The House of Grammar Part 14: One Flew Over the House of Grammar

D spent some time on my birthday taking some photos for my blog posts. This is one of several, and I like it.

On to bloggy goodness.

I've recently been playing a board game with a few folks called Twilight Imperium 3. It's akin to Risk in its tactical and strategic depth, and takes as long if not longer to play through a full game.

One of the game's stronger aspects is the universe the creators have built, and the background for each of the races that players can control. The game I'm currently playing is actually being done via BBS (Oh my God, ANCIENT technology!) and I'm finding myself quite involved not only in the game itself but in the roleplaying side of things.

Currently I'm playing as a race of mercenaries and pirates called the Mentak (How in the heck does this have anything to do with grammar?) Shut up. I'm about to tell you.

I haven't written poetry in quite a while, but something in the background of the Mentak really started to speak to me, so I chose to spend some time writing a couple of poems through the eyes of the Mentak. I have no idea if they are actually good in any respect, but I enjoyed writing them. Fair warning, these are almost pure fan-fiction, with very little substance outside the context of the game, but I'd appreciate feedback anyway. More fair warning: When it comes to poetry I write for feel rather than structure, so at least the first poem is going to come across as a bit sloppy. Imagine it read in an Irish accent, maybe by Sean Bean, and you'll hear it the way it sounded in my head when writing it.

Poem 1: An Ode to Moll Primus

Betwixt the stars, on rails of light we fly
From fields and valleys where unmarked the bones, our fathers', lie
Where shackled once they slaved and strove, with plows they tilled and hoes they hove
And fought with brothers, kin of other mothers
And slew them, and in turn were slain, for lords possessed of greed, and vain.

And now amidst the silent sough of space, the cough of cannon spurs our race
The rusty tang of blood in air, the rending sound of a railgun's tear
The scream of foe hacked down by blade, or his noiseless death by enfilade
His wealth made ours, his last words devoured
By ears long deaf to the words of cowards

But we still dream, in the abyss between the stars, so far from home
Of you, Moll Primus, and the rolling fields of red we left
For we found our brothers, and strove together, and found,
That those who shackled could in turn be shackled,
And bound,
And made humble, through fire and pain

Each breath of air compressed, each sight we take by artificial light
Each time we hear the engines roar, the shields engage and our fighters soar,
Each ship our weapons set ablaze, or tear asunder, each battle waged
Our thoughts are of you, of warmth, of home.
We hear you call us back
Amidst the sounds of plunder.


Poem 2: The Ballad of the Widow's Pain

Of ships oft sung there's many names
Yet there's one rare heard that still remains
A tale worth hearing, so hark the strains
Of the ballad of the Widow's Pain

Her crew was surly, her Captain drunk
Her bosun rare to rise from up his bunk
Her hull was ragged, her engines junk
Worth more a'scuttled, still she slunk

One day she dropped from speed of light
Her thrusters burning with all their might
Her Captain cursed with all his spite,
As she dropped from warp a'to an unexpected fight

Three ships there were, all shining new
Gleaming hulls and disciplined crew
Weapons trained and torpedos flew
A swift death approached and all hands knew

But the captain cried, "No, not today!
"For every drop our blood we make them pay!
"Hands to stations, prep to evade!
"To arms, to glory, to Hell we wade!"

And the Widow's Pain engaged full thrust
And the crew felt the call of battle lust
Into the captain's hands they placed unexpected trust
To fight, to survive, they knew they must

The ship was old but something changed
In her heart burned hot a sudden rage
The bosun shrieked, "All guns, engage!"
And the sky lit fire with the ship's barrage

Swift and true she jigged and yawed
Close missed by cannon, and torpedos' claws
Her weapons fired, trails of fire sawed
And delivered one foe into death's hungry maw

Another lucky shot made the end another,
Her perfect flanks were torn asunder
A ball of fire blossomed with no answering thunder
But one remained, and the crew looked on in wonder

But then the strains of age did tell
This hoary boat that had fought so well,
Klaxons blared, and her speed it fell,
The alarum's cry a funeral bell

"More power, bosun, make her soar!"
"I cannae, Captain, she can give no more!
"The tiller's struck, the dirty whore!
"We cannae turn, only thrust afore!"

With this grim news the Captain set his face
Found now the courage that defined his race
"If death must come, we will find our place,
"Or die forgotten in the depths of space."

The Captain pushed the bosun aside
Took the tiller, his spine stiff with sudden pride
"Into fire I go, into death I ride,
"All hands to lifeboats, save your hides!"

And so while the crew did flee the captain held
The Widow's Pain creaked at every weld
The foe, his doom in the air he smelled
An unfamiliar resolve he felt

Straight as an arrow, hard as rain
So flew the Captain and the Widow's Pain
The foe beckoned them with fury unrestrained
But no wound her trajectory could constrain

Now eye to eye with the foe's gleaming ship
The Captain grit his teeth and bit his lip
Felt the tiller beneath his sweating grip
And with a crash of steel into the foe's hide they ripped

When later came the salvage crews
To find the wrecks of ships old and new
They found still the Captain, standing true,
At the tiller, fused with the ship he slew

She fought with fury, and glory gained,
Her Captain honoured where he once was shamed
No ship come after could such a story claim
Here ends the tale of The Widow's Pain



Anyway, I had fun with these. Please let me know what you think.