Saturday, 29 April 2017

The Long Plain, a Doctor Who poem

by Adam D.A. Manning

The long plain, empty under a thundering sky,
Washed by an interminable rain,
Is ignorant witness to a supernatural landing.
A second, shorter recital of lighting,
And, oddly, a linear dark cabinet,
Breaks the horizon, unpeninsulared before.

A creak of wood, the box's entrance ajar,
Inside a warm light can be discerned,
Accompanied by happy, playful voices.
"We've spent too long in here cooped up",
Tells one, a man, deeply and with affection,
"10.981 hours, Master", answers another without correction.

The wind and rain pour on with free remit,
Dash, thrash the obstinate Time Ship.
"Just a minute, I'll check the weather", notes the vessel's captain.
"I'll take my sharp knife", a female voice cuts in.
The door unshuts three inches more,
A head of curly hair pushes out to stare,
"Oh bother, I left my brolly on Metebelis Four!"

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