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Discussion in 'Poetry Realm' started by the omega man, Jan 7, 2011.

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  1. the omega man

    the omega man so, it goes

    Apr 10, 2003
    Seasoned Vets
    (December 30, 2010)

    Cannon balls set to catapult from their blast pack turtle shells.
    The infantry stood firm; no concern for any hurt gazelles,
    for they were built and bred of gladiatorial substance,
    and a will to kill any antagonist’s obstruction.
    They were outfitted with turtle-skin vest and snake-armor chaps,
    eyes of apathy and desert bed skull caps for hard hats.
    Behind their line trudged their fervent cavalry
    of 12 thousand and 1 men on the tops of mustang saddle seats.
    That front divided firmly by the silhouette of the reptiles’ backs.
    Should the horsemen press any further they’d receive a shoot-back.
    ‘twas a turtle’s war and each hasty human knew that.
    But one man—a mere shoeblack, barely adept to pull his own combat bootstrap—
    trekked from the back through rivers of sumac
    to deliver a message, ‘cause the homing pigeon ne’er flew back.
    He traveled to the front where the prairie ended with a cliff,
    and the gun smoke atmosphere was malignant with one whiff.
    He remained hidden amidst the thick odorous soot,
    as he stood but one inch taller than any foot-soldier’s boot.
    The Chelonian warriors were a mountain range with summits hidden in the clouds.
    They were pillars of excellence; the props for the proud.
    The wind squeezed between their necks and made sounds that soughed.
    Then, the diminutive braveheart opened his mouth and shouted out loud.
    To vocalize that distinct sound was a mistake he’d regret,
    as one faceless loggerhead took a large step.
    The rest of them followed in unison next.
    And the messenger fell back with his head to the deck.
    The eruption from the back pack cannons was boisterous and sharp.
    Only one shot was released from each; aimed across the ominous scarp.
    The rebellious rabbits were of course their obvious mark,
    but the spherical torpedoes descended from too high of an arc.
    Like shrapnel the balls fell to the ground near their leathery feet,
    and the shell-less intruder was crushed underneath.
    If only the soldiers had heard his message so sweet
    they would have known their enemies wished not to compete.​
  2. G Force

    G Force Member

    Jan 8, 2011
    This was quite an interesting read. I like the imagery you created here and the sense of mystery within the ryme scheme. I thought it was written like a rap with a poetic twang.
  3. Coup d'état

    Coup d'état Don't believe the hype

    Jun 19, 2009
    bump-this was an RSTL verse composed for competition.
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