Quake, the Universe, and Everything: Free-Form Poetry

Free-Form Poetry

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What is Free-Form Poetry?
This is poetry with no defined structure. As long as it’s not simple prose (i.e., regular writing), it counts as poetry. Here’s a sample poem I wrote.

Running to and fro
The shamblers bounce about
Tossing lightning as if
There’s no tomorrow.
Nothing can be done
But to run behind a wall.
At least there
You won’t get fried.
—- Maelstrom

The Free-Form Poetry page sprang from the Haiku page, which was originally created by Dragoon. I am no longer accepting poetry submissions.

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The Poems

January 1998 poems:
| Red Myst | tmstifter – Untitled 1 |

February 1998 poems:
| The Quad | Super Nail Gun | A Gibbed Head | [2N] Mephisto – Untitled 1 | Dom-Gymnasium – Untitled 1 |

October 1997 poems:
| The Song of the Dead | Quake at 28.8 kbps |

September 1997 poems:
| Intensity of Quake | Aggression

August 1997 poems:
| The Flag in my Heart | WTF?!

July 1997 poems:
| Quake and Women Don’t Mix | My Life CANNOT be Quake! | Deal With It

June 1997 poems:
| The Man With Quad | Quaker’s Quest | Shambler Trouble | This One is Angry

May 1997 poems:
| Rocket So Red | Bone – Untitled 1 | BGD – Untitled 1 | Abandoned Hope | Crimson and Fairy Dust | The Download | Double Quad Nightmare

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Quaker’s Quest – by JAWIRO

A flash and a sizzle, I appear,
Strafing once, tossing grenades
that chime as they bounce and spin
Gargling explosions and rains of blood
lend testimony of destruction.
Yet, the glowing aura around another
brings the fear, and the frantic pulling back
Fleeing from the temporary god that
laughs at lightning.
Smoke trails and sudden flight,
sound after the fact.
Recoil that leaves me airborne but alive,
blessed armour
Yet… no floor, sudden splash
And screaming prayers to the volcano gods.

Rebirth brings revenge,
pathetic little shots that yet hurt so much
Desperate thoughts of bigger and better
nails and grenades, rockets and lightning,
Awaiting death, and surprised it is not mine
Cursing the lag that makes me stumble all around
to retrieve a pack that is not mine
with weapons I eagerly yield
With crafty thoughts and controlled rage
heading back into darkened corridors,
searching for the red and green bastard
that caused my frags to decrease by one.
To gib, or not to gib.
He will know the answer.

Never mind, I killed him first.


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