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ORIGINAL: thercracingdude

I will give it a try, but that poem is pretty funny and ironic at the same time!

First lap written by TheRcRacingDude:

Take off into turn one, one by one the warriors raid the berm.
Turn, two, blew my clutch shoe, and some glue off the rim.
Three over the tripple, flying with ease, a slight breeze at my back.
Four, floor it, pour it on, the annoucer is calling my name, im nearly number one.
Five, its turn five already, and I am ready to go into the chicane, insane SPEED!
Six, pick it up, inside, outside, diving and dipping, looking for the move, nearly there.
Seven, turn seven seems like a slice of dreamland; heaven, my heart is pouding my chest.
Eight, the straight-ahh way, one eighty down and into the fourty five bend, can I make it? You bet...
Nine, my line is in line with the fastest times of the day, a day, Sunday, the day known as FUN DAY, Monday never comes...
TEN, one more turn, then we do it again, for this lap is in the books...

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ORIGINAL: Bipe Flyer

Here's my Christmas poem.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hangar
Not an engine was running, not even a four banger;
All the windsocks were hung by the workbench with care,
In the hopes that new model parts soon would be there;

The modellers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of aircraft did loops in their heads;
And my wife dreaming quietly of new gardening things;
I laid there hoping for gifts that had wings.

When out on the lawn there arose such a noise,
Louder than the engines in my RC toys;
Away to the window I flew like a jet,
I couldn't run faster, not on a bet.

The house lights shining on the new fallen snow,
Made it look like a flyby, o'er the objects below;
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a miniature aircraft. Had I drunk too much beer?

It dashed and it danced and it pranced like a star,
Better than my planes, yes better by far;
Over the porch. then over the wall;
The plane kept on climbing. It just wouldn't stall.

I was amazed how it swept and flew through the sky,
That was a plane that I wanted to fly;
Up to the rooftop the airplane it flew,
Someone is flying it, someone, but who?

And then with a buzzing I heard on the roof,
Who could it be? I need some proof.
As I turned away from the window ledge,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with an Edge.

My eyes. how they bugged out! The plane was so sporty,
I could hardly believe he brought an Edge 540.
On the tail of the plane there was tied a big bow,
With everything installed it was ready to go.

He spoke not a word and went straight to his work,
I stood there drooling, and felt like a jerk;
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his airplane, and to me gave a laugh,
"You can fly it tomorrow just don't crash the aircraft",
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND CHARGE IT BEFORE FLIGHT!"

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ORIGINAL: Bipe Flyer

A good thread never dies, it just lies dormant for a while.

OK, here's another poem of mine. Done after Poe's "The Raven".

Build Some More

Once upon a midnight dreary, building planes with eyesight bleary,
Over paint and dope and glue having fallen on the floor,
While I modelled, nearly covering, there came a presence near me hovering,
As if someone menacingly watching me from the door.
"'Tis my wife," I muttered as I headed to the door.
Tomorrow night I'll build some more.


Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak November,
And each and every club member came to fly their planes no more.
Eagerly I wished the morrow, but it too was met with sorrow,
I wished I could simply borrow, weather from the months before.
Yes the bright and radiant sun, which had brought such warmth before.
I guess I'll just build some more.


One morning sulken, sad, uncertain I hopefully drew back the curtain,
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic hope never felt before;
So that now, I stopped my pining, the sun stood brightly shining,
I grabbed the plane I was designing, and headed out the front door,
The car engine started whining, even as I closed the door.
I'm glad I have to build no more.


Presently my joy grew stronger, the field was empty no longer,
People had come from miles around, their planes taken out of store,
I was so proud of my covering, some show off was out there hovering,
And soon there was a pleasant sound, sound that I had heard before.
I was beaming, glow engine screaming as it had done some months before.
'Tis my turn to fly some more.


While turning the plane and steering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
Dreading, wondering thoughts many modellers had thought before;
Had I put my plane on charge, I haven't flown this one since March,
And then it happened, I lost control, it never happened to me before,
I was too eager, my charge too meagre, never plugged it in the night before.
It hit the ground and was no more.


Back to the car I was turning, all my soul within me burning,
If only I had pondered what the day might have in store,
"Surely," I said, "surely, there is something left of my airplane."
I pick up the mangled airframe, got in the car and closed the door.
My heart hung low then lifted, I could go to the hobby store.
I'll just go home and build some more.