Choice

This was it, she thought, cradling him in arms
that would never hold another. The sun
beat down on the last of the old yeast farms,
now mouldy. She sobbed and glanced at the gun
That they had primed and left. The burden bore
down on her shoulders. Was it the right
thing to do, or should she allow the night
to swallow her up, the natural law?
But did it matter? No-one left to judge
Or point long weatherbeaten fingers.
But still, she thought, the suspicion lingers
That history might bear a lasting grudge.
A sand-encrusted tear ran down her face,
Like the frenzied survivor of its race.

Strategic Defence System

The spaceship sat high above the planet
Scanning the surface with its radar dish.
It resembled a hovering gannet
Waiting above the ocean for a fish.
“Still no break,” grunted Kovacs yet again.
“The entire planet appears to be criss-crossed
By radio waves. Our ship would be tossed
And battered if we came down. It’s insane!”
“This is a waste of time,” said Captain Drake.
“We’ll try the next one. Makes you wonder why
A planet should go to such lengths to try
To hide its secrets. We can’t even make
Communication.” Below, like strange clones,
Another ten million people reached for their phones.

Invasion imminent

It seems they’ve set their evil plan in motion
And secretly released those greenhouse gases.
The gaping hole above the Southern Ocean
Will spell the end of our collective asses.

The only thing in space they feared was ozone.
The strongest of their missiles couldn’t dent it.
A world with such a layer was a no-go zone
Until they found a way to circumvent it.

And, as the hole grows larger, they’ll come streaming
Through the layer that once protected us.
And we’ll fall victim to their dev’lish scheming
And suffer as a conquered planet does.

It will be a lamentable occasion
When conquered by these warlike Cosmic elves,
But the worst thing in regard to this invasion –
We’ll think we’ve orchestrated it ourselves.

He was only gone a minute

He was only gone a minute.
He’d been distracted by a question
From a student with a clipboard,
Who’d a problem generating
Small amoeba on his planet.

He was only gone a minute
But it was a crucial minute,
For the water level gauge
Which was increased just a fraction
Needed further realignment.

Weeks of work were nearly wasted
As the life-forms cultivated
In the foaming global test-tube
Nearly vanished altogether
In the mass of rising water.

It must be said that quick reactions
When he realised his faux pas
And turned down the rising water
To a life-supporting level
Averted a great calamity.

And it was a stroke of fortune
That a tiny microcosm
Of each species bred and reared
Had been saved from mass extinction,
Floating on a tiny splinter.

Retribution

Stepping through the door, the warden laid
A kindly hand upon Sanchez’ arm.
“Head up, son, and do not be afraid.

You will be most speedily conveyed
To your maker with angelic calm.”
Thus was the warden’s final card played.

Sanchez did not launch a loud tirade
Against this institutional smarm.
Arms outstretched and fingers tautly splayed,

He smiled at the warden’s masquerade,
Then turned to the door without a qualm.
The warden stepped out again, dismayed

At a law so archaic and unweighed.
Breathing deep, he turned on the alarm.
The door slid shut. He said a decade

Of the rosary. The far door made
No sound. The remnant of a last psalm
Died, as the full horror did pervade.

Like the bullet that killed the housemaid,
Spat in haste by his trembling firearm,
Sanchez shot into the cold arcade.

The final star

When the final star
Is just a dot behind you,
When you’ve gone as far
As anyone can go,
That’s the very place
The inner voice will find you
And God’s pure grace
Will doubtless start to flow.

When all ahead
Is night and night forever,
When light has fled
And darkness closes in,
He’ll come to you
E’en though you mightn’t ever
Have known the true
Indifference of sin.

And though the course
Is destined to end badly,
You’ll feel his force
Around you as you fly.
And when your ship
Begins to shudder madly,
He’ll smoothe your trip
And close your panicked eye.

Vanished

Nobody was sure what became of wee Ron.
One sec he was there, and the next he was gone.

It reminded the neighbours of eight year old Claire
Who vanished one Tuesday night into thin air.

And Jimmy McLoughlin and Michelle McGrane
Who emitted a “Pop!” and were ne’er seen again.

Another dimension?
Who knows what befell
Young Jimmy and Claire and wee Ron and Michelle?
.