So what’s the link ?
It’s only just occurred to me,
These are not coins we’ve found –
They’re just a snack we share around
With ev’ryone, for free.
I think that how we pay
Is with company and tales –
We’re the trav’lers from the solar sails,
Just passing through this way.
We’re richer if we’re extroverts,
And beggars if we’re shy.
But let’s take the time to chat before we fly –
Yes, even if it hurts.
For ain’t the point of trav’ling
All the people that we meet ?
I know we never asked to used our feet,
But here we are, old thing.
And if we want to cross the miles,
To head on home to Earth,
We have to pay our fare and berth,
Despite how false our smiles.
And anyway, this latest craic
Could be the last to be enjoyed –
Before we’re heading one-way through the void,
No going back…
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Day 42.
I suppose you think today is special,
Suppose you think today’s the Answer:
“They can’t nail me to a tree,” you’ll say,
“I’ve just done six impossible things today !”
In fact, I spent my forty-second
Drinking with a two-headed chancer.
I risked the local brew – disaster !
It hit me worse that a triple-strength gargle-blaster.
Ah well, beware of the leopard, I guess…
(Though man, I wish I’d a towel for me head !)
Come on, best dust down the dressing gown,
And head off – before the petunias hit the ground.
Let’s leave the pondering to the mice,
Forgetting to fall, and flying instead –
I’ll somehow get you home, my friend,
To the fjords of Mostly Harmless in the end.
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Day 35.
Time to take stock.
Alright, what’s left ?
Two shoes, one sock,
(The result of theft),
My shirt, my bag,
Some scraps of food,
A well-thumbed mag
(That something’s chewed),
One toothbrush, blue,
One blanket, plaid,
My mem’ries too,
(Both good and bad),
This journal, and pen,
And a lack of strictness,
(And the nag, now and then,
Of homesickness…)
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Day 27.
Ahead a few miles, there lies a town –
Well, more a collection of termite mounds,
Except that the mounds are giant mounds,
And the citizens aren’t quite termites, neither.
But they are well used to strangers here,
You won’t get a second glance –
If they had any eyes to glance with,
Instead of some kind of weird receiver.
Rest the night in the local inn –
You can pay with the knobbly leaves.
If you pick every one you see,
Then you’ll have enough to catch a breather.
Before you leave, check out the town:
This is real Space Who Trek Wars !
The whole place looks so cosmic, dude,
As if designed by Dali with a fever.
Do you have a phone or camera ?
Take lots of photos. Wish I could, too.
And when you get back, if they ever doubt you,
Or you doubt yourself, they’ll keep you a believer.
Heading on, you’ll come to a river –
There’s a detour to a waterfall.
Well, actually it’s a water-rise,
Caused by a creature a bit like a trout or a beaver,
While almost entirely, but not quite, unlike either.
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Day 23.
I met a friendly alien today,
Who helped me on my way –
I hope he’s still around
When you come through.
A sort of slug, he was,
A sort of fuzz,
Who made this chirping sound
And grew out of the ground,
All beige and blue.
At least, I’m saying ‘he’,
But in truth she could be ‘she’,
If they even have a gender there at all,
Or maybe three.
They’re all so alien, these aliens,
Not humanoids with silver skin !
I guess that’s why I like the guy:
She make me grin.
I met a friendly alien, it’s true,
When I really needed one !
I hope that he…or she…is there for you,
My girl…old son.
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Day 11.
So how do you find the language, dude ?
(And by ‘dude’, I don’t mean it to be
An assumption you’re a bloke – not me !
You’re a dude, cos dude, you’re trekking ’cross the galaxy !)
So how do you find the language ?
Easier that you feared, I’ll bet –
I know, it’s just so odd, and yet…
They’ve always got the gist of it, from all I’ve met.
It’s somehow telepathic, I think
Cos some of them all talk with smell,
Yet they sniff us and still can tell.
I guess a thought’s a thought to them, and just as well !
Looks like we’ve found a Babel Fish !
I guess this means that God does not exist –
We’re on our own – let’s make a fist
And try to get back home before we’re missed.
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Day 4.
How are you doing today ? Still weirded-out ? Chin up..
We’ll get through this, you and I, we’ll both get through.
Are you finding enough of the knobbly leaves on which to feed ?
I sure hope so, or else I just don’t know what you’re gonna do.
But you should, they’re pretty common – at least, they are for me.
As long as they’re not seasonal – now there’s a nasty thought !
But then again, they’re hardly leaves at all, but something else –
Something alien. But ‘leaves’ will do for now, don’t let’s get fraught.
They’re also full of water, so you’ll never have to risk a drink
Of what the locals drink – which, trust me, is by far best left alone !
To tell the truth, I’ve eaten every leaf and swallowed every berry,
And thrown them all back up again – ah, the joys of the unknown !
I had to try them all, of course, and I can say without a shadow
That the knobbly leaves are absolutely all that you can trust.
In fact, I’m only starting on this journal as I lie here, weakly,
Trying to recover as my body learns to readjust.
I was beset with fever, and I swore that should it ever break
I’d save the next poor refugee the horror that was brought on me.
So here it is – a promise kept. And soon, adventure beckons –
Let’s make the most of sighting all these things we’d never sought to see.
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Day 1.
Don’t panic.
Really, try.
Try not to panic.
Try not to cry.
I know…I know how you must feel,
Because I felt the same –
UFO and tractor beam,
The whole stupid game.
Who’d have thought the Future
Would be such a cliché ? Retro-chic ?
Who’d have thought the Aliens
Would look so green and meek ?
I guess they had a job to do,
Exploring ev’ry human zone –
We’re prodded, probed and watched…always watched,
Yet always so alone.
And then after days, or weeks, or months,
Or who knows who cares how long,
Given back our clothes and liberty,
Turfed-out where we don’t belong.
But what do I know ? Yours could be different –
It really matters none.
What matters is you’re here right now –
Your adventure’s just begun.
But unlike me, you’ve something more
Than the togs in which you stand.
You have my guide you’re holding now
To this very foreign land.
By chance, I had this notebook on me
When I reached these distant shores –
And now I shall record my journey,
Turn my good luck into yours.
You’re not alone, not any more –
I went before you, found the way –
I left this log, the one you found
On some scared and future day.
Just hope that you can read English –
If you can…well, then, hello.
It seems we’re living in science fiction,
Don’t let it give you vertigo.
Forgive me if I give voice to some wit
And a joke or two –
Especially from one author,
Who was far more right than he ever knew.
I hope they raise a knowing smile from you
And not a frown.
I wouldn’t like to think that I am
Getting anybody down.
I can’t give you answers
Over how or what or why –
All that I can tell you is –
Don’t panic.
Really, try.
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To celebrate this site’s anniversary, I shall be sharing my longest poem of all, conveniently split into fourteen separate sections. So, stand by for two weeks of sci-fi adventure, aliens, and depression, all dedicated to the memory of the great Douglas Adams – because despite the title, the one thing I felt his books needed more of was hitch-hiking…
By the way, the accompanying pictures won’t have much to do with the poems, but will be an opportunity to showcase some of my favourite spacey art.
I should also take this moment to announce that I have finally exhausted my back catalogue, and once this upcoming mini-epic is done I have nothing else to offer. At least, not today, but I intend to keep up a routine of writing two poems a week (at least), and will post these on Sundays and Wednesdays. I have plenty more to say, I just don’t know what it is yet.
But before we go on that adventure, let us take a quick side-trip with a hearty slap on my own back, even though that’s physically impossible. I decided to give this website a quick Google, to see if it has been noticed. So, ignoring the results that lead straight back here, we have RhymingCouplets.wordpress.com. Ah, it’s not me at all. It seems to be by ‘iambictrix’ and likely no longer active. But hey, it’s promoting rhymes and it’s got a cool name, so go over there and show it some love. Next up is this Russian site, where they have borrowed my drawing of a young Isaac from Newton’s Cradle. Well, I say mine, I just ran across it online, so as kind as it was for them to credit me, they could have found it in the same place that I did. Still, nice of them to mention me. Moving onto NameDog.com, it shows that my website’s name was available for hire back in 2010, and ThaiZone.com shows us why – in 2009 it was pending being deleted.
I wonder what the old domain looked like way back then. If only there were some sort of machine that could tell us…hang on…! It seems that our new friend iambictrix didn’t always have a double-barrelled website, with the ‘wordpress’ bit noticeably absent. But things get even stranger in 2016, where we can see on the 9th of March that iambictrix had let their subscription lapse 309 days prior, and then no more snapshots until 4th October, when a few pop-up that cannot now be accessed – were these more beggings for renewal or perhaps a new custodian ? I do have a vague memory of idly musing on creating a domain with this name but finding it had been taken by a dating site. Good thing I did nothing about it for a year, or I’d have to have created ConcordingAdjacents.com, which wouldn’t have been nearly as popular.
But I’ve saved the last for best – Whitmore High School has faced-down lockdown by preparing a comprehensive list of independent learning activities for Year 8 (what in my day we would call the Second Years), including on page 13 from the drama department, and just look at who they cite as one of two “resources you will need to help you” ? I am so honoured ! If Miss or Sir wishes to drop me a comment, I can thank them personally (hey, perhaps they’re already have, but in disguise !) But oh, those poor kids, having to deal with my various arguments with God, grammar, and gated drums. And although I don’t use many swears, I really hope the pupils found them all…
Anyway, let’s take a detour from this detour with some more naval-gazing. Even after I post my poems here, they remain works-in-progress, though I don’t realise it at the time. Whenever I revisit a poem, I may spot a rhythm in need of a massage or an orphaned rhyme in need of a lover, a stray typo here or an errant comma there – and of course the work of replacing all semi-colons with hyphens is ongoing.
However, occasionally I spot a more fundamental problem, usually along the lines of the poem not actually being very good and certainly not ready for before the watershed. My solution is often ‘more poem’, adding verses to clarify a point or add that which I had previously neglected.
Knowing how some of you like to check-in every so often and catch up on the new entries, it is likely that major revisions to old posts would go unnoticed, and so this seems an appropriate time to link to half a dozen that have undergone the greatest change, and I’ll even throw in an extra fifty-percent for free ! First up, a couple whose verses are unchanged but whose post-coda ramblings have wandered afar –
The Parable of the Mustard Seed – I attempt some mathematics to calculate the plant kingdom’s obesity problem.
Forty-Eight – I detail the handful of stars that Ptolemy bothered to name as he mapped the sky, while being glad they were so few.
Then there have been a couple of days when I accidentally forgot to set up a post, and did so retrospectively so that no-one would ever know of my blunder (unless I were to do something as stupid as to tell them).
The First Second-Coming – All the Virgins give birth in the Winter, it seems.
Foreword & Forewarned – If ever there were a manifesto poem for my collection, it would be this.
These three have had several verses added, since everyone knows it’s word-count that counts:
Jurassic Lark – Considering how long the dinosaurs ruled for, they’re well worth some extra.
Felis schroedingi – Half of part 3 and all of part 4 is new. More physics, true, but also more cat !
Pride & Vanity – Hogging even more limelight following extensive cosmetic restructuring and two additional verses.
And these ones have effectively been re-written from the envoy up.
Equant & Deferent – Ptolemy again, and how his model of planetary motion was almost better than Copernicus’s.
Cherry-Picking – An eight-line original for a one-line joke gets a whole new backstory.
Rhyming Couplets 