Here, There be a Writer

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Day #26 - Whovian Poetry and A Curtal Sonnet(something new)

What better than being a Whovian. Being a Whovian Poet.

The last Tempest show goes up at 4:00 pm today, so this will be a short entry. "W" is an easy letter to blog about, since I am a Whovian. I am going to present a couple of my past poems written with Doctor Who themes, Dear Readers. Some of you may not have read my Doctor Who sonnets and the daily NaPoWriMo writing prompt, a Curtal Sonnets. A fitting tribute to the Great Bard himself on this last performance of "The Tempest".

The Doctor, the Storm Comes! A Tempest!

Much like the hero upon a white horse
he does ride into battle, blazing bright.
The Doctor a mystery, who is known
to all who dwell upon this planet Earth.
With nary a plan, he takes what troubles
the Earth, because he is always the Doctor.

The sound of Tardis tell of his return,
a subtlety ascribed to no one else.
The Doctor steps outside of his Tardis
and only has to shout but Allons-Y!

or maybe Geronimo!

11:54 am

Whovian Sonnets! Can you guess the topic (unless the title give it away)?

In Need of Jammie Dodgers

When you are in need of some sustenance--
Running across the whole of time and space.
They are the perfect treat of preference
in space Florida you can rest someplace.

They also do in a pinch when you find
That you are hearing what four daleks state--
They are preparing to attack earth-kind,
Doing what they do best, exterminate.

There’s a simple solution to this plight--
You simply pull a Jammie Dodger out
And indicate that it will make all right
With one push, the button will make them pout.

To save the world in your own clever ways,
All while wearing a fez, not a beret.


They Lie in Wait

They lie in the forest shadows fractured
Across the leagues of woody pulp bound books.
Their home, a library where they anchored
and hide them like predators inside nooks.

Waiting until one comes to the refuge
For a book and now they have two shadows.
In the middle of the lighted deluge
They are standing there frozen, locked in pose.

One moment you are, the next but a voice--
Echoing once more, before you looked down
Seeing shadows growing. What was your choice?
All that is left is just one more pronoun.

Silent hunters that roam the halls to wait
Spending still days until the Doctor’s bait.


Staring at the Sky

Staring at the sky through your telescope
At the far stars, wondering, is there more?
What is out there, holding out for a hope
‘Are there others? What could it all be for?’

He met a man, a doctor who unlocks
All of time and space into which he flees.
He landed upon earth in his blue box,
pronouncing defiantly Allons-Y!

But now the earth is bombarded with war
And Wilf with the Doctor rally the way.
They both climb inside the Tardis’ core
Going up and away they fly to save the day.

A dream came true for one who was biding
To prove he was in a space ship riding.


I will be back with a more normal writing schedule tomorrow, Dear Readers! One more show!! Have a fantastic day!

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