*TARDIS Dreams*






Doctor WHO was a BBC television series that ran for something like twenty three years.  The production quality was low and the audience ratings were high as no less than seven actors portrayed the mysterious time traveler saving the universe week after week with the help of his (generally human) companions.   He traveled and lived in a strange craft that looked like a blue Police Box (no longer found in London, by the way) called a TARDIS - an acronym for Time And Relative Dimension In Space.  The TARDIS may have been sentient, it was certainly "bigger on the inside than on the outside" and frequently prone to breakdowns and independent action.
These poems were inspired by the series.
 
 
 

*Riddle*

The sum of my parts is greater
than any Whole
             I may encompass.
Within these bounds are Time
and Space contained,
from that place before action
until beyond when
all motion has ceased.

Any moment, any where
               are what I offer
and humming, I await
your pleasure.


 
*Plea*

Do not go without me
into futures far away. Do not
leave me here where Space
is only what I see
              and Time shrinks,
each day limiting my moments.

Let me be with you under green skies
and smell the winds of freedom
as we stand together
               against the Darkness.


 
*The Door*

Long hands fumble a pocket search
bringing forth the crumpled sack.
"Ah! Jelly baby?"
                          His smile
an apology. The offered sweet
no substitute for adventure.
The blue door beside him, enticing, ajar
          though not enough for interior views.

"I simply cannot bring you with me."
His eyes are filled with a distant gleam
witness to worlds I may never know.
"You'd be returned to Now
or worse, be lost along the way -
                       it's hardly safe."

Beyond him the door sighs open,
hopeful, an invitation to approach.
He reaches out to bar my way
so I take his arm
                        and lead him in. 


 
*Words*

"You wait here - I'll be back"

We'd be leftovers in the larder
          of ravening Androgums
had I heeded those words last week,
Drashig dinners, long since digested,
or captives of sentient rocks
seeking the mysteries of mobility...

How can I hide in a closet, sequestered,
passive
while momentous events erupt?
                     Besides -
abandoned, directionless, adrift
it could be a long walk home.


 
*Companions*

Remember all the ladies
striding, traipsing, hiding
in the TARDIS halls. And men
as well along the way,
            along the way...
The way is long and even so
I can, for moments
recall their names. At times
         my spin tangential
orbits through their paths
again. This motion
often brings forth
ghost grey memories
shifting, 
       whispering, 
                flowing
                      from the walls.

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There are more Doctor WHO adventures to read if you're interested.....