Archive for April, 2013

clam2A kids poem for you, the Mom and Dad challenged…enjoy!



A kids poem by Terofil Gizelbach

 Copyright Terofil Gizelbach, 2013




…If I were sandy, as sandy as they,

I’d be too scratchy to run, too itchy to play.

I’d have sand in my ears, sand in my nose;

And another five pounds trapped in my clothes.

Dad says “They like it,” But I think that’s all blab…

Fill a bucket with water, I’m washing a crab.


If I were scattered, as scattered as they,

I’d be jumping in circles, and running astray.

I’d hop, leap, and bounce (if I had a wall),

With no more direction than a red rubber ball.

Mom says: “They’re dirty—leave them alone please,”

But I think it’s time to start herding sand fleas.


If I were grumpy, as grumpy as they,

I’d kick shells at the gulls; I’d throw trash in the bay.

I’d put sand in Mom’s lotion, and water Dad’s towel;

I’d be cross all day, my mood would be foul.

Dad says: “It’s okay; they don’t mean it a bit,”

But I disagree, I’m teaching clams not to spit.



For another kids poem like this one, please visit the “Young Reader’s” page. For an interesting site on catching, keeping, and feeding sand crabs, please visit



Mini adventures. Mini Sci-Fi. Mini History. Mini Fantasy. Mini-escapes. That’s what you can expect from the “Five-Minute Escape” short-short story!

TIME: Stardate 2348. PLACE: Star Sector Poluria onboard the Star Freighter “Tiberias”


Kill a rogue E-5 Unit before it takes out the ten crewman trapped on the Hangar deck…Great. Ask me something easy, Security Officer Cash thought as he checked the load in his autogun. Twenty rounds, nitro-tipped. Enough to cut through anything but a ship’s hull. Enough to knock down an E-5. Even a hack-job that had killed two crewmen. If he could catch it napping…

Like all “aware” machinery, the E-5 Loader was docile normally. But somebody had altered this one’s programming. No brainer, probably a competing corporate council. Shut down the interplanetary transports and you shut down the corporation.

Cash shuffled forward, sweat trickling into his eyes. He ran a sleeve across his forehead. Soldiering was not really in his line. He was a security officer—but of the online kind, protecting the ship’s computers. He listened for the E5 as he moved, heard the deck plates thrumming ominously with vibrations from the ion propulsion unit in the engineering deck below. He rounded a corner, autogun poised, checking the corridor outside the hangar first with his intel-cam. Blue halls, exposed aluminum flooring…a body, sprawled across the deck. Victim number three. Cash nudged the man with his boot, checking for signs of life.

“Crewman down by airlock 2B. Talk to me, Bridge, I need intel–”

“Roger, the E5’s in Hangar bay 2-B, turning your direction,” his earpiece crackled back urgently. “Twenty meters and closing–”

So close. He stared pensively at the sign for hangar bay 2B. Paused his finger above its air lock release button. E-5’s weren’t conventionally armed; it had killed using its loading grippers. But if it’s waiting on the other side…

Cash triggered the hatch release button and darted into the hangar. He had a brief glimpse of towering shuttles, piles of machinery, shadows. The door clanged behind. Cash spun involuntarily at the noise, knowing even as he did so that it was a mistake. He felt himself being lifted; was hurled four meters to the deck, losing his autogun.

Cash rolled, grunting in pain as his arm flopped unnaturally beneath him. The  autogun—There! A meter, maybe less. The E-5—

Attacking. Treads spinning, it bore down upon him. Grippers extended. 450 man-killing kilograms of steel, reaching­–

Cash lunged for his weapon, moaning. The E-5’s gripper snapped down on his injured arm. With his left hand he clawed up the autogun, braced it against the deck.

“Trigger, pull, autofire—”

“Now! Now!” Explosions ripped through the hangar. Metal chunks flew from the E-5 in mini starbursts. The machine lurched, its vis-sensors blinking, its “brain” housing disintegrating into fragments. Cash grunted; shrapnel tore his shoulder. He forced the autogun back on target, two rounds tipping the unit. Trigger, trigger, trigger, die, dammit, die! He fired, gritting his teeth, feeding more shots into the thing’s steel underbelly…until, after a second or two, the weapon clicked to empty and flames consumed the Loader.

I got it…got it…

He regarded the loader, remembering how to breathe. A lone vis-sensor stared back from the wreckage, wreathed in smoke. Firelight played off Cash’s fatigues and illuminated the shuttles looming overhead.

“I don’t understand,” said Cash over the crackle of the flames. “Why hack an E-5, one lousy E-5? Why not just hack the entire ship? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t m—”

He stiffened as, almost in answer, the vibrations from the ion propulsion unit in the engineering deck below ceased. Behind him, the airlock doors slid open. A generator hummed to life. With agonizing slowness, the hangar doors opened. He turned, watching the black slit between widening, yawning…

A diversion. The E-5 was nothing but a diversion to keep me busy.

Cash stared into deep space as air rushed from the ship. He whispered “No…” when the endless night poured in upon him.

The stars beyond were very cold.




(For more information about industrial robots, please check out this excellent link:


Each “Five-Minute Escape short-short story in this blog series will be kept under 1500 words; most will clock in at about 500. The “Five-Minute Escape” short-short story will allow you to log on, take a fast trip, and get back quick to what you should have been doing in the first place…though hopefully the experience will stay with you long after you have moved on to something else. Subscribe to the blog and take a weekly…”Five-Minute Escape!”

File0020A head noogies kids poem for you, the Mom and Dad challenged…enjoy!


A kids poem by Terofil Gizelbach

Copyright Terofil Gizelbach 2013

In the kingdom of Foodles

In the county of Zusk

Lived two Foodle-ites

Named Zenvie and Pusk.


Pusk didn’t like Zenvie

Zenvie didn’t like Pusk

Both were filled with envy

Of the other Foodle-ites’ stuff.


Zenvie bought a thuddle-whumper

Pusk bought one bigger

Zenvie bought a thing-ama-job

Pusk bought a thing-ama-jigger


Zenvie bought a shiny new bubble-car

Pusk bought a bubble-car bus

Zenvie bought a beach-walker-boat

But Pusk’d bought one first.


Pusk bought a brand new home

Then Zenvie bought one too

Pusk put in a grassy green lawn

But Zenvie had his lawn painted blue


They spent and spent and tried and tried

The other each other to out do

And then went broke at the end of the month

When all the bills were due.


Last I heard of those two silly Foodles

They were locked in a heated spat.

To see which one would starve away first

It’s a good thing that Foodle-ites are fat.



For another kids poem like this one, please visit the “Young Reader’s” page.


A kids poem illustration for "Eleven from Eight Equals One Robot."

A “Head Noogies” kids poem for you, the Mom and Dad challenged…enjoy!


A kids poem by Terofil Gizelbach

Copyright Terofil Gizelbach, 2013


One robot, two robots, three robots, four…

Run quick! Scoot! I gotta shut the door!

Five robots, six robots, seven robots, eight…

Get a wrench fast, I hope its not too late!

Eight robots, seven robots, six and now just five…

I’m taking ‘em apart, you bet, as fast as they arrive!

Four clankers, three ‘clinkers, two ‘bots, an’ now just one…

What’ll I do with all this robot junk…it must weigh a ton!

Oh gosh, to get it all out, I’ll need this one robot plus ten…

C’mon now, you robot—help me put ‘em all back together again!



For another kids poem like this one, please visit the “Young Reader’s” page. For more cool info about  robots, please check out this excellent link:


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