R
Rando
Guest
Here is a poem I wrote one day at work while it was really, really slow and posted to MTGnews.com. It didn't get so much as a giggle over there.
So, as not to sit and rot unloved and unread, I thought I'd put it over here, even if the only thing that happens is that everyone makes fun of it.
I wrote it in all of ten minutes, so if all you do is make fun of it, I won't cry for too long.
The Ballad of the Blandigo
The sun was shineing bright
That day that Johnny died.
Despite the aid of friends
And kin that gathered by his side.
He launguished in his death-bed
And breathed his labored last.
But first he said "Be still
My friends, I'll tell you all that's passed.
Twas in my golden days of youth
That I traveled far and wide.
I've fought with orc and bear and drake
And I've skinned a dragon's hide.
I've flown with eagles high above
And crawled in caverns far bellow.
But no threat has ever froze my blood
As my meeting with the Blandigo!
The Blandigo's a beast of Hell
With mighty claws and teath to match.
It's skin is that of demon's blood,
It's fur a mess of rotton thatch.
I met the beast one lonely night
While I traveled roads best left unseen.
When I first laid eyes upon the horror
I scarce had time to yell or scream.
It lept from shadows in the dark,
And pierced me with it's hook-barbed claw.
It hauled me up into the air
And moved me towards it's slimey maw.
Think quick! I thought as I neared it's mouth,
The stench of which makes strong men wretch.
I dipped my hand into my pouch,
My only hope I sought to fetch.
I produced a flask and threw it thus
To land inside the beastie's gut.
It shatered there, one thousand shards,
And producing thus one thousand cuts.
The liquid from the flask did spill
And drip inside the monster's throat.
It droped me then and I landed hard
But I knew I had the creatures goat!
The Blandigo did pitch and roll
And swayed and stagered in an awkward dance.
It toppled over in the dirt,
Giving me my only chance.
I lept upon the beast and thus
Producing my father's father's sword
I hacked and cut and sawed and sliced
'Til I knew the fiend would breath no more.
I hauled the head back to my home
And hanged it above the mantle there.
I lit my pipe, put up my feet
And slept a while in my favorite chair.
I tell you this my beloved kin,
Both as warning and as advice,
That a flask of the strongest dwarven stout
Will either kill you or save your life!"
So, as not to sit and rot unloved and unread, I thought I'd put it over here, even if the only thing that happens is that everyone makes fun of it.
I wrote it in all of ten minutes, so if all you do is make fun of it, I won't cry for too long.
The Ballad of the Blandigo
The sun was shineing bright
That day that Johnny died.
Despite the aid of friends
And kin that gathered by his side.
He launguished in his death-bed
And breathed his labored last.
But first he said "Be still
My friends, I'll tell you all that's passed.
Twas in my golden days of youth
That I traveled far and wide.
I've fought with orc and bear and drake
And I've skinned a dragon's hide.
I've flown with eagles high above
And crawled in caverns far bellow.
But no threat has ever froze my blood
As my meeting with the Blandigo!
The Blandigo's a beast of Hell
With mighty claws and teath to match.
It's skin is that of demon's blood,
It's fur a mess of rotton thatch.
I met the beast one lonely night
While I traveled roads best left unseen.
When I first laid eyes upon the horror
I scarce had time to yell or scream.
It lept from shadows in the dark,
And pierced me with it's hook-barbed claw.
It hauled me up into the air
And moved me towards it's slimey maw.
Think quick! I thought as I neared it's mouth,
The stench of which makes strong men wretch.
I dipped my hand into my pouch,
My only hope I sought to fetch.
I produced a flask and threw it thus
To land inside the beastie's gut.
It shatered there, one thousand shards,
And producing thus one thousand cuts.
The liquid from the flask did spill
And drip inside the monster's throat.
It droped me then and I landed hard
But I knew I had the creatures goat!
The Blandigo did pitch and roll
And swayed and stagered in an awkward dance.
It toppled over in the dirt,
Giving me my only chance.
I lept upon the beast and thus
Producing my father's father's sword
I hacked and cut and sawed and sliced
'Til I knew the fiend would breath no more.
I hauled the head back to my home
And hanged it above the mantle there.
I lit my pipe, put up my feet
And slept a while in my favorite chair.
I tell you this my beloved kin,
Both as warning and as advice,
That a flask of the strongest dwarven stout
Will either kill you or save your life!"