Quoth the Tiger...
SeanPwnery
Dec 21 2012
In the spirit of a biting cold day, and since there's no creative contests going on, I'll share with you a little something I've been toying with the past couple of days. (Obviously there's no 'historical significance' here) Enjoy.
Quoth the Tiger - A Gunner's Tale...
Once upon a midnight clearing,
the engine idling - the crew so weary,
huddling together on the cold steel Tiger's floor.
While they shivered nearly freezing, suddenly there came a squeezing,
the Commander's eyes were much displeasing, peering through the portal fore.
"Something's out there," he muttered, "closing in, prepare for war"-
only this, and nothing more.
I distinctly remember in this bleak December,
each flake of snow, each dying member,
Eagerly I wished the morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow,
daylight's reprieve from tonight's sorrow - sorrow for those who died the night before -
They're in the hands of the angels now,
nameless here, and here no more.
Then there came the endless creaking, grinding, and uncertain squeaking
it thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
to still the beating of my heart, the crew was repeating
"It's our friends just moving to the fore,
or their tracks would freeze, it's nothing more-
That it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger, hestitating then no longer,
"Commander," said I, "your observation I do implore;
the fact that I was nearly napping, you fell silent, your feet were tapping,
your breathing quickened and your pulse was rapping,
in your mind you were quietly crapping, pointing at my gunsight more,
darkness there and nothing more."
Deep into that darkness peering, long I scanned the treeline clearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
Then the silence was unbroken, the radio crackled - our comrade's spoken,
and the only word that was spoken was the whispered words, "IS-4"
This I whispered, and then murmured back, "IS-4?"
Merely this and nothing more.
Deep inside my turret turning, my loader's scared, my soul is burning,
Soon again I heard a message somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is one of ours;
Let me see, then, this IS-4, and this mystery we'll explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery we'll explore;
It's our comrades, and nothing more!"
Only then the weapon shuddered, the Tiger's hull had groaned, and uttered,
a shell had hit us - bounced and fluttered,
the driver had the pedal floored.
Purely instinct ran did he, not a moment wasted, stopped or stayed did we;
But with fear and anxiety drive did he, into the darkness away from the shot before,
"We can afford another shot, no more!"
I turned my gun, my eyes were smiling,
the Commander calms the driver's flighting,
I'm looking for this heinous enemy, a target for my rapport.
The 88 is hungry for this IS-4,
Here in the freezing darkness, we prepare for war.
Then from our left there burst an explosion,
a turret flew, a hull's implosion,
A frantic message shatters the silence on our Tiger's floor,
"IS-4! IS-4! He killed our comrade, they live no more!"
Startled at the stillness broken, my reply was so aptly spoken,
the main gun firing at the flash we've seen in the distance just moments before.
My loader shaking, his frozen hands quaking,
loading the shell to prolong this pointless war,
as I watch our first shell bounce and do nothing more.
There I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
about an enemy whos eyes now burned into my Tiger's core;
This and more I sat divining, my Commander's thoughts are soon declining,
trying to solve this mystery of how we'll win this war.
"Press on!" he says and nothing more.
Then I thought the air grew denser, perfumed from the powdered censor,
wafting in the turret empty shell after empty shell clanging on the cold steel floor.
"Strength," I cried "my god please lend me - to tame the enemy you sent me,
across the darkened field he comes to try to end my war."
This fruitless fight against this accursed IS-4.
In the open he charged ahead, our group is burning and full of dread,
Three Tigers remain, yet he comes to take OUR head,
The radioman shouts "Fire upon him, or we'll all be dead!"
Suddenly his tank's exploding, our friends are cheering,
my loader's still loading, distrusting of the event before.
Then it came, this nightmarish horror, the enemy is still coming,
advancing, unyielding, and uncaring of the shot that came before.
"Curse you," I scream, "Curse you IS-4!"
He fires back, his shot rang true,
the engine is smoking, we're on fire too,
I wish there was just something else I could do,
dreaming of times from before won't do.
The breach is jammed, the loader's bleeding,
The Commander's unconscious, our victory is fleeting,
One shell remains ready, ready to end this war.
My Tiger is dying, she's crippled and shaking,
the gun is turning, my trigger is quaking,
yet my hand is steady, and a deep breath I'm taking just before...
Before the shot at this IS-4.
Off come the tracks upon his right,
the tank then spins with all its might,
into a trench and tumbles down, down into its floor.
The groaning of the steel disabled to the core.
The driver turns one last time before leaving this scene of war.
The following morning the news had flew,
Of the burning Tiger and the half-dead crew,
who took down this beast who killed so many just the night before.
Out in the field, left there broken,
our comrades are amazed, not a word was spoken,
pictures were taken on and around the abandoned IS-4 -
Never to wreak havoc on the world evermore.
Quoth the Tiger - A Gunner's Tale...
Once upon a midnight clearing,
the engine idling - the crew so weary,
huddling together on the cold steel Tiger's floor.
While they shivered nearly freezing, suddenly there came a squeezing,
the Commander's eyes were much displeasing, peering through the portal fore.
"Something's out there," he muttered, "closing in, prepare for war"-
only this, and nothing more.
I distinctly remember in this bleak December,
each flake of snow, each dying member,
Eagerly I wished the morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow,
daylight's reprieve from tonight's sorrow - sorrow for those who died the night before -
They're in the hands of the angels now,
nameless here, and here no more.
Then there came the endless creaking, grinding, and uncertain squeaking
it thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
to still the beating of my heart, the crew was repeating
"It's our friends just moving to the fore,
or their tracks would freeze, it's nothing more-
That it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger, hestitating then no longer,
"Commander," said I, "your observation I do implore;
the fact that I was nearly napping, you fell silent, your feet were tapping,
your breathing quickened and your pulse was rapping,
in your mind you were quietly crapping, pointing at my gunsight more,
darkness there and nothing more."
Deep into that darkness peering, long I scanned the treeline clearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
Then the silence was unbroken, the radio crackled - our comrade's spoken,
and the only word that was spoken was the whispered words, "IS-4"
This I whispered, and then murmured back, "IS-4?"
Merely this and nothing more.
Deep inside my turret turning, my loader's scared, my soul is burning,
Soon again I heard a message somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is one of ours;
Let me see, then, this IS-4, and this mystery we'll explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery we'll explore;
It's our comrades, and nothing more!"
Only then the weapon shuddered, the Tiger's hull had groaned, and uttered,
a shell had hit us - bounced and fluttered,
the driver had the pedal floored.
Purely instinct ran did he, not a moment wasted, stopped or stayed did we;
But with fear and anxiety drive did he, into the darkness away from the shot before,
"We can afford another shot, no more!"
I turned my gun, my eyes were smiling,
the Commander calms the driver's flighting,
I'm looking for this heinous enemy, a target for my rapport.
The 88 is hungry for this IS-4,
Here in the freezing darkness, we prepare for war.
Then from our left there burst an explosion,
a turret flew, a hull's implosion,
A frantic message shatters the silence on our Tiger's floor,
"IS-4! IS-4! He killed our comrade, they live no more!"
Startled at the stillness broken, my reply was so aptly spoken,
the main gun firing at the flash we've seen in the distance just moments before.
My loader shaking, his frozen hands quaking,
loading the shell to prolong this pointless war,
as I watch our first shell bounce and do nothing more.
There I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
about an enemy whos eyes now burned into my Tiger's core;
This and more I sat divining, my Commander's thoughts are soon declining,
trying to solve this mystery of how we'll win this war.
"Press on!" he says and nothing more.
Then I thought the air grew denser, perfumed from the powdered censor,
wafting in the turret empty shell after empty shell clanging on the cold steel floor.
"Strength," I cried "my god please lend me - to tame the enemy you sent me,
across the darkened field he comes to try to end my war."
This fruitless fight against this accursed IS-4.
In the open he charged ahead, our group is burning and full of dread,
Three Tigers remain, yet he comes to take OUR head,
The radioman shouts "Fire upon him, or we'll all be dead!"
Suddenly his tank's exploding, our friends are cheering,
my loader's still loading, distrusting of the event before.
Then it came, this nightmarish horror, the enemy is still coming,
advancing, unyielding, and uncaring of the shot that came before.
"Curse you," I scream, "Curse you IS-4!"
He fires back, his shot rang true,
the engine is smoking, we're on fire too,
I wish there was just something else I could do,
dreaming of times from before won't do.
The breach is jammed, the loader's bleeding,
The Commander's unconscious, our victory is fleeting,
One shell remains ready, ready to end this war.
My Tiger is dying, she's crippled and shaking,
the gun is turning, my trigger is quaking,
yet my hand is steady, and a deep breath I'm taking just before...
Before the shot at this IS-4.
Off come the tracks upon his right,
the tank then spins with all its might,
into a trench and tumbles down, down into its floor.
The groaning of the steel disabled to the core.
The driver turns one last time before leaving this scene of war.
The following morning the news had flew,
Of the burning Tiger and the half-dead crew,
who took down this beast who killed so many just the night before.
Out in the field, left there broken,
our comrades are amazed, not a word was spoken,
pictures were taken on and around the abandoned IS-4 -
Never to wreak havoc on the world evermore.
AGMx
Dec 21 2012
Ermm ok.. so the IS4 pwned the Tiger, ah I get it, nice story, I think the tiger would of f**ked up any s***ty chinese tank if it came across one
Edited by AGMx, Dec 21 2012 - 23:19.
Edited by AGMx, Dec 21 2012 - 23:19.
StandardToast
Dec 21 2012
That skin and remodel... DO WANT! (Though I know that is not a pic of the Tiger in-game nor is it any remodels I have seen, must be from a different game but still, it looks very cool)
MGElwood
Dec 21 2012
StandardToast, on Dec 21 2012 - 23:41, said:
That skin and remodel... DO WANT! (Though I know that is not a pic of the Tiger in-game nor is it any remodels I have seen, must be from a different game but still, it looks very cool)
Yes it is from the upcoming game Company of Heroes.
Well done poetic verse +1
Aviator193
Dec 22 2012
This poem was both rivetingly beautiful and side splittingly hilarious at the same time. Well done sir.
SeanPwnery
Dec 22 2012
Thanks guys... part of me kinda wished I had waited for a contest but I probably would have forgotten half of this before putting it to paper/print.
If the cadences seem familiar, I modeled this after Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" but I'm sure most people with a keen eye would have spotted this almost immediately. This was the first time in a few years I actually wrote something substantial... not really sure why I went on haitus in the first place. For some reason it was really cold the night before and I started thinking about it and while in a lull at work it just started forming. Overall, the final layout took about 2 hours. Even my boss, who knows nothing about tanks or warfare appreciated it.
If the cadences seem familiar, I modeled this after Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" but I'm sure most people with a keen eye would have spotted this almost immediately. This was the first time in a few years I actually wrote something substantial... not really sure why I went on haitus in the first place. For some reason it was really cold the night before and I started thinking about it and while in a lull at work it just started forming. Overall, the final layout took about 2 hours. Even my boss, who knows nothing about tanks or warfare appreciated it.
