Poems 15+16

Rogue de rouge

 Nestled in the verdant valley,

that embraces a snarling sea,
a crumbling castle shadows glory
at the feet of the proud willow tree

There sat Mary deep in plums
sticky fingers and hands stained red
Truant from duty over many long suns
For great battles raged in her head

Until one afternoon, late in the summer,
when other girls were gathering grain
Mary sat high with her precious plunder
A passing monk creaked a raspy refrain

He stopped and he stared at our Mary,
Who had thought she was well out of sight
a sigh rattled his body so weary
as he called her name in a gasp of fright

From his bag he drew a sword,
a gleaming beam of steel and fire
“Are you willing, Mary, to board,
a quest though the stakes are dire?

“A terrible trio of demons arise,
in the east and devour all they see
a hero is needed, not strong nor wise
but as crafty and stealthy as can be.”

Mary slunk down the willow’s trunk
her eyes glued to the weapon of gold
“Can I have it?” She asked the monk
wanting the blade more than can be told

He handed the girl the weapon
And pointed to the hills in the east
“You’ll want to head toward heaven
keep  your presence known to the least.”

So Mary set off on her mission,
With nary but a sword to her name
(well, and some things that had gone ‘missin’
How else’d she keep  top of her game?

To Be Continued

Neverland

.'Avast', aghast 'on mast and sail!'

He shook the hook at crooks so pale
'We be at sea and free' he said
The man whose plan was Pan but dead

His eye was wry and sly and lone
One leg a peg, a keg of his own
For crumbs and rum the dumb would fight
Lost boys and toys of joy all night

A trip by ship would clip the isle
No mock could rock like 'crocodile'
His fear was clear, he'd steer afar
Barely less scary was a fairy in a jar

First blink you'd think that tink was weak
So tiny and shiny, whiney and meek
But her dust was a must for the lust to fly
For a while she'd guile a reptile to try.

Tick tock went the clock in a croc, but where?
Who'd snap a trap a-flap in the air?
The pirate was irate and did gyrate in search
Unseen was green who'd been high on his perch

The panic was manic 'Neath the satanic beast
Who bit as he flit and hit with tail and teeth
It was grand as a hand did land in his jaw
With a nip he did rip and the grip was no more

It was quick, that trick, though some'd pick neater
Can't be slow to stow a foe thought Peter
and friend, there I'll end this pretend of plight
Not far till next spar, second star on the right