Category: Short Pieces

A Space Ploddyssey

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Thank goodness AI has far more imagination and originality than HAL…

A Space Ploddyssey

As Kubrick prophesised
When the ape-men went exploring –
Space is vast, and time is slow,
And the future will be boring.
Red suited, black oblonged,
Very very small –
Man is dumb when met by wonder,
Stanley most of all.

The first three minutes of the movie are a black screen.  I’ve heard this described as the ‘overture’, a not-unknown feature of big blockbusters in the Sixties. Thinking about it, this moment does indeed pull together all of the tedium scattered through the film into one masterpiece of Cageian vacuum…

More seriously, there is the interview between the BBC and Frank and I’m-Sorry-Dave.  It takes seven minutes for each transmission to travel one way, so the crew give their answer, and have to wait fourteen minutes until they get their reply (plus the time to record the reply, unless it’s being streamed live).  Shouldn’t we next see them looking as if they had actually got up and done stuff in those fourteen minutes, rather than look as if we rejoin them five seconds later ? The fact that the film prioritises the suggestion that they are so dull they would happily remain sat in silence than have any moments of – human interaction, work, getting a drink, their hair getting a bit mussed-up, even unintentionally swapping places – says everything about why this film and I can never be friends.

Brass-Cornered Boxes

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Brass-Cornered Boxes

Wooden and leather bound, fit for a steamer,
A portable treasure chest, waiting for gold…
The trunk of a journeyman, noble, or dreamer
A personal world in a box in the hold.
What wonders are lurking, restrained by its lock ?,
To be served-up on life’s hungry trencher.
Not wanted on voyage – but oh, when we dock,
Then its contents shall spill-forth and venture.

Sting

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Four of Diamonds by Tony Meeuwissen

Sting

The hornet laid her sting in my leg,
Injected her toxic egg –
Her ovipositor dripping with yolk,
As if to joke how childbirth hurts.
The pain began in rapid pangs and spurts,
But at least, I said in spite,
At least it’s just a sting, this thing,
And not a hatching parasite…

Asterichthys

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detail from Asteridea by Ernst Haeckel

Asterichthys

A sunfish may look like a sun,
And a starfish like a star –
But both are fake, for the only one that’s real –
The starriest fish by far –
Is not some Milky Way-long eel,
But Cetus – the stellar monster gar –
He’s bigger than Cancer, older than Pisces,
Swimming the span of the sky high seas.

Hoops & Smits

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Emblem of Power by Victoria Shul

Hoops & Smits

We’ve ringed the noses of our bulls
Since the days of ancient Sumer,
And blinged their ears with tagging tools
Since the reign of George the Third.
And sheep we’ve daubed with bright and dark
Since Beau Peep was in bloomers,
And likewise branding’s left its mark
Since pharaohs watched the herd.

And long before the Roman Legion,
Pigeons wore a metal tumour
Round their ankles, through the season,
As they carried vital word.
And falcons showed their noble’s farms –
And scientists confirmed the rumour
Of migration, through the charms
They fitted to each bird.

Hazy Words

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Astronomer by Gerrit Dou

Hazy Words

Whatever happened to ‘gloaming’ ?
Do they still say that, North of the border?
Or has it been lost in the creeping gloom
Of a Sassenach fog or a shadowy order ?
When the mist comes roaming,
We may lose sight, discard a husk,
As the twilight stretches ’cross the room,
And the gloam sinks in the dusk.

‘Tache-less

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‘Tache-less

Those clean-shaved chaps all suffer hell
From a lack of stiffened upper-lips,
Their razor-bothered mouths are far too sleek.
When it comes to cunning twirling, well,
They simply cannot get to grips –
Their naked filtrums wobble when they speak.
No rakish pencil wits
For these tongue-tied sunburned Brits,
But the unconnected stubble of the meek.
No bushy walrus manliness
On faces long on gangliness,
Whose claims to hairy days are bare-faced cheek !

The Spotless Page

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Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com

The Spotless Page

There’s a nagging need to write
That lurks within us, don’t you think ?
For the page is far too white
Until we stain it with our ink.
But more these days, I find
I tend to leave my paper bare –
Yes, their emptiness can blind,
But I prefer to simply stare.
There’s a nagging need to write,
And so I shall, some day, engage –
When my mind’s as crisp and bright,
And overspilling on the page.

The New Zoo

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Photo by Siddharth Joshi on Pexels.com

The New Zoo

She has the memory of a goldfish,
In that she remembers pretty well.
She is a frog in a warming dish
That knows it is no place to dwell.
And she’s a giraffe who loves shut-eye,
An ostrich with her head held high,
A colourblind bull when the red rags fly,
And an old wife with new tales to tell.

Meditation

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Photo by Prasanth Inturi on Pexels.com

Meditation

Staring deep in wonder at an apple,
Or contemplating where to move in chess,
Shutting-out the thoughts with which we grapple –
Boring, boring, boring mindfulness !

Lazy-arses squatting in believe-ment,
While others get stuff done so you can pray –
But beauty’s in distraction and achievement,
And life’s too short for omming it away.