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
Yer can read me other poems in me book of poetry