The Coffee Nebula Board is for the discussion of Star Trek: Voyager and other sci-fi/cult shows. This is its Archive of episode discussions, top ten lists, fan fiction, and other miscellaneous musings.


Parodies Of Classical Poetry

Could I B'Elan'
Tracy — 30 Jun 1998

Good grief, on the bandwagon I go!

In Delta Quad Caretaker span'd
A stately 'Campan-dome decree:
Where Kes, the fairest pixie, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
    Up to a parch'd sea.
So twice five miles up to th' ground
Where many Kazon girdled round:
And there with hairdos fright with sinuous tufts
Where blossom'd many a vermin-bearing tress;
And ne're were combs to tame the fluffs,
Enfolding tangl'd locks; the mess.

But oh! that deep lonely array which slanted
Far from planet athwart a starry cover!
A cryptic place! as secret and enchanted
As e'er inside a mystical grave was haunted
By Being wailing for his wayward-lover!
And from this array, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this space in fast thick gasps were breathing,
A tetryon-beam momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Coherent energy vaulted like angels cursed,
Or falling stars into an atmosphere:
And 'mid these magnetic beams at once and ever
It flung up momently the robust river.
Lightyears meandering with a forward motion
Through plasma storms the beam it ran,
Then reach'd the ships filled with man,
And pulled in tumult to a far-off Quadrant:
And 'mid this tumult they heard from afar
Hostile voices prophesying war!
    The shadow of the dome-Ocampan
    Floated midway on the walls;
    Where was heard the mingled din
    From the array the pulsing falls.
It was a work of alien doing,
To a city-dome did forth he bring!

    A damsel with a ridg'd forehead
    In a vision once I saw:
    It was a Klingon maid,
    And from her throat she bade,
    Screaming "Let me go!".
    Could I the far future see,
    This heir of half-Klingon,
    Oh, such a painful bite 'twould win me
That with travel hard and long,
I would be again deep in earth,
That galacite! those caves of dirt!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
Her flashing eyes, her floating hair!
Weave a circle round me; kiss'd,
And close mine eyes with fearful dread,
For she on Blood Fever shall be fed,
And drink in the milk of Par-is.

(With many, many, many apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

(Based on Kublai Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge)