Last night was the Summer Poetry Competition in the Shire. Here yer can read my entry to find out what goblins have ter do with Shire summers!
Miss Jadite hosts seasonal poetry competitions, and last night she arranged this year's summer competition at the Methel Stage. The possible topics for this competition were Balance, Family and Travelling/Journey. So I tried ter stick a little about them all into me own poem.
As fer entering, it was touch and go this time. I hadn't really had the time ter prepare one in advance, but found a spare moment in the afternoon before the competition started. So I have to admit I cut a few corners, borrowing some situations from my spring poem last year, including an involuntary visit into mud + a bathing tub.
Else, it is an attempt to think back to those lovely summers when yer were little, when every day was an adventure, yer imagination could run free, and them grown-ups mostly left yer alone until yer came home dirty, tired and happy. After a meal and a good night's sleep, yer were off again the next day!
The Great Goblin Battle
In early morn we started out Through sunlit fields of crystal dew And up ahead we heard a shout Beyond The Shire's tallest yew Me uncle, auntie, cousins there All greeting us with smiles and hugs Their table set with silverware The finest food, their grandest mugs
A visit to me closest kin A happy lazy summer day Until us children make a din It's hot, we're bored, we want ter play! So off we run into the field To seek adventure for the small Imagine all that is revealed When eager minds tell stories tall
Look out! That is no flock of sheep But hordes of wolves and goblins vile Who wants ter see us children weep Before them eat us with a smile Avast! Ahoy! We'll chase them off! These dried-up sticks are really swords We'll stand our ground and curse and scoff The Shire never saw such wards!
Our enemies are on the run We'll chase them all the way ter Bree But up ahead in setting sun Them run towards the tallest tree And as the goblins bray with fear Our victory them try ter spoil A wooden plank will bring them clear A ditch with muddy sticky soil
We have ter cross the runny chasm Ter win the battle fair and square So careful now, no lurch or spasm We cross the plank with utmost care But balance is a tricky thing When tired from a goblin brawl So suddenly I start ter swing And headfirst in the mud I fall
Them other children stop and jeer Them laugh at cries of loud dismay "Ter battle goblins with no fear" "Is this the Brockenborings way?" But from behind the flock of sheep Attacks with purpose strong and true So in the ditch them youngsters leap Their swearwords make the air turn blue
The shame! The woe! The battle lost! But even worse what waits ahead When every child is duly tossed Into the tub that brings us dread But when we go ter sleep at night We know that morning sets us free Another day ter join the fight Beneath the The Shire's tallest tree
More poems
Yer can read me other poems in me book of poetry