- Joined
- Jul 26, 2008
- Messages
- 358
A poem based off of the first half of Edger Allen Poe's The Raven.
Once upon an evening dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a thought and strategy, to capture c-point number four.
While I spawned, dreams of capping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my respawn door.
`'A friggin spy,' I muttered, `tapping at my respawn door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was Dustbowl mid-December,
And each separate dying member respawned only to rejoin the gore.
Eagerly I wished the finsh; - we only had three more minutes
Before we lost the round - lost and defend on red once more.
How I hated having to defend caps on red once more -
Especially cap number four.
All the sounds of battle raining, Through the thin door's metal plating
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'A friggin spy sapping teles at my respawn door -
Some dumb red spy sapping teles at my respawn door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
Out I ran into the madness, charging head on into gore;
Saw my team was really failing, medics dead and spies were bailing,
Red pyros then came 'round the corner, making them burn on the floor.
A demo had red dots upon him - Bang! He fell upon the floor.
Failure here, and nothing more.
Far I ran past all the fighting, hoping I had a chance at righting,
fixing, capping like no mortal ever dared to cap before
But the sentry was undaunted, and the rockets, me they vaulted,
Next thing I knew I was staring once again at my respawn door.
'Damn!' I typed out as I made my way back to the respawn door.
Then I saw what I abhor!
The defending team was barging, then, with many a yell and charging,
In front stepped a brutal heavy on the top of Red Team's score!
Not the least good thought made he, not with good sportsmanship he,
But, with craft of demonic cretin, revved outside my respawn door -
revved his trusty Sasha just outside my respawn door -
Revved, and sat, and nothing more!
I ran out to try and kill his medic, but, as he yelled in his Slavic,
'Tiny Baby!' his bullets flew and into my weak bones they tore!
'you big noob!' I typed in anger, as he killed with little danger
soldiers, pyros, demos, spies all layed in blood on the respawn floor!
'Leave our spawn!' I yelled after again falling to the floor!
Quoth the Heavy, 'Cry Some More!'
Poe's poem is much longer, but I didn't want to run it on too much and make it bad material
Once upon an evening dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a thought and strategy, to capture c-point number four.
While I spawned, dreams of capping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my respawn door.
`'A friggin spy,' I muttered, `tapping at my respawn door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was Dustbowl mid-December,
And each separate dying member respawned only to rejoin the gore.
Eagerly I wished the finsh; - we only had three more minutes
Before we lost the round - lost and defend on red once more.
How I hated having to defend caps on red once more -
Especially cap number four.
All the sounds of battle raining, Through the thin door's metal plating
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'A friggin spy sapping teles at my respawn door -
Some dumb red spy sapping teles at my respawn door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
Out I ran into the madness, charging head on into gore;
Saw my team was really failing, medics dead and spies were bailing,
Red pyros then came 'round the corner, making them burn on the floor.
A demo had red dots upon him - Bang! He fell upon the floor.
Failure here, and nothing more.
Far I ran past all the fighting, hoping I had a chance at righting,
fixing, capping like no mortal ever dared to cap before
But the sentry was undaunted, and the rockets, me they vaulted,
Next thing I knew I was staring once again at my respawn door.
'Damn!' I typed out as I made my way back to the respawn door.
Then I saw what I abhor!
The defending team was barging, then, with many a yell and charging,
In front stepped a brutal heavy on the top of Red Team's score!
Not the least good thought made he, not with good sportsmanship he,
But, with craft of demonic cretin, revved outside my respawn door -
revved his trusty Sasha just outside my respawn door -
Revved, and sat, and nothing more!
I ran out to try and kill his medic, but, as he yelled in his Slavic,
'Tiny Baby!' his bullets flew and into my weak bones they tore!
'you big noob!' I typed in anger, as he killed with little danger
soldiers, pyros, demos, spies all layed in blood on the respawn floor!
'Leave our spawn!' I yelled after again falling to the floor!
Quoth the Heavy, 'Cry Some More!'
Poe's poem is much longer, but I didn't want to run it on too much and make it bad material
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Awesome post![=[Ga]= AutoDMC](https://gravatar.com/avatar/12a9fc53f7faa5623bdd75f9aec2029ad6f6c6571bc1bd1d6ba045600ac8689d?s=96){kind=avatar}
