Hello. I'm trying a new abaca scheme that I've been wondering about, and a metre that I'm not used to as well. Sort of experimenting. And ah! A perfect ten stanzas! Mister Monk would be so proud...
Proceed with caution: season seven sadness and spoilers ahead. Sorry there's no Clara; she's just such an Impossible Girl to write, you know... ;)
River, River, River Song,
Whose days are short
And nights are long,
Has known the Doctor since his 'death',
But back then she was Melody Pond.
Professor of archæology, the Doctor's wife,
Sometimes she kills him,
And others, saves his life.
An upbringing of Silence and pain and forgetting,
She was raised as a weapon, a tempting knife.
But with whom else could she fall in love?
Her charge, her duty
She's heard so much of —
Amy's Raggedy Man, whom she's waiting for,
In the funny, blue phone box 'mongst the stars high above.
Amy and Rory, Rory Pond!
("That's not how it works!"):
Their daughter's blonde
And older than them; they grew up with her.
But does it matter? ... All three are gone.
That man, that man, that daft old man —
So kind, so alone,
Whose friends once again
Have left him — of course, not of their will;
They were taken away by the villains at hand.
The Angels! The Angels — they'll live you to death.
And Manhattan, New York
Was swarming — a nest!
Amy and Rory: the roof, the last page,
The cemetery where they're laid to rest...
Hers was the first that his face saw:
Amelia Pond —
She saved us all.
The Atraxi, P. Zero, but not one single duck!
In the 'duck pond', so-called — what's that crack in the wall?
Our hero himself has already died:
Trenzalore's where
His grave resides.
But that's in the future (I know I said past,
But it doesn't much matter. For now, he's alive).
The hour strikes Twelve, maybe twelve-and-a-half,
I really don't know —
Is it Thirteen, perhaps?
The hour of him! Kidneys and all,
The one aft'r Eleven's upon us at last.
Doctor, Doctor, Doctor — Who?
He dies sometimes,
His body made new,
The Lonely God, a Lord of Time,
The melancholy man* with torn hearts two.
*many thanks to my best friends for introducing me to the song "Melancholy Astronautic Man" by Allie Moss:
What a melancholy
astronautic man —
You know that you're falling
without a place to land
your heart,
and you are worlds apart,
even though she's in your arms...
Oh, and did you catch my cleverness? "Big ball of 'rhymey-wimey' stuff" — thought of that myself. Hold the applause, please.