Joy&RaptorsUnrestrained!'s Poems

A Tribute to a Valiant Knight
The lord strode from his grand throne room

And left his favorite chair,

To confront the dragon of doom

Within its dark and filthy lair.

The dragon, it was vicious; a fierce and deadly brute.

The Burnished Knight it planned to slay, for thrill and for loot.

The Knight was a brave and noble lord,

A scholar, statesman, and skilled with sword,

Strong of body, mind and heart,

past the dragon’s claws he’d dart.

Out the checker-tiled drawbridge he sallied forth,

And charged at his foe for all he was worth.

The creature beat its gossamer wings,

But the Knight did dodge its lethal stings.

The fiend lurched about the air,

Its breath melted armor and singed his hair.

Yet still our hero did not flee,

And with his notebook, struck the bee.

The fearsome monster to the ground fell,

With all its tiny mass.

We all cheered as Sir Mike broke fear’s spell,

AND SAVED THE ENGLISH CLASS!!!!

Characters
Have you ever known what it is to be a friend with a person

Only to find that their life is limited to the weird marks left by a device

On pan caked, masticated wood and three colored dots on a screen?

To have the fate of the world resting on your shoulders

And the ability to do anything in your hands

Only to learn that it means nothing to everyone else?

Have you ever realized that some of the most interesting aspects of your character,

The deepest learned lessons, were personally taught to you

By someone who doesn’t (and never will) exist.

Why is it that one will gobble up sequels in a favorite series

If not to return to one’s old friends, who provide companionship

And protection from the cruel world?

Why is it, that you will spend huge amounts of time,

Gazing at people on screen who are more real to (and beloved by)

Us than the actors who portray them (no matter how hot they are)?

Even Mario and Luigi, Sonic and Tails, Lara Croft and Liu Kang,

All are more real to us than people we pass on the street.

Not only heroes (or protagonists), but villains

Allow us to treasure both our world and the worlds they threaten.

The depravity of TV bad guys, the treachery of video game sorcerers,

The cold, cruel feeling, of a golden ring, that is vicious

…yet precious.

Why is it that when a story comes to a close,

One feels cheated, as if it should have lasted

Longer, and the characters had more life than could

Be found on the pages.

I sometimes find myself wishing,

That I could continue on some great adventure,

And leave behind the “real” world,

With good friends who will stand at my side, forever.

Sharazade’s Serenade
Please, someone tell me

Those tales long untold,

Of villains fierce and heroes bold,

Of spirits great and battles lost,

Of lands of flame and foes of frost.

I beg you, please, do relate

Of Persephone and her Pomegranate,

Of Titania and Oberon’s faerie court,

And the Celtic hills of the People Short,

And sing a Viking warrior’s song,

Of Odin, Thor, and the Immortal Throng.

All the legends, please do tell,

For stories weave an enticing spell.

Take my food and take my drink,

But leave a story of which to think,

For I canst not stand a night,

Without great tales of wonder and fright.

Djinn and demons, great and small,

Swiftly stalk through dragon’s hall,

to steal a treasure of silver or gold,

or, better yet, a tale untold.

Backstage/In Character
Here I huddle silent,

Squished amongst my friends,

Being calm, not violent,

And waiting ‘til it ends.

All decked out in sackcloth,

Silk, linen, wool, and lace.

Wiping off the dust and dirt.

Going over lines.

Straightening out one’s pants or skirt,

As silent as the vines.

Here we sit together,

We the actors, friends and foes,

Steel statues playing feathers,

With the sound of fallen snow.

We listen and watch those onstage,

We hear the dead-still crowd,

While moving softly backstage,

Behind the curtain’s shroud.

And here we continue; here we shall remain.

Here we do our homework to our onstage friends’ refrain.

We sit in silence, chat in whispers, as the stage crew rushes by,

Listening to the sound of actors and their well-rehearsed cry.

We watch, we wait, as the curtains rise and fall,

Until once more we appear, for the curtain call.

The Sphinx’s Lament
I’ve lost my riddle, I’ve lost my rhyme,

I dwell as a being forgotten by time,

Remembered in legends now lost to the past,

I fear my immortality shall fail to last.

Remember me children; my power, my grace,

as an eagle-winged lion, with a human-like face.

Recall, O children, my wisdom and glory,

and Oedipus, Antigone, and the rest in the story.

Now I lie trapped in Egypt’s sands,

I, who once ruled completely these lands.

My muscles have frozen, my jaws have been locked,

I stand all alone, as a monumental rock,

My prey has escaped me, my pride has all fled,

And everyone simply assumes that I’m dead.

My fame is gone. I matter little,

Due to the eternal loss of my riddle.

Proclaimed as a monster, reviled as a beast,

Haunted by tales of a vast human feast.

My purpose is gone, my life’s goal was lost,

At the moment my rhyme’s answer was tossed.

Forgive me, Zeus, Isis, and Cupid,

That I lived my life while acting so stupid.

Had I merely realized that mortals had worth,

My death could hold more beauty than birth.

Instead shall I waste away,

Dreaming of a forgotten day.