In Which I Explain The Motivation Behind A Hashtag (#doctorwhotillmyeyesbleed)

I lived without TV for many years,

Well over ten, if truth indeed be told.

I missed it not, except for -- bring the jeers --

One show from overseas I'd loved of old.

That show was Doctor Who, which only came

To me in Saratoga, much delayed,

Through Denver's PBS, which bore the flame

Of wobbly sets and Time Lords, chiefly played

By one Tom Baker, then Pete Davison.

The show went on without me, glad to say,

While I attended Bard, grad school, had fun

In Boston writing for odd 'zines, away

From any cathode ray tubes but now I've

A hankerin' to see Docs beyond Five.

In Which I Prepare To Accept An Honor

My face had scarce resumed its corpselike hue,
From yet another morning's pedal in
To work (it turns quite red; exertion do
Have its effects!), when I learned, for the win,
That I am Nerdabout's Geek of the Week!
Who says that sonnet-writing never pays?
The Science Channel finds my work unique
Enough to earn this much sought-after praise!
You may object that I'm not featured there
As yet; I'm still at work as I type this
And have no photograph to send with flair
Enough to suit this purpose. Here's a kiss
To all my science friends who've so inspired
The sonnet geekery that has transpired.

Father's Day Sonnet: In Which I Celebrate My Own Dear Personal Dad's Verbal Gifts

My Dad's been a Patrolman, Sheriff, Judge,

As acts to follow go, he's pretty hard.

A storyteller, too - I don't begrudge

His greater skills than mine there. And regard,

His phraseology is unsurpassed:

He has heard, sometimes, fishworms fart before,

You're "Little Buckaroo" until you're classed

Perhaps as "Sports Fan," "Bub" or "Coyote", or

Some brand new sobriquet as yet unknown.

As "drunker than a waltzing go-to-hell"

And "Glad you got to see me" both have shone

Forth brightly from his discourse, you see well

Where I come by my weird-ass verbal feats,

Raised as I've been on such lexical treats.

Sonnet For Josh And Sarah Kelly, On The Occasion Of Their Wedding

At Vedauwoo I watched, before the storm,

Beneath the shadow of enormous rocks,

Amidst the scent of pines and in the warm

Light of the sun sound of calling flocks

Of birds and of rock climbers, as my friends

Sipped water, layered sand and shared a gaze

Presaging a long trip that never ends.

It's evening now; they're drenched and in a daze:

The thunder pealed, the clouds cut loose with rain

And hail as they wrapped up their promises.

Two families rejoiced well in their gain.

Now he is hers as well as she is his.

True to each other, true too to themselves,

And ever merry as befits two elves.

In Which The Biomechanical Filmmaker Is Congratulated Twice Over

Oh no, I say, perhaps we'd all best run --
Though he could catch us on his motorbike --
Brent Weichsel now is twenty, having fun,
And he just got some news I'd also like
To share here with my readers, who should know
Already of his film work from his site,
The news that it has reached a great plateau
Of recognition. I am pleased to write:
A Parsec nomination now is his!
His podcast on filmmaking is a must
For anyone with int'rest in that biz
Or in how art is conjured from the dust
Of basements or the mental rubbish bin.
Underdevelopment is for the win!

In Which I Watch A Legend Grow

The internet's a snowball of info
To which it's fun to add as we see fit.
Today's project, should you all want to know,
Is adding to this page - it's quite legit -
Which details the accomplishments of one
J.C. Hutchins, of whom I've writ before.
A Nobel prize is his in medicine!
A Happy Meal's been named for him and more!
A most nefarious conspiracy
Was launched to hide his knighthood from us. Howl!
(And if you check him on IMDB,
You'd see none of his cameos. Cry foul!)
I'm sure that ere this edifying day
Is through we'll find out that his skin is grey.

In Which A Weird Co-Twit-cidence Has Me Flabbergasted

Baton-twirlers have nothing on this guy,
Josh Womack, with his mad bat-ninja skills!
My gosh, the torque he somehow doth apply
To make that bat spin. It gives me the chills,
And I'm not very much a baseball fan.
But freakish talent grabs me every time,
As freak coincidences also do. Oh man!
Somehow my fav'rite writer, one whom I'm
Quite proud to name as William Gibson, found
Me passing on a tweet about this clip,
And made the choice to pass it all around.
It's called re-tweeting, and it's quite a trip,
When someone I admire deigns to see
And geek on something that's deligthed me.

BONUS BONUS SONNET: In Which Mary And I Claim Credit For The Weather Clearing For The Big Launch

The weather threatened to delay our launch

Of LRO and L-CROSS to the moon.

A lightning storm would violate the staunch

Rulebook regarding really just how soon

We can ignite the rocket, fire it off.

So my fair tweep, Mactavish, yea, and I,

Though skeptics to the bone and prone to scoff

At magic thinking, sucked it up to try

Propitiating the great mad god Thor.

A sacrificial goat would be the best,

But hard to come by. She and I, therefore,

Winos for NASA, put this to the test:

A sweet, sweet wine tastes almost quite like mead

Could pouring some for Thor help us succeed?

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Plan To Order Up A Pizza... For Science!

At Stirling University, was learned

A fact I've long suspected to be true.

That same stuff which so many mouths has burned

Is what makes pizza taste good in review!

The pizza sauce has fibers in it which

Prevents the crust from getting soggy, and

Keeps cheesy goodness in its place, all rich

And lovely on the top. That's why it's grand,

That pizza, cold, the morning after we've

Had it all hot and fresh, delivered or

Homemade in our own ovens. Always leave

Some for the next day. Research is a chore

But it's important that these great results

Are proved and proved again, by smart adults!

In Which I Crane My Neck And Wait For LRO/LCROSS To Tell Me More

Outdoors at night, where do we always look?

Into the sky; the moon is shining there.

I'd be there now were wishing what it took,

But just one girl can wish, but never dare

The aether on her own, nor go so far

(Two hundred thousand miles in airless cold).

It takes a civ'lization's works, as our

Space program's done, to reach what we behold

As indirect light from our sister stone,

Explore its peaks and valleys, craters, plains.

No part of it can yet be called our own,

No matter what our flag, fragmented, claims.

The first moonwalk was not long ere my birth.

I'm 39 and we're still just on Earth.

In Which I Geek Out On Yet Another NASA Mission - To The Moon!

I'm sad Endeavor's now not going to fly

Until next month, but consolation's had:

An Atlas 5 will streak into the sky

This time tomorrow, leave from the launch pad

With two unmanned craft, destination Moon!

The L-R-O will write the Baedeker,

While LCROSS seeks for water and, real soon,

Will land upon the Lunar South Pole, her

Objective to seek out some water ice

That we've long thought a crater there might hold,

Safe from the sun and enough to suffice

For starting a manned base there in the cold

And hostile, airless world that's Luna. I'll

Watch with eagerness, a Lunaphile!

What's It Sound Like, Indeed

The pitter-patter of four collie feet,

And thuds as she finds a good place to hide,

Alert me even more so than the beat

And drum of thunder, that I must abide

Another thunderstorm. At last a flash

Is visible from my seat at my desk.

They're brief but powerful, these storms; alas,

Though, little rain accomp'nies them out west

(This June so far's had plenty rain but it's

Anomalous that way). Speaking of sound,

The Mud Room of Squee brought on quite a blitz:

Blue Snowflake, welcome to my toybox. Found

On Amazon, and harnessed soon to make

Some sounds to cause th'internet to quake.

Iran: Another Lump Sticking In My Throat

The nation I first learned to hate, at nine
Years old, when hostages were what I cared
About, is now in turmoil, with no sign
Of normalcy returning soon. I'm scared
For all the people who just sought to change
Their leadership and exercise their rights,
Now being shot and beaten if in range
Of government enforcers. Will these fights
And demonstrations end at all well? I
Am pessimistic. Ahmadinejad
Himself a hostage-taker, could defy
My expectations or could run roughshod
O'er hopes and dreams, as seems to be his plan.
His next steps will prove much about the man.

All In A Day's Tweet

Creationists unfollow Mythbusters,
For dissing their museum; meanwhile in
Tehran police are beating protesters
Of likely voting fraud and, for the win,
It's Twitter that is whence the info comes.
Meanwhile a mensch and fellow sonneteer
Makes sure Bagua is not forgotten. Drums
Beat for New Zealand's coming loss, I fear,
To mighty Spain in football, and I'm now
A co-producer on an indie flick
Whose maker's raising funds on Twitter: Wow!
In England, and I'll call this no mean trick,
A tweep is hearing Zappa music live.
All this and more, is what makes Twitter thrive.

Safety First: Or Why I Never Bitch When We Call A Hydrogen Halt

Sometimes the smallest things can cause the worst
Of problems, when they leak from where they ought
Rather than vent, controlled - such as the first
Of all the elements. Lest you forgot,
That's Hydrogen, the smallest, simplest one,
But one that can explode with quite a bang
(As when the Hindenburg came quite undone).
I'm glad, therefore, that NASA's ground crew gang
Discovered on Endeavor such a leak
As paused Discovery some months ago
Until all was put right. Yeah it's some streak
Of luck we're having, but it must be so.
Th'alternatives are not to be allowed:
Retreat or tragedy? Not what we've vowed.