Level Head (level_head) wrote in iambic_5meter,
Level Head
level_head
iambic_5meter

A tribute to Wall•E in Iambic Pentameter

The Beginning

Space is deep — the view is quite sublime
The stars, enough to take your breath away
But watching these majestic scenes, this time
Is something for whom “breathing” doesn’t pay...



The ship’s approach through galaxies and stars
All visible from crystal window views
Comes finally to Earth, with all its scars
For seven centuries there’s been no news

But if the ship could tune its sensors high
And pick up sounds so curious below
There’s music – which just begs the question “why?”
With lyrics, too, and this is how they go:

       “Out there, there’s a world outside of Yonkers…”

The Earth is near, the final path laid in
This time it’s North America below
The watcher, unimpressed, can now begin
Descending. Through the satellites we go

A blur, a blaze of speed, then atmosphere
It’s murky, brown, corrosive, near-opaque
Through smoky swirls the trash piles now appear
With stacks and towers, dreams that didn’t take

Let’s shift the view: where is that music from?
The towers seem uneven, and unclean.
How did they come about, and what’s that hum?
We now meet one incredible machine…

A view from high above … a scene in brown
With towers made by man, and some that weren't
A wash of sepia defines the town
With colors sere and textures raw and burnt

The music comes again. We see a spot
A moving speck, with trailing wake of dust
Another view, of buildings and of rot
We hear the music, then we see the rust

Machine treads passing by, the voices sing
An opened can, forlorn amidst debris
The can has moved, the top begins to swing
A cockroach, once contained, has wriggled free

It scurries in pursuit of passing tread
And finally the owner is revealed
A cube? And with binoculars for head?
We watch as trash is scraped within and sealed

The arms are clever blades as well as hands
They move, machine-like, yet propelled by thought
A rusty door, paint scraped away in bands
With “WALL•E” etched, the “E” within a dot

A crushing noise, hydraulics working loud
Soon finish up the task they were about
A cube is dumped, and carried as if proud
The robot’s off to add to his redoubt

We don’t see much, as yet. He adds the square
And he'd caught sight of something as he did
Adjacent, there’s an item buried there
He pulls it out: A smaller trashcan lid.

It obviously suits his careful gaze
He glances up as sun is sinking low
Apparently, this marks and ends his days
We see him tuck the lid inside to go

The music’s from a player on his front
He shuts it off and beckons to the roach
It crawls inside the robot, and the stunt
Brings laughter. Now the 'bot becomes a coach.

So off they go – and finally we see
Just how the tower stacks have come about
He’s high upon a “skyscraper-to-be”
A hundred more we see as we move out

Let’s look around. A store, a “Buy-n-Large”
With cars still parked, abandoned long ago
The lot is crossed by Wall•E and his charge
With money littered like a numbered snow

We’ve tripped a switch. A tune? A jingle blares
It’s Buy n Large, the signs spread far and wide
There’s no one left on Earth, it seems, who cares
The robot and the roach don’t slow their ride

With jouncing motions, Wall•E climbs a slope
And, at the top, he checks his insect friend
Then off they go. He seems so full of hope;
To us, it seems his path’s without an end

And certainly not smooth; they jounce along
The robot notes his passenger’s complaint
It’s clear his damaged treads are what is wrong
He scans a pile of rust and yellow paint

Ah! This is what he’s looking for. A bot
To all appearance, one just like himself
He checks, and yes, the treadwork this one’s got
Will work. Does he have more parts on a shelf?

Now smooth, the ride and rider move away
They pass a laser, tripping-on a sign
We see it come to life, and have its say
Though no one’s there to pay it any mind

A voice asks “Too much garbage in your face?”
And shows a world too layered-up with trash
He tells us that there’s room for us in space
And Wall•E’s caused another sign to flash

A turnstile triggers one last giant ad
This billboard dwarfs the ones along the way
A smiling man, in suit and tie he’s clad
Who tells us ships "are leaving every day"

We see the ships! So marvelous, so large!
The Axiom, the jewel of them all
The smiling man, who seems to be in charge
Continues with his cruise ship siren call

He talks along as visuals display
Of dining, sports, and Grandma’s hover chair
We want to get on board, and leave today!
The image flickers, gone – and nothing’s there

It’s clear we’ve missed the boat by many years
The launching berth sits rusting ‘cross the field
We still hear Wall•E’s motors and his gears
And see him drive: a rusted truck's revealed

Ah, this is home. He pulls a handle down
And watches as the door becomes a ramp
Then rolling up, he leaves the world that’s brown
To enter one of every colored lamp

And each switch that he throws astounds the eye
Another chain of marvels and of lights
The shelves of souvenirs are heaping high
Collections full of wonders and delights

We follow Wall•E into his domain
His private fortress of his solitude
He doffs the treads we just saw him obtain
So civilized, he leaves a world so crude

And heading deeper in, we hear him hum
We know this tune, it’s played for him all day
He opens dinner for his insect chum
The spongecake seems both “food” and “place to stay”

Still further in, we follow, hum along
A toaster? Yes, he pops it, and surprise!
A VCR tape. It will have his song
He’s got a screen device that magnifies

And soon we see the image for the song
The dancers sing Put On Your Sunday Clothes
He moves to shelves, and still he hums along
And opens up his cooler to expose

New trinkets for his home. Is that a spork?
A Rubik’s Cube, a lighter, other things
He can’t decide – like spoon? Or like a fork?
He splits the difference as his player sings

The Rubik’s Cube is tucked away with care
A lighter, upside down, soon follows suit
We know, somehow, a person’s living there
This robot, this “machine,” is rather cute

He’s off again, and heading past the screen
Arrested by a scene that now displays
They’re holding hands. His interest now is keen
He’s lonely! For so many countless days

He’s lived the life we’ve seen, he does his job
And stacks the towers. There is only he
He takes some parts, but there’s no heart to rob
And wonders, “Is there anyone for me?”

The human hands are touching, clasping tight
He’s fascinated, tries his own for size
His own hands aren’t the same, but still they might
Find someone out there, someday. Wall•E sighs…

===|==============/ Level Head
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  • 3 comments
And from this verse, I take it, my good friend,
that you would gladly watch this film again?
It's true, and though I'm loath to sound obsessed
I've written much in prose upon the work
I'm fond of it, and rank it with the best
The touching tale will on your heartstrings jerk.

The moniker you've used to self-adorn
Intrigues me. Hoping you won't think me silly
I'm picturing the narwhal'd unicorn
But on the body of a whisker'd billy.

===|=================/ Level Head
Your imagination's right on track.
(or, at the very least, it's very close)
an article I read, a score years' back,
Inspired me to pick this name I chose.

It claimed the fish-tailed goat did symbolize
the Soul's true evolutionary climb
from ocean depths toward cloud-tipped mountain heights
when goat would turn unicorn, in time.

I had an early January birth
and unicorns are favorites of mine, too.
So, when, one day, my loins I had to gird,
It seemed this moniker would serve me true.

And just a note (A nit-pick, in the end):
The goat immortilized in starry blue
was actually a "nanny," understand
rewarded for her nursing baby Zeus.