a Rant about Poetry, Free Verse and Haiku

I was planning to introduce another long poem I wrote many years ago in the style of Geoffrey Chaucer.
In that day, much of Chaucer's verse was a bit suggestive or "bawdy",
and thus this poem is no different.  However, this turned out to be more of a rant about poetry and what I consider poetry to be.

To quote my poetry professor at university, "To be poetry, writing must have either rhyme or meter, and preferably both. Otherwise it is called prose".

I detest
unrhymed, unmetered verse
with a passion,
at least when
the vulgar and unthinking
attempt to pass it off as poetry,
for it is actually prose
with the thinnest of disguises
or none at all.

If I wrote in that form, and labeled it "free verse" some might think it poetry, but they would be wrong.
You will never find any of my poetry to be of such an unstructured form.
The word "verse" does not automatically mean poetry. (For instance it is common to speak of "a verse from the bible", but that does not mean it was written in a poetic style.)
Robert Frost once said that free verse was like playing tennis without a net.
—One could make a game of it, but that game would not be tennis.

Some might say, "All right, what about Haiku? That is unrhymed and unmetered other than that it has three lines of five, seven and five syllables..."
Oh, really?

My beer awaits me.
Like Homer Simpson I drink.
I burp and fall down.

That might pass for haiku in the USA, but is it haiku?
No, it is absolutely not for multiple reasons I will try to explain.
For one thing, traditional haiku must have a seasonal reference word. They use a special season-reference dictionary to find the right word for their haiku. If the verse does not have one of these reference words, then they do not have haiku; they have instead an embarrassment.
That is one part of the haiku definition that westerners do not understand and thus generally ignore.
Japanese haiku is not three lines but one line with words that make five, seven and five sound units.
A sound unit is not a syllable, but that is the closest English understanding of it.
Also, more strict than that, the first two sections must combine into one thought, while the last 5 sound units make a different thought. Thus the haiku, written as one line not three in Japanese, breaks down into two sections.
Last but not least, Japanese haiku must have sensory references. It should be an objective rather than subjective reference.
Too often short-sighted westerners simply write anything that comes to their minds in 5, 7 and 5 syllables and call it haiku.

Now if I were to rewrite the above haiku-look-alike as:

Autumn harvest brew
fermented to perfection,
Drink to lose control.

Then it might be considered haiku. After my explanation, I hope you see the differences.

Right you are, Harry! No post on Sundays. Hah!

So if you think you are seeing a post here, you must be mistaken...  —Or your name's not Harry.

Hah!

Friday Follow-Up

I believe I might continue on with the line of thought from yesterday and put a bit from later in the same chapter from The Helium Bomb. In this scene, Kevin, Billy, Amy and Patty sit in Nashotah Tower considering the news about Earth's impending destruction via the large asteroid.

Note: If you didn't read Thursday's entry, read it first. This part should then be more understandable.

     By the way, when the kids are talking about magic, it is what they think of their strange abilities, but don't let it confuse you.  You would not be too far off, if you think of them somewhat like untrained "Jedi" youths so far removed from the Federation, that they have no idea why they have certain powers and just call it "magic" for lack of a better term.
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* * *

Five houses divided the students at Greenbriar Academy. Each of these five houses had their own tower with separate dorm areas for boys and girls. Amy, Kevin, Patty and Billy all stayed in Nashotah House, where the asteroid was the only topic on anyone's mind that evening. "Commander," Amy whispered, looking at Kevin, "could we fly out to the asteroid in question? Maybe we will get some ideas after we look it over."

Two years earlier, Kevin had received his own spaceship from the queen of Abras, and since it was an Abrasax military Corsair, she had given him a rank in her royal guard so the ship's intelligence would follow his orders. His rank was Wing Commander.

"We could, but not now. It is past curfew and while we might get around that, we would still need to know the exact location of that asteroid," Kevin kept his voice low, "which we don't."

Amy offered, "Professor Grymm would have that information, but we wouldn't dare disturb him this time of evening, anyway. He is probably busy with Cassandra's private tutoring about now.” Blond-haired Patty Varian looked Amy in the eye and they both began to giggle.

"Smooch, smooch," Patty laughed.

Billy ignored the last part and noted, "It was really strange. When Cassandra showed up, why did Professor Thexia throw such a fit about it? It was like she just instantly hated Cassandra for no reason."

"Oh, Duh! You are not that dense, are you?” Patty goaded him.

"I get this from a blonde?” Billy wondered aloud.

"She was jealous, William," Amy informed him. "She has had a secret crush on Professor Grymm for ages, and it has not really been that secret, either."

Billy gasped. "On Grimy? You’re kidding. How could she like him?"

"Because from a female point of view, he is actually quite dashing. That British accent of his is exciting as well.” When Amy said this, it made Kevin look at her strangely, but he said nothing.

"Okay, I have an idea," Patty offered. "It involves using a big Abrasax ship like the battleship Enlil or even several of the larger ones. Could they hook tow cables to the asteroid and fire their engines at full power to make it change its orbit just enough that by the time it swings around the sun, it would miss Earth entirely?"

"Maybe," Amy agreed. "The sooner they try it, the more likely it could succeed. While the asteroid is still far enough from Earth, even a tiny change in its orbit would mean a large change by the time it gets here."

Kevin offered, "That sounds like a really great idea. I think I should contact my dad about it. The professor already shot holes in the idea of evacuating the Earth, but Dad will know what’s possible. He was head of the shipyard and now the queen’s put him in control of the whole fleet. He knows exactly how many ships Abras has and their sizes. He would also know how many people could be transported to Abras before time for the asteroid to hit Earth."

Amy's velvety black hair whipped around as she turned her head, causing a glance of annoyance as she brushed it from her eyes. "I agree. Even if not everyone can be saved, at least a few could be taken to Abras."

Kevin started to get out his communicator to call the ship for a link to talk to his father, but his mind wandered as he thought about the softness of her dark hair.

Patty added, "Well, all of us can go, right? I mean, we have our own ships, so we can take everyone in the school back to Abras with us, —everyone who wants to go, that is."

Billy spoke. "I bet my Uncle Orv won't go. Aunt Claudia's ghost has been waiting for him to join her some day. I don't think a ghost can leave the Earth."

"Right, but on the bigger picture of saving everyone on Earth, what if only a handful can be saved? We can't decide who stays and who goes.” Amy looked at Kevin, "I suppose it should be up to Queen Ishtaree and your father to decide who is allowed to live on Abras."

Kevin suddenly became conscious that he had been staring at Amy. He quickly got busy with placing a call to his dad.

"I hate to say this,” Billy said, "but hello! We keep our magical abilities from the non-magical public for a reason. If they reached Abras, it would be plain to all of them that magic is real and they can't do it. Do you know what would happen then? Jealousy and fear would take over. There would be fights, murders, and even wars when they found out. I'm sure you remember what we read about the witch trials and the Inquisition. It would be the beginning of that all over again, only it could be even worse."

After a moment of silence, Amy spoke up. "You're absolutely right, William. It would."

"Oh-my-gosh!” Billy's eyes went wide as if he were in shock. "Miss I-Know-Everything actually agreed that I was right about something! Someone mark this on the calendar, quick! It will be big … an international holiday … an interplanetary holiday even. They will call it 'Billy-Was-Right' Day. It will be monumental—a beacon of hope for the down-trodden everywhere."

"Down-trodden? All right, William. You've been asking for this…” Amy whipped out her wand, pointed it at Billy and said, "Hircus Finge!"

Instantly, a goat sat on the padded chair where Billy had been a second earlier. Amy smiled broadly. "Now he really is a Billy-goat. How long should I leave him that way?"

Kevin laughed. Amy had been threatening to do that to someone for ages, and had finally done it. In his mind, he heard Billy saying, "Very funny. You can change me back any time now." but all that came out were funny goat noises.

Amy suddenly spoke up again with a sneaky grin, "Oh, goodness. I just realized. I never did get the counter-spell from Professor Grymm. I don't know how to change him back."

Thursday's Thoughts

Now let me see. Here is a wee bit from book three of the Abrasax series, The Helium Bomb
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Chapter One — NEO (Near Earth Object)

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"This asteroid is fifty miles in diameter and on a collision course with Earth.” In the darkened classroom, the British professor, Callus Grymm pointed to the hologram behind him. The students saw a five-foot diameter image of a nearly round space rock.

"What does that mean, professor?" asked one of the female students.

"It means nothing less than the end of all life on this planet.” He paused. “Even microbial—one moment. What have we here?” In the midst of describing the death of everyone in the room, the professor noticed one student had fallen asleep in his class. He brought the lights up slightly.

Professor Grymm withdrew his wand from its robe pocket and aimed it toward the offending student, Oxford Peccant. “How do I wake thee? Let me count the ways.” He paused only a moment. “I shall take thee to the depth and breadth and height thy chair can reach…” As he said this, he raised both student and chair up to the high ceiling. “I could drop him from there, but the school would regrettably frown upon my intentionally maiming or murdering a student while class is in session. Pity.” The chair lowered back to a point only three feet off the floor instead. “Does anyone know what work of poetry I was paraphrasing just now?”

With no other hands in the air, he called on dark-haired Amy Levine; certain she would know the answer. She did. “Sonnet forty-three by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, written while she was—”

“Correct, Miss Levine.” Giving his wand a slight flip, the floating chair and the overweight ‘Ox’ Peccant, dropped suddenly to the floor. The chair broke under him, waking the sleeping Ox. “Mister Peccant, it appears you have broken yet another of the school’s chairs with your excessive mass. Please take another. ... Bring it right up here beside my desk. ... Now, sit.”

The professor walked around him, and continued speaking, “Where was I? Ah yes, I remember now.” His voice lowered more and more as he leaned closer to the student. In a quiet pleasant tone, he said, “While you were sleeping, I was just telling the class that an asteroid is going to hit the Earth, killing everyone.” He leaned closer to Peccant's ear and suddenly screamed, “We are all going to die!” Straightening back up, his voice returned to its normal pitch, “You will have plenty of time for sleeping after you are dead, which could come sooner than the asteroid, if you sleep in my class again.”

Gratified by the sudden look of terror on Ox’s face, the professor continued his class lecture. "May I presume you have all heard of the Chicxulub impact crater, known today as the Caribbean?” He glanced around. "That is the remains of an asteroid impact which many believe to be the event which brought the demise of the great dinosaurs."

Getting no response from most of his students, he sighed and continued. "Only three students? Why am I not surprised? The estimate of that asteroid's diameter put it at only six miles, while the one coming is fifty. It hit the Earth with an impact equal to approximately two hundred quadrillion pounds of high explosive. It is hard to imagine such a force, isn't it?” He paused a moment, “I shall attempt to enlighten you. The explosion was so great that not only did it melt hundreds of square miles of bedrock and turn thousands of cubic miles of ocean to superheated steam, but also an enormous quantity of the molten impact debris blasted into space, far beyond the atmosphere. This eventually rained back down dispersed around the globe. The energy released both from the impact itself and from reentry of the space debris had the effect of heating the air over the entire planet, touching every creature that did not hide underground in a cave or burrow. The heated atmosphere caused mass wildfires on a global scale, and was hot enough to cook the Dinosaurs."

He placed a blueberry on his desk. “If this were the asteroid that dug out the crater we call the Caribbean, let us compare that to the one coming now.” His hand appeared from behind him swinging in an arc over his head. With a resounding bang, he squashed the blueberry on the desk using a regulation-sized softball. “So much for the Caribbean, North, Central, and South America, Europe, and the Atlantic Ocean.”

As he spoke, a new image appeared behind him. This time it portrayed a fiery holocaust, with dinosaurs attempting to flee, but overtaken by a flash of fire, leaving a wake of death where once majestic creatures roamed. "That will be humanity’s fate."

Where Amy is introduced in Book 1

I have decided to jump to the middle of chapter three of Soul Keeper, where another of the main characters of the series is introduced—Amelexia Jodea Levine.
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“Boys! They are such a pain!” Amy Levine exclaimed, shaking her head. Her luxuriant black hair whipped back and forth, as she tried to clear away all thoughts of anything to do with boys. She wasn’t exactly speaking to her six-year-old younger sister, who sat on her own bed, dressing a doll. She was saying it to the whole world, to anyone who might be listening.

Some of the boys in the neighborhood, who were about her age, had built a clubhouse, and marked it clearly with a sign: ‘No girls allowed!’ Amy had looked at the sign, really hoping they had spelled it wrong. After all, they were only boys. Nobody expected them to spell words correctly. It must have taken all of them working together to get it right. Maybe they asked one of their sisters for help. Amy wanted to laugh as she made her private joke.

She didn’t hate boys. She hated that they excluded her from their fun. She wanted to have fun and be part of the crowd.

Instead, she was alone.

Amy picked a piece of darker blanket fuzz from her fluffy pink sweater. Their sign did not refer to just any girls. Of that, she was certain.

They had aimed that message straight at her, and she knew it.

They made no secret of the fact that they didn’t want her around. They never wanted to talk to her. They never wanted her to play their games. They always thought what she had to say was boring. Why? Just because she didn’t talk constantly about cars or planes or the army or those stupid video games of theirs!

Well, she had news for them. “I don’t want to go into their dumb old clubhouse, anyway. They are so juvenile and I am practically an adult. I wouldn’t go in there if they paid me fifty Loonies!” She was close to tears. She didn’t want her younger sister to see her cry just because some other kids didn’t want to play with her. At least she had her pretend friends: Patrixia, Nivek, and William. They really would be best friends forever. They would never leave her. If only they were real.

“Why do you care?” her younger sister, Lois, asked. She was trying to button the dress-pants on one of her dolls. “You won’t have to worry about them much longer, anyway. You are going away and I get to have my own room. I will get to use the computer, and I can go to Barbie-dot-com anytime I want to. I am going to sit all my Bratz dolls over there, and my …”

Amy stared at her red-haired little sister blankly for a few seconds. “Huh? What are you jabbering about now, squirt?” Was that red hair a recessive gene? Grandmother Rose said she had ‘a few red hairs’ in her head when she was younger.

“Your new school, of course,” said Lois, as though she didn’t know why Amy couldn’t understand.

“What new school? We go to this school until the eighth grade. I’m just finishing the sixth. I have two more years before I change schools. You aren’t making any sense.” She almost added, ‘as usual’ but didn’t.

“Don’t you know?” asked the six year old, trying to sound superior. “Mommy and Daddy are going to send you away to a new school that is a long ways from here. It’s in another country on top of a mountain!”

“In your dreams,” Amy remarked, as sarcastically as she dared without actually starting a fight with her sister. Amy didn’t want to fight because Lois had a nasty habit of tattling on her. That would bring Mommy or Daddy into it. That was not a good idea. At least not when she was on the wrong end of it.

“Yes, I dreamed it! So what? I know it is going to happen! It was very real!” Why did little sisters have to be such pains? She could be almost as much of an annoyance as those boys. Oh, no! She’d thought about boys again, and she was trying so hard not to do that.

No posts for the weekend. -I was tied up with other things.

I will probably drop down to posting once a week eventually, but in this case, I was away from my computer and didn't get around to posting.  Today, I will select a different spot from one of the stories and post it here.
I have selected the start of chapter 2 in the first book, Soul Keeper. This section holds the introduction of one of the main characters, Kevin, and his father, Mike. (Mike will play an important part in later stories.)
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Chapter 2 – Friendship Lost

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Safe and strong, our Alma Mater,

Greenbriar ever stand.

Send us now your son or daughter,

to our hidden land.

—First verse of the Greenbriar School Song.

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If you asked any of their neighbors, they would tell you that the Wells family of Toledo, Ohio, were perfectly ordinary people.  Mrs. Wells was a fine homemaker and kept a beautiful garden all summer.  Mr. Wells had a good solid job as a shift foreman at the Toledo Jeep plant.  The men working under him respected Mike Wells, because he was no common management type.  He had worked his way up to foreman after years as a skilled laborer on the assembly line.  He had been a line worker before the new series of automation robots, and had the muscles to prove it.

The other member of the Wells household, Kevin, was a quiet boy who never bothered anyone, although some of the other boys at his school bothered him.  None of them wanted to be his friend, and it is difficult for a boy to have no friends.  Apart from that, Kevin Wells was lucky in one respect.  He did have a friend, –just one, –but even that was hard for a boy his age.

The problem was that his only friend was a girl.

He had not planned it that way, but she was the only one in the neighborhood who was his age and would talk to him.  He told himself it was better than having no friends at all.  However, he had just learned something that could end that friendship forever.

Kevin realized now that there had been clues all along showing his difference from the other boys.  Being the only boy around with two-tone hair might have been a clue.  Most of his hair was medium brown, but there was one patch at the back, nearly the size of his fist, that was very light golden blond, more like gold than any normal shade of blond.

Why hadn't he figured out before that he wasn't like the others?  In many ways, Kevin Wells was like his father.  He didn't join in with a crowd just for the sake of belonging.  He was fussy about his friends.

Since Kevin didn't talk to the other boys, they hadn't learned about his friendship with a girl.  That was better to keep secret.  The other boys would never stop teasing him about it.

When he was around, Patty would set up tea parties with her dolls.  She always wanted to play "house" or "school", and he pretended right along with her.  Sometimes, they pretended so well that it even seemed like her dolls really drank the tea and talked, but he was glad no other boys saw him.  He shuddered to think what they would say.  He could well imagine what names they would call him.

He didn't really like to play girl's games, though.  When he saw her starting to set up teacups and saucers, he suddenly got busy with a video game, but it seldom succeeded.

Sometimes they would play school.  When they did, Patty was always the teacher and he was the student.

She had to be the teacher.

            She owned the green chalkboard.

Another of My Poems - A Border Epic

This epic poem was taken from actual historical accounts of events along the border between Scotland and England.
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                                                   A Border Epic

                                             © Dan Mickle (1981)

This tale of the Anglo-Scots border does tell;

Kerr, Fenwick, Scott, Maxwell, Gra'am, Johnstone, and Bell,

And so many others who pillaged and fought,

Over inches and acres that could not be bought.

The Romans decided their outposts would stand,

If they could just keep the Picts from their land,

So, four hundred years before Rome took its fall,

By the thousands, they toiled to build Hadrian's Wall.

In guarding this structure, it left little doubt,

The Scots and the Celts and the Gaels would stay out.

Though this was professed what the purpose had been,

The English, it chances, were also kept in.

The Romans who labored, marched, guarded and fell,

In rain, mist and winter o'er valley and swell,

Buried far from their homes, in the frostbitten North,

Their dead 'neath their banners will ne'er sally forth.

Stretching seventy miles between Solway and Tyne,

some twenty foot tall, the rocks marked the line.

Though it kept back barbarians, where it was laid,

Rome's influence waned, but the border wall stayed.

When passed many years to the south and the north,

the border had wandered much closer the Forth.

The push into England was thwarted in pain,

So buy back from Richard, to start it again.

When Scots helped the Barons, it drove King John wild;

And Berwick was ravaged; man, woman, and child;

But retaliation was just as severe,

Burn down English churches and things they hold dear.

And thus it continued, the fighting went on,

The Borders were born in the bloodiest dawn,

Blackmail and fighting and reiving was done,

No leeway was given nor ask, no, not one.

It wasn't all glory and chivalrous deed.

Crossing high craggy hills from which spring the Rede,

Three thousand lancers swept Teviothead,

And left smoking ruins to the waters of Jed.

A raid of three hundred or twenty or one,

might carry off cattle, or kidnap a son;

Steal two pair of breaches, a cloak and a skirt,

a cauldron, a skillet, twelve spoons and a shirt.

They stole sheets and a coverlet and one feather bed,

for a young English couple just recently wed.

And of the Scots donor who gave up his rest?

He lost more than these, as you've probably guessed.

Sometimes the whole house would be touched with a torch,

Or a bonfire of furnishings lit on the porch.

The Scots or the English, which one was the worst?

That's as hard to answer as “Who-did-who first?”

The borders were split; three March to the side,

Which Wardens protected from anie who tried,

But this didn't stop the thieving and gall,

For oft times the Wardens were worst of them all.

For five hundred years this fighting went on,

Each side self-defending though reason was gone.

A sword and steel bonnet, a jack-shirt and dirk,

then ride ' cross the Marches, a goodlie night' s work.

Sir Carlton of Cumberland wrote of one raid,

“In fifteen four seven was this escapade.”

In name of King Edward, both English and Scot

Rode with him to Teviot to subvert the lot.

With booty and plunder, the weather did change.

They sought help at Dumfries, which seemed a bit strange,

But Kirkcudbright beckoned, defiant to pledge,

So Carlton raided to drive in a wedge.

Soon routed by Scots, he fell back with his loot,

Two hundred of cattle and horses to boot.

Two thousand fine sheep would return to their fold,

When pressed from the rear, which he had not foretold.

And when they decided to split up to their loot,

Some brawling broke out, with backlash acute.

A disgruntled Scots-rogue with plenty of starch,

Returned with the Warden of the Scottish West March.

Now Carlton was circled by Scots, brave and young,

Which forced his escape through glib use of his tongue.

He promised persuasive that he'd set things right,

If they would but give him reprieve for one night.

Of course, by the morning his men were long gone,

To Dumfries and onward preceding the dawn.

Since they had to hide, he developed a plan,

Which gave him a way to protect every man.

Now Carlton craved Lochwood, as strong walls it had,

A fortress with good men proud wearing the plaid;

But Johnstone arrested, could not guard his keep,

And Carlton slipped in, while those left were asleep.

His men in the barnekin did break too soon;

And almost missed taking control of the Dhuin;

Once Keeper of Lochwood through Warton's decree,

His men raided daily with impunity.

Such blood-sports continued till James took the throne;

The sixth James of Scotland, but first English-knowne.

When he ventured south to his heritage take,

The Borders were torn with the "ill-week" outbreak.

The lances were freed; unrest was proclaimed.

Once Scotland and England, Great Britain was named.

He broke up the borders and put out some fires;

This portion from hence would be called, Middle Shires.

Thus in a short time he had snuffed out a flame,

Which smoldering and sputtered for an eon the same.

Some went to the gallows, some sped to exile,

For the purge of the Borders was traced out by guile.

So if you should chance to stand in your hall,

And reached to the pegs and take down from your wall,

A rusty old Claymore whose hilt fits your hand,

Remember, my children, that this once was your land.

Return to Abras

Today, I was fiddling with the beginning of the second book I've written in my series, which is titled, Return to Abras.  Here are the first couple pages for your enjoyment.
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RETURN TO ABRAS

By Daniel D. Mickle

Chapter One – Alien Dreams

        "Wake up Kevin!  You don't dare sleep; Patty's dying.  It's draining the life out of her," his friend, Billy, gasped while shaking him.  "If she passes out, we all die."

        Beyond the purple glow of the energy shield, produced by Patty's magic, Kevin Wells saw little but blackness in all directions.  He and his three friends floated in airless space, far from any visible planets or other places of refuge. Kevin knew with fearful certainty that they were going to die.  "We're running out of air and I can't even stay awake," he thought as he closed his eyes, perhaps for the final time.    

        The dark void disappeared. His friends were gone as well and he saw a planet that could have been Earth, yet somehow he knew wasn't.  What he could see of the sky above looked unfamiliar.  The stars looked strange.  No, not Earth.  Large planets and three moons hung frighteningly close, as he had never seen such things before.  Was he dreaming?  If not, the alternative was too terrible to contemplate, because he could no longer sense his friends nearby.

        "Yes, I'm dreaming." Looking around, he spoke aloud with certainty, trying to take comfort in his own voice.  "This is definitely not Earth!"  Wherever he now was, the stars were not tiny dots of light, but bigger, as though they were all much closer, –much larger than any stars he had seen before.  Could that truly happen?

        He remembered floating in space with his friends about to die.  This planet had to be a dream.  Lack of oxygen must have affected his brain and put him into a final sleep from which he would never awaken.

        Taking his eyes off the sky and glancing around the building, he noticed a large group of people nearby.  Because they wore robes, Kevin thought they could have been from the magical community, but these were hooded robes.  There wasn't a pointed wizard-hat amongst them.  He was on an alien world, without knowing how he got here.  "I'm sure this is a dream," he thought, and yet, even in the dream-strangeness, Kevin felt he had seen this place before.  Another dream perhaps?

        The nearest one of the ominous figures spoke to him with a voice like a human girl.  From the tone, he felt she was close to his age, but he could not see within the hood.  He remembered having seen this hooded figure before, –the same decorative filigree design, –but he was certain that she had not previously spoken to him.  "Kataska rohanoren iô mejasemu nurehşa bawee."

        "What?  What are you saying?"  Kevin urged the girl in the hood.  "I can't understand you."

        "Brahmana makane Abras azzabua.  Iô lauo Abrasax."  She reached out towards Kevin, and he saw pale delicate human hands emerge from the robe.  They held an amulet.  With both her hands, she placed it over Kevin's head lowering it until it rested on his chest, as did her light, delicate touch.

Kevin gasped, but this time it was not from lack of air. There was something pleasant and exciting about that gentle touch.

        "This place, this world, is called Abras and I am Abrasax," the girl said.

        "Hey, I understand you now."   He said, almost relieved when she lifted her hands away... –almost.

        "Ishtar smiles on you.  Now that you have received this gift of speech, be happy at your good fortune."

        "My name is Kevin.  What did you say your name was again, –Abrasax?"

        The girl giggled.  "No.  My name is Ishtaree.  I am Abrasax.  What are you?"

        She didn't ask 'who'.  She asked 'what'.  Suddenly in a flash of understanding, Kevin knew what she meant.  "Oh, this place is called Abras and you are Abras-ian, –or Abrasax, –You are from Abras?"

        "Yes.  What are you?"  She drew back her hood and he saw the alien looked like a human girl, but with brilliant golden hair. He had never seen golden hair before.  Each strand sparkled like his mother's and father's matching wedding bands when sunlight caught them.  Her radiant smile distracted him from everything else, until his gaze shifted to her eyes.  The dazzling golden irises hypnotized him as he noticed how they matched her hair in peculiarity of color.  They held tiny sparkles like the twinkling of distant stars, or like paint, sporting flecks of pure metallic gold, poured in circles on the surface of two deep dark pools.
        "My name is Kevin.  I am…" he wanted to tell her he was from Earth, but somehow, sudden understanding made him say, "–I was born on Earth, but I am Abrasax, also.  I am magical."

        "The Abrasax draw on the universal forces that you call magic.  That force shows me visions, and I have seen you in my future through such a revelation. I must tell you something important.  You must remember this word for it will help you when all looks bleak.  In the face of ill fortune, say once, 'Chahthrah.'  Once you have said it, the universe will cooperate with you in what you seek."

        Was she teaching him a magical power-word?  She spoke so cryptically. 

        "We stand here at a crossroads, you and I.  Through that same force, I sense that in the place-time you live, we… my people… will have gone on.  Of those who remain of our people, their ways will be different.  I see you playing an important role in that future.  Even though a great gulf separates us, I see my own future, and you are in it."  She smiled a glowing smile.  "I do not know how that is possible, for we are separated by over seventy thousand years.  For it to happen, one of us must travel through time, –you backward or me forward."

        What she said was confusing.  "To meet us, you have already crossed the great void in spirit form.  This is good, for I desperately need your help.  You have made a giant leap in your abilities to control the quantum force you know as magic, but I feel within you a struggle.  You are of two minds trying to sort out who you really are.  On one side, you are Nivek, descended of Enlil of Abras and controller of the force, while on the other side you are Kevin…"

* * *

        "Kevin… KE-VIN…" someone was calling his name, but it wasn't the alien girl.  She faded away.  "Kevin, come on.  You have to get up now or we will miss breakfast!"  The voice was Billy MacDuff, his roommate, and one of his closest friends.

Catch the Moment

                    Catch the Moment
                  © Dan Mickle (2009)
                       
      Springtime's like a high-chair and the smell of baby oil.
      The world is small but growing while around us others toil.
      From the blanket or the crib there's a mobile I can't reach,
      but fingers are for counting and someone's come to teach.
      Summer sneaks upon us slurping ice-cream through a smile,
      with a gentle breeze and butterflies dancing all the while.
      A bubbling brook, elusive fish, in water cool and pure,
      plus roller skates and bicycles and big sea shells for sure.
      There's honey bees collecting dew from all the lovely flowers.
      Oh, I could sit and watch them work and while away the hours,
      But now the autumn's come to make the leaves a coloring book.
      I must move on, no longer pause beside this tinkling brook,
      while swallows turn and carrousel amongst the clouds in flight,
      as the unseen air is getting chill and soon will come the night.
      The ice-cream is all gone now, like the toys when I was small,
      for the winter storm's upon me, and I hear my mother call.
   

Beginning of Book 4

This excerpt is from the fourth book I have written in this series. That book may need a better title, but for now at least, the working title is The Orion Spur. No, it's not a story about gunslingers in the Old West. The Orion Spur is the name for this part of the galaxy. This Solar System is not on a main arm, but a small spur of stars (also called the 'Local Arm') that lays between major arms, happily ignored and forgotten by the other races.

______________________________________________________________________________

Chapter One - Best Friends

____________________

"Together, didn't we face that murderous old wizard who was too dumb to stay dead?"  Billy MacDuff brushed some of his brown haystack hair out of his eyes.

Kevin Wells raised his eyes from his control console and stared at his friend.  "Yes, we did, but I repeat, so what?"  They spoke English so the ship's intelligent computer could not listen.  It only spoke Abrasax.

"Weren't we together when we were under death sentence on the planet Mak'kla, after we got caught while trying to save the Queen?"

"Yes, but we were in different cells, so we were not exactly tog…"

Billy spun his acceleration couch around so he could prop his feet up on the navigator's console behind him.  "Details.  Don't change the subject."

"Amy will turn you into a goat if she sees you doing that on her console."  Kevin scratched the back of his head, fluffing up the circle of golden hair that offset the rest of his medium-brown, normally neat, hair.  "How can I avoid changing the subject when I don't even know the point of all this?"

"She is, but hold on…"  Billy looked very nervous but seemed to be trying not to show it.  "I'm getting there. Weren't we together facing death in that bubble in space, before we ended up on the planet Abras?"

Kevin leaned back in his command chair, and his face took on a puzzled expression. "Amy is the point of this? What does she…?"

Billy cut him off, "Last year, wasn't I right there with you when we investigated that asteroid that was going to slam into the Earth and kill everyone?"

"Uh, yeah,"  Kevin's voice revealed a wariness as to where this conversation was heading and why Billy, who was normally very blunt in everything he said, would be taking such a roundabout route to his point. "I get the idea. We are friends. We have been inseparable for several years now. So…"

Billy took his feet off the console, planting them back on the deck and leaned forward. "Yes!  We are and always will be close friends,"  He paused, "even if one of us—like maybe me—were to do something that seemed as though it could hurt that friendship."

The look of anticipation on Kevin's face was obvious. "Yeeaaaahhh?" One eyebrow rose as he drew out the word. "So, what did you do—or are about to do," He pasted on an artificial smile.  "that's going to make me want to break your jaw? What does Amy have to do with this?" 

Billy finally blurted out, "I want to date Amy."

Shock.

The words sunk in like an ice shard pressed slowly into Kevin's heart.  He would rather have had Billy double up his fist and punch him hard in the stomach.  That would have been far less painful.  The words "How could you do this to me!" begged to be screamed aloud, but he found others and at a much lower volume.  "Uh, okay.  So why should I care?"

A Bit of Robot Poetry

The Roboticist's Delusion

  By Dan Mickle (2011)

_____________________

The roboticist's delusion

That he could build a fusion

Of a girl and an extrusion

At last brought him effusion

As it led to this conclusion:

While her body showed confusion

Her bright eyes brought the allusion

Of an angel in seclusion.

_____________________

First posted on a page of the online robotics group; LetsMakeRobots.com

I considered that the last line should technically start with "To" rather than "Of", but I finally decided I preferred "Of" in that position. Also while the meter is not perfect (one missing beat in each of lines 2 and 4), I am happy overall with the outcome. I will leave it as is.

I should have been writing.

Today, I took some time out from writing to work on a small planetary-rover-style robot.

No joking.

I write primarily science fiction (as opposed to fantasy) under the premise that you should write what you know and I know science, –whether you are talking quantum physics, astronomy, weaponry, nano-tech, ship design or just computers and electronics. I try to make all my Sci-Fi stories have real science behind them. The fiction portion includes taking the science to the next logical step that Earth humans will reach in the future once they explore that particular scientific notion.

Back to my project. There was one piece on the robot that I previously made from plastic, which had come out poorly, so I decided to replace it with a metal one, but spray-paint it the same colour as the plastic I was replacing.

(GROAN! ...What was that about the best-laid plans of mice and men?)

I made the new replacement piece out of metal.  That part went well.  Then I picked up my can of colonial white spray paint that matched the colour of the plastic pieces and pressed the spray top.

Nothing happened.

Clogged.

With no other choice occurring to me, I set off up two flights to my bedroom in search of a sharp pin to clean the spray nozzle.  That seemed to go well, but upon returning to my shop, the paint still failed to spray.  It turned out that the clog was further down in the can, just below the spray nozzle. Taking a drill bit the right size to fit in there, I started trying to clean it out.

As it happened, I had never changed my shirt, thinking I would be very careful and not get grease or stain on it. It was Sunday and I was still wearing one of my expensive shirts, which cost 35 each, even with a discount. Add to this a clogged spray can full of pressure and wet paint of a far different colour from the shirt. I was pressing down with drill bit when the clog let loose. Obviously, paint travelling up the spiral grooves of the drill bit would spray in a circular pattern all around, and too quickly for human reflexes to avoid totally.

The last factor in this equation must relate to the combination of the paint being "fast drying" and my inability to find either turpentine or paint-thinner... Add that to "expensive shirt" and you KNOW what happened. That certainly added to the cost of the robot project –and not in a good way.

I should have been writing.

Pictures for your entertainment

These pictures are a bit of artwork I created for my series. (Sorry but I put low resolution copies on here to avoid theft.)

The first one is Greenbriar Academy, located in western Maryland, USA on a mountain just south of the small village of Rowenfell, which regrettably you won't find on any normal maps.

The second picture is a small ship called a Corsair, which holds a 4-person crew.  This triangular craft was built around 70,000 years ago on a planet on the far side of the galactic core, roughly 35,000 to 40,000 light years from Earth. (It, and ones like it, only arrived on Earth very recently.)

I actually made these pictures for personal inspiration while writing the novels in which they appear.

My little space in cyberspace -the beginning

I'm setting this up to show a bit of my writing to any who happen along this road.
I write stories primarily aimed at teens and young adults, but I won't tell if you are not in that age group and find the writing of interest.