Aliens'....Mostly...

My right hand, clawed on arm rest starts to cramp
I dare not loose this tether lest I leap
My left hand shields my eyes, a trembling clamp
A millimetre gap affords a peep.

And so I watch as Ripley finds the nest
(This scene's the best, you're free to disagree)

...to rescue Newt, her suicidal quest
.....in whom the viewers have their hearts invest
.......she flambes eggs with amazonic zest
.........then plucks the girl before she is digest
...........finesses Queen in battle breast to breast
.............and leaves us high on cinematic crest!

But wait, we're told, it seems Newt WAS infest
Bad luck, she's dead, they said, in 'Alien 3'.

poem by Diane Hine
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Efficient

Life's preparatory refuge,
counting down before fate's deluge,
inner sanctum, sacrosanct, the womb.

Safe from scavengers marauding,
temporary home affording,
flickers of awareness time to bloom.

Grey nurse shark's twin uteri keep,
many embryos in eggs sleep,
rouse and hatch with yolks which they consume.

Then by blind instinctive nibblings,
first and fittest eat their siblings,
slaughtered and interred in kindred tomb.

Metre-long with eyes unblinking,
red-brown freckled, awl teeth plinking,
two primed killers leave in gushing flume.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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For The Affirmative

Infinities cannot be fixed and change gives rise to time,
the multiverse is surely mixed, with common and sublime.
Our universe would seem unique, parameters just so,
as if a being gave a tweak, to organize the flow.

We judge by current paradigm, in scientific form
and use inductive steps to climb, towards unstable norm,
but who should say a god is hemmed, by human logic mode,
when surely it is we condemned, by reasoning plateaued.

Environmental cues in youth, may spark an innate sense,
discerning of a greater truth, dimensionless and hence,
while some remain impervious, to spirit's catalyst,
it would be wrong to reason thus, that such could not exist.

poem by Diane Hine
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Gambol (a ghazal)

Received and given, preening doves
in courtship sway, they play for love.

Children bouncing balls off walls,
a ricochet they play for love.

Sculptors stories live in folds
of molded clay they play for love.

Gamblers stake to make or break
in rash parley they play for love.

Newlyweds on feather beds
in hideaways, they play for love.

Chiropractors whack the cracks
on vertebrae they play for love.

Glissandi slip from fingertips,
a strummed segue they play for love.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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Neutralize

In cluttered heads where worries lie
amid the harmless reveries,
A myriad of troubles vie
with varying degrees of pleas.

The winning ones reclassify
the rest as trivialities,
But lest such dreads intensify
cool heads employ penned strategies.

Self medicate with lullaby,
indulge poetic fantasies,
Let rhyme and rhythm overfly
or sample free verse subtleties;
A friend had a great idea for a game. He said-
'Well, you give everyone a suit of armour and a hockey stick',
'And what are the rules'? I asked,
'What rules'? he replied,
'I see', I said.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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The Peacock Spider

The female waits, a speck of dull brown wool.
A rainbow flash is noted by one eye,
disturbing her placidity, but why?
No predators in sight, her stomach's full.

A spider's red-striped head invades her view.
Her instincts, hunt or flight are put on hold.
For one so small, he's curiously bold.
She hesitates, her brain a pinhead stew.

He waves a handsome pair of white-tipped legs.
His iridescent abdomen pulsates.
A vibrant blue, green, red, gold fan dilates.
In mesmerizing dance, his question begs.

Like rabbit's paws, his soft grey palps vibrate.
She contemplates attack to end the mime.
Her palps respond in resonating rhyme.
The arbitrary threads of fate conflate.

poem by Diane Hine
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Anglers in Love

ANGLERFISH LUST (his)
A ppease my greed,
N arcotic scentress,
G lowing pure quintessence.
L et's mix our blood,
E xcite a flood and
R ig my evanescence.
F or I've great need
I nternally, of
S ustenance and succor.
H ear this, my love,
L et's blend, for I'm an
U rgent little sucker.
S hare my organs, I behest these,
T ake, but save my testes.

BIOLUMINESCENT (hers)
B y pheromones
I ‘ll hypnotize you,
O h my darling, bite me.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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No Elegy For Plaster Teeth (Part 2)

Sent to serve as anvils 'gainst which craftsmen shape their ware
Chipped and scored and hacked and sawed, no heed paid to their care
Molten wax dipped, metal-wire clipped hooks from which are hung
Boiled sweet acrylic drapes fine polished, smooth to tongue.

Bearing coronets they wait, mute servants 'gainst the wall
Nurses take their hard-won crowns to patients to install
Duty done, at last returned to place where they were born
Woman eyes them ruefully, they look a touch forlorn.

Buries them without a word 'mongst refuse of like kind
Empathy is not required for things which have no mind
Words will not be needed when the woman's passed away
She and plaster teeth are equal universal clay.

poem by Diane Hine
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Quaternion

Fix belt tip under books on table top
While holding buckle level, step away
Rotate the buckle once; two pi nonstop
A twist results which looping won't unplay.
Restart and rotate buckle four times pi
And now by looping belt round buckle end
The twists are cleared, exhibiting to eye
Zen essence of rotation; comprehend?
Never mind.

October sixteenth, eighteen forty-three,
beside the Royal Canal of Dublin town,
Will Hamilton glimpsed spatial clarity,
as view from fourth dimension looking down.
For multiplying triples, fly one higher,
by summing in a more capacious zone,
‘A circuit closed and spark flashed' to inspire
famed maths graffiti carved in Broome Bridge stone.
i^=j^=k^= ijk = -1

poem by Diane Hine
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Patch

Cousin to okapis [near]
impalas [far] and gnus,
Living life extreme, this peer
enjoys exclusive views.

Made of 'right stuff', toughened hide
prevents veins varicose,
Gallops with a room-length stride
on fingertips and toes.

Blood is pumped with blinding force
to reach his topmost node,
Valves and dams must check the course
so dipped head won't explode.

Seven bones, each lengthy link
adjoins elastic string,
After flexing down to drink
his head rebounds on spring.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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