The dawn of each season brings ideas galore
Some which survive, others shown the door,
Like that time travel story, or the love romp not done,
Or the Dark Daniel arc trimmed from six tales to one.
We begin each new year with the best of intentions,
Seeking to craft our inspired inventions.
But conditions are altered, storylines change,
From the original notion so far may they range.
So as we look forward to two thousand and seven,
I can’t help but think it would truly be heaven,
To see the ideas pitched out, some produced,
Make it as finals, not crossed out or reduced.
Atlantis assailed by the stuff of nightmares,
While the team will explore that dark sunken lair.
For one player worship, adoration and fame,
As he and his rival find it’s more than a game.
Receive a grand gift from an all-seeing shaman.
Find the wraith and our allies have something in common.
A tech-savvy group who progress via pillage.
A wild west High Noon in an inapt Dutch village.
Too late the value of that friendship he’ll learn.
A strange disappearance feeds another’s dark turn.
Find survivors concealed in an orbiting rock,
While the thinker receives an enlightening shock.
Mutations discovered, O’Neill is all wet.
With a change of location all will forget.
Hyperion’s wrath threatens total destruction.
Our hand will be forced by ominous construction.
Carter arrives; a reunion of sorts.
One of our own the enemy courts.
Isolation imposed and a grand battle looms,
While an alien contact this player dooms.
Self-doubt for one, parenthood for another,
And that brilliant young mom may be needing her brother.
From innocents lost he’ll produce strict adherence
While the late fallen one makes a surprised reappearance
Scheduling conflicts, production demands,
Changes necessitate all won’t go as planned.
But let’s hope these ideas do well find their way,
And all see the light of a t.v. one day.