Yay fer spring! Yay fer spring poetry! Here is me entry to this year's spring poetry competition!
Tonight was the spring poetry competition, as usual hosted by miss Jadite! I pondered long and hard on whether I should send an entry this year, having been somewhat busy with other things than rhymes lately. Still, a few hours before the competition, I got that itch again. Yer know, the one that can just be bettered by putting feather pen to parchment!
So here yer go, a poem about what spring means to me. And if yer want to read them poems I have written before, yer can find them here!
The Perfect Spring Garden
Me neighbours all have tended lawns, with flowers in the spring But when I see their loving care, I feel a bitter sting Me garden is a barren plot, devoid of lush and life Except them weeds that grow so thick, they broke me shearing knifeA year ago, I saw the larks and swallows bring the sun I brought me shovels, hoes and picks, and when the day was done The weeds were gone, the lawn was flat, the beds were good to go Now flowers, taters, berries, peas would find a home ter grow
With rain and sleet and drizzling drops, the seeds began ter sprout The finest garden in the Shire, of that I had no doubt The harvest would be grand this year, the flowers rich and strong But nature soon resolved ter prove me dreams were naught but wrong
A lazy morn I woke to sounds of laughter from me yard A drove of shrews ran through me beds, they partied long and hard They dug the ground, they ate the veg, they wagged their icky tails They cheered upon a slimy pair of flower-eating snails
I tried ter chase the icky wicked creatures and their spawn But from above another foe descended on me lawn A flock of crows decided it was time ter stop to eat And sure enough, them found me home-grown berries fresh and sweet
The sun was shining bright and clear, but horrors it revealed What once had been me pride and joy, now looked a battlefield But scarier than cackling crows, than shrews exchanging hugs The fence gave way to hordes of large and hungry slugs and bugs
I called upon some bounders from the local cheerful inn They charged into me property with much ado and din But soon I found them digging through me lawn with gleeful roars Apparently me ground was full of rare and shiny ores
Between the shrews and bugs and slugs, my vegs were all but gone Me yard a maze of tunnels deep, where bounders worked 'til dawn And looking at it all, I couldn't help but feel bereft When sturdy bounder ponies ate the flowers that were left
When desperate the times may be, all efforts should be used I hope yer understand me acts, that I may be excused I called upon a band of rowdy hobbits from the south They came with looks of zestful zeal, with bagpipes in their mouth
Now did yer ever hear the sound of twenty pipes at once? The garden shook, the darkness fell, the shrews just had to bounce The crows lost all their feathers while the madness took the bugs And down the road, the bounders ran off crying with the slugs
Me neighbours all have tended yards, with flowers in the spring But no and nay and never more, I feel that bitter sting Me garden may be full of weeds, but that is grand for me What better place ter greet the spring, with lazy naps and tea?