Sunday, February 11, 2007

Amano-style Bumblebee



Sunday, February 04, 2007

Amano-style Red Alert




Saturday, February 03, 2007

Amano-style Wheeljack



Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Amano-style Sunstreaker


Monday, October 16, 2006

17. Hound

Hound was oure scoute, and no othere dutie
would have suited him betere. The beautie

of landes unchareted called loudely to him -
bluffes, cavernes, coves - to this pilgrimme

were treasure straunge and ynfinyte,
and he would mekely revelle in it.

Fortunatelie for us alle, Hound
was also an experte trakkere. The grounde

was a feeste of sygnes and byrning clues
to this nature-loving soldiere's nose.

And though he was, in spirite, a lonere,
his cheere was grete and stronge. Y'd soonere

have him by my side than a rabaille-rouser.
His hologramme gunne could quikkely douse a

valleye in decoyes, or hide our presense.
So yesse, he was invaluable, in essense.

Why, then, does my minde dwelle
on the onlie marke ygainste him? Welle,

I do not knowe. But I muste reporte
the trouthe. You see, Hound soughte

more than anie sane Autobot shoulde
to be mayde not of metalle but fleshe and bloode.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

16. Bumblebee

The evere personable Bumblebee
possessed greate fuele efficiencie,

and was at ease withine aquatikke
environmentes. Less erratikke

than mooste in oure encampemente
he was, none-the-lesse, a rampante

eavesdroppere. Being the leste large,
this made him suted to espyonage,

though he ytched to be of furthere use
and as he coulde run on little joose,

he was charged with erandes and odejobes
swyche as observing the saltie swabes

who were naytive to the planetes wich
the bataile sprede to, or to fetch

parts for repairs. He was often waylaid
by a sesione at the local arcade

or some straunge nearbie curiositie.
He did not seme to take warre seriouslie -

this the impresion that he gave, at leste,
to the grumblers and grypers who faysed

daelie drudgerie with far less zeste
than the sparkie spie. I do atteste,

howevere, that his grete gaitie
masked some sorte of insecuritie.

Monday, September 11, 2006

15. Gears

Oure reconnaysence bot was a stoute fellowe
whoos nayme was Gears. Lyke a cello

was his voyce, lowe and sonorousse.
He mooned of troubles manie, onerousse.

He coulde leap, using rockettes of winde,
a thousande feet, to surveye the lande.

Stronge as a grizzilie, he woode rarelie flag,
but complayned of paynes in arme or legge

that aire was eroding hym, watere rusting
his everie joint, and earthe encrusting

his pystons. But when any surgeyone
looked him over, they founde no burgeyon-

-ing of blakke decaye, nor clogging.
Scratched their chinnes. What coulde be dogging

this healthie Autobot so mucche?
He is firm of frayme, tyghte of clutch.

Gears woulde merely growle, "These quakkes
knowe nothing of the payne that rakkes

my bodie!" And with hede a-throb
would go on to compleat his job.