Tag Archives: science fiction

Hugh Minn

Hugh Minn

Hugh Minn was human so he lived on Earth,
been living there ever since his birth.
He may have preferred to live somewhere else but he never said.
Who knows what goes on in Hugh Minn’s head?

Pastry pale, like he worked in a bank,
he was in the navy till his boat sank.
One day he heard feet shuffling about on the floor of his loft.
He stepped up a ladder, nervously coughed.

He asked who was there but got no reply,
beamed his torch in the loft to aid his eye,
saw a small bulbous man in a silver helmet and dark blue smock,
thought if he was from space, he’d chosen the wrong place to dock.

The alien seemed to think the same, vanished into another time.
Hugh Minn stepped down the ladder, and that’s almost all there is to say
about him in this present rhyme.

“What have you been doing up the ladder?”
asked his neighbour, Sydney Smout,
who as ever looked perplexed, well wrinkled with doubt.
“Heard a noise in the loft,” answered Hugh Minn.
“You know you cannot lose if you try to win.
Met a multi-dimensional time traveller,
landed in the loft by accident.”
“If you say so, Minn,” said his neighbour,
who seemed to know what he meant.

“If you live in a forest you’re bound to see a lot of trees,”
he added, as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys.
“Another way of seeing it, come to that,
if you live among high hills you’re bound
not to see much lying flat.”

Back in his room, Hugh Minn sipped a mug of tea,
studied his book of astronomy.
Meanwhile, the alien flew home safely in his craft.
Over his Earth encounter, he smiled and laughed.

Flight Home

Flight Home

I don’t need a ticket for a plane
or a time table for a train.
Things are settled now.
I do not need to roam.
Here on the edge of everything,
I’m waiting for my flight home.

My mission ended,
I have done my task.
I am not from these parts,
but where I am from,
no one thought to ask.
I watch waves rise
and fall as foam.
I do not need to be here now.
I’m waiting for my flight home.

The Sirius Spaceship
is coming back for me
on the blue dolphin pathway,
enabled by my key.
No need for the telescopes
or the computer screens in your dome.
I will vanish soon.
I’m waiting for my flight home.

Pictures of Klubbe the turkle

DSCN0284.JPGHere are some pictures of the tiny plastic model of a turtle, designed to fit on the end of a pencil, which inspired me to create the character, Klubbe the turkle, and later my story about him, Klubbe the Turkle and the Golden Star Coracle. In 2015, my book was made an indieBRAG Medallion Honoree and in 2016 it has been made a Finalist in the Wishing Shelf Independent Book Awards for 2015, I am pleased to say. Reviews of my three books, Angel War, Klubbe the Turkle and the Golden Star Coracle and Still the Dawn: Poems and Ballads can be found on Amazon.uk Amazon.com and Goodreads. Information about them can be found on my website: http://philipdodd.yolasite.com

A Past and Future Memoir

A Past and Future Memoir

Time travel is to leave now, what is,
go back to then, what was,
forth to hence, what will be.
Impossible then, thought he.
Paced his kitchen, like a nervous hen,
mulled over his plan once again.
Still, there was the experiment.
He could try.
At least his time machine
needed no wheels to move, wings to fly.
In his backyard, his strange contraption stood,
a high backed chair enthroned
in a mesh of metal, wire and wood.
Twelve old alarm clocks, second hand bought,
ticked different times among light bulbs,
levers and buttons on the control panel
he most originally wrought.
In the dull late afternoon, he sat in the chair,
pressed the green button to go.
Only the birds in the bush saw him vanish.
No one was to know he was not there.
Came back the day before he left,
so he could not prove he had been away.
He had acted adventurous and brave,
grown a white beard, looked older than Moses,
but he had no proof that he had travelled through time,
only that he needed a shave.
He had done it and he had done it alone.
He felt like a god on a mountain,
who had brought his hammer down
on a thunder stone.
He was told he would never amount to much,
the higher levels he would never touch,
his failure would fashion for him a crutch,
his house not a mansion, more like a rabbit hutch.
But now, content in his kitchen chair,
he supped his tea, knowing though his century
had ran out of reason and rhyme,
he could go back and forth,
journey out and on through time.
A Past and Future Memoir,
he would call his time travel log,
publish it as a work of science fiction,
for he knew that science fiction sells,
as it had done since the days
of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells.

My book, Klubbe the Turkle and the Golden Star Coracle, now listed as a Medallion Honoree on indieBRAG

My book, Klubbe the Turkle and the Golden Star Coracle, now listed as a Medallion Honoree on indieBRAG

I have great news about my book, Klubbe the Turkle and the Golden Star Coracle, published in March, 2015, which here I share. It is now listed on Medallion Books on the website: http://www.bragmedallion.com/medallion-honorees
It can be found on the page for Science Fiction books.
It will be featured on the Homepage: http://www.bragmedallion.com on Sunday, Ist, November, 2015.
B.R.A.G. is an acronym for Book Readers Appreciation Group.
indieBRAG has its own group on Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/group/show/83438-indiebrag

More about me and my three books, Angel War, Klubbe the Turkle and the Golden Star Coracle, and Still the Dawn: Poems and Ballads can be found on my new website: http://philipdodd.yolasite.com

S.E.T.I. Man

S.E.T.I. Man

I work for S.E.T.I.
been doing it for about six years.
The government pay me,
I twiddle knobs while supping beers.
My wife and my children
think my job’s some kind of joke.
I say it’s got us a nice house.
It’s better than being broke.
I’m a S.E.T.I. man,
though it never was my plan.

We send out signals,
hold on hope, but get none coming back.
No benign aliens
ever respond, but we keep on track.
A friend of mine told me,
he would call to let me know,
if he had a close encounter
with a real, true U.F.O.
I’m a S.E.T.I. man,
find the face behind the fan.

The Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence
may sound rather odd.
My auntie Mary said: “Give me a call
if you should ever contact God.”
As for me, I hope ever to meet an E.T.
If I did, I can only hope
he’d be the kind of person
I’d invite home for tea,
because I’m a S.E.T.I. man,
happy beans jump in my can.

We built star scanners,
space radio stations tuned in key.
Planet map planners
sketch in our great Observer Tree.
I get stimulated
by the message we wait for,
from planet wheel panoramas,
star folk on the cosmic shore.
I’m a S.E.T.I. man,
can transport space in my van.

Yes, I’m a S.E.T.I. man.

Cedric’s Close Encounter

Cedric’s Close Encounter

I was sailing round the heavens
when I saw a blush of light.
It was so I found your planet
and it made it worth the flight.

I left my old grey mother ship
in a crimson solar storm.
The freedom of the galaxy
means I never come to harm.

I landed only yesterday
on this splendid mountain range.
You’re having a close encounter,
if you wonder why I’m strange.

I’ve no idea what’s going on,
I’m as foggy eyed as you.
You’d have to ask the Star Shepherds,
but they never give a clue.

Well, I had best be going soon,
wing away in my spaceship.
I invite you to come with me,
to fly quicker than a quip.

Perhaps you can call me Cedric,
though that’s really not my name.
The great plan is not my business,
I don’t play the cosmic game.

Let us climb the spiral mountain,
my ship gave a warning beep.
I’ll pretend you are a princess,
and I’ve woken you from sleep.

Say your farewells to your planet,
partly looks like a pleasant place,
but you will never be lonely,
I’ve got many friends in space.