The Storm – HK Fiction

        Warning: This is NOT one of those touchy-feely things! Well, okay, maybe a little... but not all of it.

        Also: This is NOT art!!! At All!

        This is a fanfic I decided to write in four line-paragraphs and have every other last word rhyme with every other last word. This, however, does NOT mean this is in any way, an attempt at real poetry. Why? Well.... the poetry muse would SUE me. And we don't want that now, do we? Besides, I don't have any money to pay her... (much less Greek money!!!)... plus, it would be an insult to real poets so, soon my mailbox would be flooded with very artistic and well written Hate Mail! We don't want that either...

        In short: this is just for fun, I'm NOT a native English speaker so I wouldn't DREAM of trying to write like one.

        This being said, I leave you now with the following piece of... ehem... Lit.

         

          Houston Knights in rhyme.
          Enjoy!
         


        The English is bad,
        As my verses and times,
        But I just don't care,
        What the hell... hey! It rhymes!

        The Storm

        An Action Poem
        By Killash 'The Plume'

         

        As the cold night devoured the still busy day,
        And a sheet of dark clouds covered all of the town,
        A fast, flying metal piece cut through the air
        To pierce a young man who was already down.
         
        In his eyes a blue light, lingered distant and cold,
        In his chest a heart fought to keep beating in pain,
        In his mind he saw memories, both newborn and old,
        In his mouth just a whisper was lost in the rain.
         
        All the images danced, as his handsome face paled,
        All his aches and illusions were melted as one,
        He went back to the sea where his lifeboat once sailed
        And his hands clutched the rudder that steered him to land.
         
        There he was, standing strong, his soul light as a feather
        Still holding the dream he once knew life to be
        He would stay there forever, and face the cruel weather
        He would fight to the end, he desired to live.
         
        Once before, in a place where his memories shattered,
        He had lost that firm grip when the wind came to blow
        He had let his boat stir and his dreams had been battered,
        His tears had been lost in the ocean below.
         
        He saw everything sink in a turmoil of sadness,
        The life he once knew disappeared from his hands,
        Like thin sand through his fingers, it all turned to blackness
        And at last, though still standing, he fell into a trance.
         
        Then loneliness caught him, there was no relief
        Consumed and abandoned, nothing to believe
        His misery trapped him, no end to his grief
        He soon lost his focus, his reason to live
         
        As his beacon went off, and he stumbled in daze
        A blond angel came and gave him a grip,
        Life took a new shape, he saw light through the haze
        And the helping hand led him again to his ship.
         
        With a Stetson for halo, this angel of God,
        Rode down from the hill without wings or white gown.
        Only light in that smile and a heart of pure gold,
        Became guide to this sailor he'd never let down.
         
        So, again he looked forward, new hope made him ready,
        With an angel beside him, What could the wind do?
        He was back at the helm and his grip strong and steady,
        A new tour had begun and the old one was through.
         
        Now the rain fell like stones and his face was aware,
        But the ride was not over, and storm winds he fought,
        "Let the world come toward me, the waves hit me square,
        I will not let go this time, I swear I will not."
         
        So he silently battled the cold grasp of death,
        As the angel kneeled down right beside him in fright,
        He was talking and pleading his friend for a breath,
        But the storm was too great, they were losing the fight.
         
        There they were, on the pavement, one up and one lying,
        As the stormy rain poured there was so much to save,
        Friend and friend, hand in hand, they were hit by the lightning,
        But strong and unmoving, no, they wouldn't cave.
         
        Cold cut through him, he trembled, his chest seared by pain
        He looked up to the sky as his strength began fading,
        He could barely hold on as the waves crashed again
        Water splashed through the deck and the hull began breaking.
         
        To the rudder he held as he cried out for mercy,
        Felt water hit water, life slipped, he lost balance,
        Wood cracked, he lost foot but still held on tightly,
        'Till at last his hand slipped and he screamed in the silence.
         
        There he was, half-alive, half enveloped in cold,
        He fell to the darkness, dread making an entrance
        He knew nothing would save him except his own soul
        But the strength of the wind pulled at him with a vengeance.
         
        "Help!" he thought, "Who's to help me? Please give me an anchor!
        I won't die, I have promised, but death wants its way,
        I can't lose, I don't want to, not now, I'm too young,
        I have so much to learn, please I beg, let me stay."
         
        Still waves kept on ripping and though he did try
        Could not stop the pull as his strength left for good,
        Torn up from the rudder he let out a cry
        And slipped leaving all feeling scraped on the wood.
         
        "No!" he heard, one loud scream through the thunder and lightning,
        The angel above... 'twas his heart that just broke.
        "I'm so sorry" he thought, "I did try, please forgive me!"
        In the water of sadness, his body was soaked.
         
        "You can't do this!" he heard, as the waves crashed below
        He had lost the fight fairly and dead he would be,
        "I can't do it! I'm sorry!" his voice would not show
        And the slipping continued on towards the sea.
         
        Then silence invaded and with his last breath,
        He tried once again to pull through his despair,
        Nothing there could sustain him, he slid toward death
        And frustrated, he clutched both his hands on dead air.
         
        But as life slipped away he felt something, a hand,
        A strong hold in his own, a last hope to survive.
        It was *him*, he could feel it, his friend right beside him,
        He was there for support, there to keep him alive.
         
        So with courage he fought, back to hell, back to pain,
        Back to where it hurt most, that was life, that was it,
        He held on to the hand that led back through the rain
        And his heart lived again with a soft steady beat.
         
        He was back, now he knew it, he opened his eyes,
        And he saw his best friend kneeling by him in fear,
        Lights around, rain above and their hands clasped together
        His friend slowly smiled down as he let out a tear.
         
        "He's alive" he kept hearing, "Thank God!" someone echoed,
        His eyes kept on looking, he heard lightning crack,
        Soon all fell upon him and life became painful
        But he wouldn't sleep, or else death could come back.
         
        He opened his eyes and looked up to the clouds
        He knew they had won so, he managed a smile
        The angel sighed deeply and laughed right out loud
        Their hearts full of joy kept them silent a while.
         
        As the night grew much darker, and doctors arrived,
        The light in his eyes was still shining in blue,
        His red blood grew colder but he wasn't frightened
        "There's nothing to fear, I'm alive, so are you."
         
        Still holding his hand, what he said didn't matter
        How to pick out the words for the one who has saved you?
        "Man, you gave me an anchor, I'll never forget it!
        You're my brother, my friend, I 'm in debt, cowboy: Thank you."
         
        Finis
         

         

        Feedback? Hee hee, I shouldn’t even dare to ask for it, but well... I’d be most grateful! Let me know what you think, should I quit while I’m behind, go ahead and destroy the genre, or reconsider my life choices? Tell me... I’m strong, I can take it... kinda... Killash7@yahoo.com

        Copyrighted, May 10th, 2000 by Killash.

           

         
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