Thursday, 1 June 2017

The Pods

The Pods   
by Clive Culverhouse

Rotors slowed and sound waned
as the helicopter sided, meeting the ground
in a heart stopping flame
A distant plane plunged to a wing tipping contact
the fireball cruel and final
My window pane seemed like a screen
showing horrors as I stood with frozen eyes
for it wasn’t the carnage that held me
It was the pods that had descended from high
Metallic dull and balloon-like as they hung still
equally spaced from close by to the horizon
and there they waited, menacingly
I knew I should have shouted
“Come away from the window!”
but my children’s screens held them fast
as mine was holding me
where seconds spread into eternity
In coordinated unison something opened
and the pods began to empty
Dots, many dots, gushing out joining those that
emptied out of other pods to a swarm of acrobatic
flights of swirls, folds and ripples
Breath-taking beauty above death fires below
The skies darkened with these pod entities
A fog engulfing all, like a plague
of otherworldly wonder, but still I stood
motionless at my windowed screen
I do not know how but in my transfixed state
I realised the dots were already in with us
We were now no longer alone
But they were not dots
A soft flow of disturbed air blew with a hum
they were tiny bird-like creatures, mildly coloured
and they were filling every space as the pecking
began with sharp pricking almost tickling
but these creatures seemed too eager
to make their contact as their annoying intrusion
was short lived and the fizzing swell lost interest
and moved on as one, and it was all done
The pods hung above as the swarm swirled on
Every house, person and animal was subjected
to a frenzy of mysterious pecking
that left only bemusement as my body looked
unharmed, but could it really be that pods
would come to us from space and unleash
such strangeness upon our planet
Have we just been attacked
Have we been greeted, or
have we just been monitored and sampled
primed and readied for further agenda
The swarm was now distant as I watched
from my window, puzzled that an alien attack
had just tickled, seemingly to have failed
Did planet earth defeat these beings
Did we win…
I should have noticed that my children
were no longer watching with me
I should have seen them laying by my feet
as my eyes drew heavy and a headache was surging
But I too dropped
But just before I did, through my screened pane
I thought I caught sight of someone
picking themself up
before everything went black

© 2017 Clive Culverhouse. All rights reserved. This poem is the property of Clive Culverhouse and may not be used without permission.


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