Doctor Who Poetry (Volume I)

Peace and Sanity (The Name of the Doctor)

Tonight's the night,

We find the answer.

Hidden in the stars,

And marked on our hearts,

Who is she?

And who is he?

I was born to save the Doctor.

Through time and space,

I was scattered.

I don't know where I am.

An impossible conference call

Brought me to him.

Playing Blind Man's Bluff,

Like a lost puppy.

I sat him down,

Told him the news.

His greatest secret,

Had been discovered.

Regretably and thourghly I should have known,

That my only grave stone,

Would be a tomb,

So dark and dank,

The TARDIS's own mirage.

But it is real,

So very true.

The one place,

A time traveler must never go;

To Trenzalore.

We fell below,

Down to the ground so cold,

To a battlefield scattered,

With bodies and bones, in their own mounds.

I could still hear her in my head,

Despite the fact Jenny was dead.

The bigger the grave stone,

The higher the rank.

That's the TARDIS,

The actual TARDIS,

It's dead and gone,

Like all the others.

The bigger on the inside,

Is leaking to the outside.

Making it the largest

Grave of them all.

Because what else would they bury me in?

River Song, your dead friend,

But I met her,

So maybe it's not a grave,

But a secret entrance to your tomb.

Because they'd never bury your wife out here.

Remember things that shouldn't be forgotten,

Died once, died twice, and now thrice.

Who am I really? Why am I impossible?

Clara, Clara, not now.

I'm late for my funeral, can't you see?

So ask me now, for my name:

Doctor who?

Stop their hearts,

As I beg you, oh please!

I didn't say your name,

But someone inside did.

Bodies are boring,

This is the trail of my tears,

Time creates scars,

And this is mine,

From Gallifrey, to Trenzalore.

I understand now,

Who I am.

What I was born to do.

I walk inside, his personal time line,

Stopping the Great Intelligence,

From turning every victory

To defeat.

So run, run you clever boy, and remember.

We are all restored,

But we are not.

Clara is still alive, inside my time line.

I see you now, my River, my sweetie.

I thought it would hurt to much, for me, not you.

And since no one else can see you,

God knows how that looked!

But know that I love you,

Even though you're an echo,

And one day we will meet again,

Over the matter of a name.

I bring to you something from your past,

Remember it well, for it may be your last!

The name is my secret,

And it will be revealed.

He is my secret,

I never said he was the Doctor.

One face unrecognized,

Shrouded in mystery.

The name of the Doctor,

For what he did, he did in the name of

Peace and sanity,

But not in the name,

Of the Doctor.

Introducing, if I may,

John Hurt,

As the Doctor...

A/N: Here is my tribute to the series 7 finale, The Name of the Doctor. That was a fantastic episode, and so much fun to write into a poem. I tried to alternate the view points between the stanzas of Clara and the Doctor, except with the last three stanzas. The third stanza from the end was another from the view point of the Doctor, and the last two are from a third person point of view and can be up to your consideration as to who it belongs too.

I'll be posting more poems soon, but if you have a request for a specific episode you'd like to see written as a poem, leave a comment below and I'll write it up!