Authors Note: The first poem is an emulation of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem Kubla Khan. I endeavored to imitate his style of rhyming, and his syllabic structure in each line. I understand that each line doesn't match the amount of syllables in the corresponding lines of Kubla Khan, but each line in my poem has the same syllables that Kubla Khan did in his lines. In other words, if lines one and three in Kubla Khan both had ten syllables, then lines one and three in my poem might both have thirteen syllables. My poem is about an NBA topic, and I was thinking about it when I started writing so there it is.
LeBron James
In Ohio did LeBron James,
An abundance of flourished fan factions:
Championships, for which he aims
From long bus rides to grueling games
Watching all the fans' reactions.
So long a life of glory and fame
No thought of having to face such shame:
There were back to back record seasons,
The world shocked of what could be the end;
And what could be the start of an evil treason,
The Truth revealing to those who do not consent.
But wait! the superb power that sparked the city
Must not fall now by the selfishness of one man!
What cruel minds! All left with shame and endless pity
Long gone would these foes be from this striving committee
Away they would be into their new van!
Now with this rivalry, with tremendous uproar,
As if this would always be made to abhor,
A strong hatred suddenly was uprooted:
All now know of the action being disputed
New teams are formed at the blink of any eye,
Yet some teams do collapse while going awry:
And sorrow has flooded the hearts of many
Yet owners speak of their odds being plenty.
Some years to come with the powerful Heat
With trouble and success the team will proceed,
Then hoping to achieve their goal to succeed,
But suffered the nightmare of bad defeat:
And hoped they did to gain their glory
Would soon become a startling story!
The sound of the hard court vibrating
The home of many hard working players;
Where the workers cease not gyrating
Collecting money from their payers.
It was a miracle of rare surprise,
A full blast group of three none would advise!
The season turning with many twists
With losses next to many wins:
It was a towering man named Chris,
And by the rim he failed to miss,
With help of two seemingly twins.
The two stars of the newly formed team
Their chemistry and physicality,
Their minds preset to master their dream
That all would know their vitality
Together James and Wade would not fail,
But forget not! the group of three!
Alas they would be as harsh as a nail,
And all should yell, Prevail! Prevail!
Their rapid moves, each flattering male!
Make a bracket with them all would agree,
And pick your favorite to take the prize,
For all will fight and leave a surprise
The end shall come and all must wait and see.
Kubla Khan
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
