Tuesday, March 29, 2005

The Mighty Deed

This is another of my attempts at poetry - written way back in 1990. It's very different from most everything else I've written, and some people even seem to think it's funny. Leave a comment below and tell me if you like it.
--- Glenn G. Thater

by Glenn G. Thater , 1990.

They say that in the past month
Eight citizens of Dyvers town were ripped asunder
By a horrid monster who wailed like thunder.

The first victim the town Doctor - old Jim Drake,
Found floating headless in a nearby lake.

The second little David Toth,
His arms and legs all ripped off.

Next was Wally the homeless beggar,
Found dead in the road by Boyd the mayor.

Five others were killed by the degenerate vile creature,
Including Kacser the mad old magic teacher.

No one lived who'd seen the evil creature,
Except for Reverend Bog the township’s preacher.

He spied the monster from the church’s tower
The night it killed old Mr. Fowler.

But since that fateful eerie night
The Reverend hasn't overcome his fright.

He’s not able to recall the terrible tale,
He can only remember the monstrous wail.

The townsfolk knew something must be done
To make these killings cease,
Somehow someone must restore the peace.

So a council meeting was called by the township’s mayor,
There they decided to hire a monster slayer.

It must be a knight of fame and renown,
Only one such as this could save the town.

So the call for aid went out far and wide,
And soon appeared a knight who’d take the township’s side.

He rode into town one morning bright,
All came out to see the wondrous sight
Of the world’s most feared and famous knight.

Announcing before him ran the town crier,
Everyone he passed bowed and called him sire.

The knight’s blue-enameled armor glistened in the morning sun,
It must have weighed as least a ton.

Around his waste hung a sword and sheath
The size of which was beyond belief.

‘Twas a broadsword of six feet in length,
What human man could possess such strength

To wield a sword the likes of which
A frost giant could not lift an inch.

But the man was huge - perhaps seven feet in height,
Truly a great and powerful knight.

At his side hung a huge silver shield,
This too into battle he would wield.

In his left hand he held a mighty silver lance,
Its magical dweomer could be seen at a glance.

As for his steed,
There was none better,
His saddle made of the finest leather,
And atop his war helm a large blue feather.

As he rode by the crowds let out a thunderous cheer
For the proud and noble Cavalier.

For in all the land there was no man greater,
Than the knight they called Lord Angle Theta.

If the above excerpt from the poem "The Mighty Deed" has caught your attention and you'd like to read more - please click on the comment button below and let me know. I'm considering including the full version of this poem in an upcoming collection of my stories that will be available for purchase from Amazon.com