"Wise of Old" (Entry 534)

Savage sages,

adept men of ages.

Wizards of magic.

Dark art tragic.

Learned teachers,

haggard features.

Mage of old.

Philosopher bold.

Who are the wise ones?

What do they know?

Are there still bonds?

Where do they go?

"Rhyme of Old Thyme" (Entry 473)

I rued the hour

You came to power

When I heard upon the tower

High above the town of Dover,

Where I used to run in clover, 

I knew that my life was over.

"Journal the Joy" (Entry 421)

These days special,

Never to forget...

And yet. 

They will fade,

As must,

It's meant to be. 

So write, record 

Note and photograph. 

To keep a little sharper

In memory. 

"Birth Right" (Entry 401)

Repression of succession

Right from one's birth. 

Question the selection

Of your place on this earth. 

Progress in your profession 

For true talents in dearth. 

Impress on unique expression 

You are more than their worth.

"The Inventors Vow" (Entry 392)

Invention times a mystery. 

Discoveries made in history. 

Secret creativity, worked or unbidden. 

Universal gifts no longer hidden. 

'Light bulb' moments to those selected. 

Inspiration's flash and then perfected. 

We own them much and so to thank. 

These mighty minds, a higher rank. 

Geniuses gather, to you we bow. 

To carry on, this is our vow. 

"Pilgrims to a New World" (Entry 369)

They knew from the outset, they would never come back,

Although they told family and friends they would,

With stoic smiles and hearty hugs,

But they were told from the beginning,

It was a one way ticket. 

Once in a lifetime,

No. That's saying too small.

No one had ever given given this opportunity before. 

They were the blessed. 

Part of the chosen ones. The elite. 

The new youth

Ready to travel further than

Only a few pioneering souls 

Who had sacrificed themselves to make 

This trip beyond new frontiers possible. 

They stepped onto the ship,

With supplies they hoped would last 

To set up their new colony. 

They viewed the eyes of those gathered to watch them leave,

Knowing they would never see them again. 

Their One Way Ticket taking them to their New World. 

Once

Pilgrims to America. 

Onwards

Astronauts to Mars!

*************

Missions to Mars continue. 

This is the latest: http://lasp.colorado.edu/home/maven/

"The Object of My Desires" (Entry 351)

Is that his voice?

He beckons me. 

I try, but can't pull away

From eye contact. 

We stare. Joined. 

Transfixed. 

His smile sparkles. 

He knows he has me. 

How could he not?

Just so beautiful,

I want him to be mine. 

I'm too weak to resist. 

I take a step towards him. 

Dare I?

My mouth goes dry

As I feel my pulse racing. 

He has my heart. 

I lick my lips

As I slip toward him. 

Closer. 

Pupils dilate. 

Closer. 

I raise a trembling hand

To stroke his smooth face. 

I'm hit by a jolt of electricity. 

Sparking blue in my mind. 

A frenzy of energy 

Ripples throughout my being. 

We are connected.

Through the ages, by spirit, by life. 

Me and this stunning object of desire. 

Me and the Crystal Skull!

***********

If you want to find out more about 'the object of my desires' ;-) The Crystal Skull, please check out this link to the British Museum. 

http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/aoa/r/rock_crystal_skull.aspx

"Rusty Fourth" (Entry 336)

Barren rusty rock. 

Was it always as we see? 

Breathe fourth. Let us know.

********

Another verse inspired by the NASA - MAVEN mission to Mars -  http://lasp.colorado.edu/home/maven/ 

I've entered their haiku competition with a different poem which I'll post here once the deadline expires. 

"Angry Birds - now and then" (Entry 280)

Angry birds - a game collecting stars.
In the 70s, they were burning bras.

"I'm a Knit for Doctor Who" (Entry 273)

I found an authentic pattern.
Matched the colours as close as I could.
I followed the details, line by line.
Easy to do, and I understood.
It was more than the Fourth's signature scarf I was making,
but a piece of British history too.
With wool and needles and plenty of time.
I wimey'd (well, I knitted) Doctor Who.

*********

In the 50th anniversary year, the new series of Doctor Who, with Matt Smith, is back on BBC One!


If you are interested on making your own Doctor Who scarf, there are many sites on-line to check out. I found mine at: http://www.doctorwhoscarf.com/
I followed the pattern for the Fourth Doctor Original Season.

'A Short Fragmented Broken Ode to Time Team' ' (Entry 266)

I dug the archaeology.
The mud and the clay and the rain.
Finding roman ruins and Tudor towers.
I wish 'Time Team' would film once again.

*********

20 years of 'Time Team'
http://www.channel4.com/programmes/time-team
We will miss you.

"A Children's Shop Lost in Time" (Entry 260)

There is a creepy children's shop.
Selling all their clothing needs.
With mannequins of the girly type,
dressed in lace, flounces and rigid petticoats.
Stuck in a rut?
Or time drift back to Edwardian times
or Victorian fancy -
each one a life-sized freaky doll
with rictus grins.
You're welcome within.

Dusty dusky pink velvet drapes
hang stiff at the windows and
along the walls like
long-forgotten music hall.
With pre-war signage on
black glossed exterior and awning
- a yawning double door to pull you in.
Turns from shop to gothic funeral parlour
for the small ones.
Step right in and look beyond.

I'd love to meet the owner... but then again... maybe not!

"Hidden from Sight" (Entry 250)

They kept it locked, cased in special place,
within the museum vaults.
For in its hideousness, it was still precious,
even with all its faults.
Kept within a box behind glass and metal,
so no-one could peer to find
and far away, to stay, from visitors' view,
for to see it - you will go blind.

"For Want of a Cat" (Entry 241)

The flea bit on the rat within the grime,
Many existed after the Burning Times.

Executed witches and their familiars, just pets.
The cats were killed, which now they regret.

So out into the world, the rodent ran
from flea to rat to ravaged man.

And on and on and on.

The Black Death scampered,
humanity's growth almost hampered.

And on and on and on.

Death became them, almost all,
this could have been civilisations fall.

For it all started with a flea on rat.
So on they cried, for want of a cat.

"Being, repeat, begin" (Entry 204)

Pressure of rock
To layers of sand
To build and yield a mark.

Created and used,
Til there's some to lose.

Then all done for,
To tumble and break,
Returns to earth. The dark.

"Waiting at the Crossroads" (Entry 188)

He waits.
He knows.
That they will come along in droves.
The guilty and desperate.
The angst ridden and loved to late.
Wanting help and change.
To take away memories and blame.
So he waits.
The Crossroads Stranger.
Meet him.
Remember the danger.
His price? Yes, his toll.
He's after your soul.

"A Secret Symbol" (Entry 172)

A coin (which is no longer tender)
embedded in a champagne cork.
Its symbolism only known to me,
as he who created it has long forgotten.
Yet it means a turn in life profound.
The meaning only for me.
(Tender to my heart.)
A secret never to be spoken.

"A Witches Prayer" (Entry 163)

In the end, we prayed.

Crowded together in the cells.

The only water from the damp rocks.

We chanted for help.

In the end, that was all we could do.

Persecuted for being different,

for being healers... and female.

Accused of dancing with the devil.

UNTRUE! NOT RIGHT!

Guilty in their eyes, but not ours.

We lived in harmony with nature

and nurtured the gifts of cosmos.

But we lived in a man's world

who would turn any phrase to suit himself.

So we prayed for death.

Not revenge for their actions,

or to die by their hand -

in torture - in flames - in agony beyond screams.

Their punishment. And they called us evil.

We prayed that we would be taken in this night,

before dawn's discovery.

To go to our light, in our rightful place, at our choosing.

Not suicide, but a request - granted.

"Memories of Another Life" (Entry 150)

I remember Toledo,
when the cars roared and
the girls wanted to be chased but stayed chaste.
The drive-in movie was the place to be,
or Joe's Soda and Milk Bar on Montgomery Street.
My letterman jacket worn proudly on the shoulders of May.
A life not mine, not now, remembered too well.

"Father's Fable" (Entry 126)

A man made to be self-created.
Singer of choral chorus,
Made to wear the khaki too soon.