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Oh dear, here it is. An epic poem, of sorts, with a couple of sad attempts to be humourous (that is the point of it). I only started yesterday, and it's 1st draft, so don't be too hard on me.
First of all...Transport yourself back trhough time, along the foggy passageways of history, to just before the 1st millenium. You're in a Scandinavian mead hall, and it's the annual ceremonial feast. The food has arrived, and the Clan Elder is just about to recite the epic passed on through generations. The famed and revered 'Skuewergolan'...
The Skuewergolan
Gather round me clansmen, guests and friends of ages past, gather round, quaff our fine mead, seize yourself a comely wench and tear another hunk off the ceremonial boar! I will tell ye once again the tale told by my forefathers, and theirs before them, that great and terrible tale of adventure, valour and craven cowardice, the Skuewergolan, the saga of Dave Goblin!
PROLOGUE
Upon a time, upon a day
Upon an hour, so they say,
A battle once took place,
Between the men and Glags and Prongs,
O’er the sacred mace.
The morning star, the shining jewel,
The staff of Imrah, Prince of Day.
Unmaker of the vain and cruel,
The power to keep death at bay.
The battle ragéd by a ford,
Blood was spilled, and kills were scored,
Deadly wounds were oft ignored
And last requests they were implored.
The race of men, amidst the pain,
did seize the Mace of power.
But Dragon-born, Arkan the Thane
Did o’er the battle tower.
He flew from mountains far away,
From morn to night all through the day
Then came upon the battle ground
‘Pon which the dead lay mound on mound.
He joined the battle, fought with might
This holy war, this vicious fight.
The noble men were filled with fear,
And crippled by his hateful leer.
They lay down, whimpered, begged for life
His claws as blades, his tail a knife.
The Mace was taken from men’s hands
Then Arkan rose, o’er the lands
He breathed his flames upon the field
Whole armies, races, forced to yield.
And Arkan fled to mountain lair
Then races cried out with despair
‘The Mace is gone, the light is dimmed’
And faces paled, stomachs skimmed.
‘Twas lost for age ‘pon age until,
By fortune, it is told,
There came a Goblin, fair and bold
Of gibber, craft and skill.
NOT PROLOGUE
Dave Goblin, on this fateful night,
Was dand’ring through a murky cave
His nose askew, his eyes green-bright,
Looking here for loot like cash,
like axes, swords and shiny things
That glitter sparkling white.
Jewell’ry, bracelets, diamond rings
And none escape his sight.
His darkly dance lead him astray,
Beneath that roof and walls of clay.
For Arkan Lurkéd in the deep,
Lost in long and fitful sleep.
Within his chasm, upon his mound
Of +5 greatswords was he found
By Goblin Dave, and misconstrued
To be a statue, carvings crude.
As Dave he tripped about this hall,
Blades and bracelets ,coins and all
With gibbling and cackling
Dave in his sack was stackl-ing.
The Axe of Eating, Blade of Might,
Cloak of Compaction, Ring of fight,
Belt of Angst, Hood of Hobnobs,
Garters of Glibness and Magical Globs
Mintelkopf’s spentandulous,
Orchestrator of Pentandulous
Homicide was discovered there.
Others, to mention will I not dare.
And so our fingering thief
Removed it all, but then… bon appetif!
The Dragon struck, it’s roar resounded
And Dave across the cavern bounded
With considerable velocity,
Given ‘Kan’s ferocity.
And Dave he would have died that day
Had not he eaten, for to say,
The amulet of maidens, blessed by Elven queen
While searching through the horde, his appetite to glean.
The blessings of the Elven gods
Misguided, stupid, foolish sods,
Saved our Davey goblin’s life,
and no Elf Lord, in lands of strife.
The fighters squared as best they could
(not well, for Dave’s brain was made of wood)
And knew he not a square.
For education, did he not dare.
And Dave he ran and bounced and squeaked
While Dragon, furied, Havoc wreaked.
And Dave was bouncing off the walls
Slo-motion, as I’ve heard it called.
And right then it was bullet time
And hands were standed, summers assaulted
That Dave by Neo couldn’t be faulted
And this bit doesn’t really rhyme.
Arkan lunged, and Dave he dodged
And claw in flagstone, became lodged
While Dave he gibbered merrily
The Dragon Roared in agony.
Then Dave he struck with Wrath and Rage
Through the hollows, ‘tween the scaley lips, with sage-
-like wisom leapt our Dave.
The Dragon stalled
As organs were mauled.
Within the beast with sheen of light
He found the mace, ‘twas lost in plight
And gripped it in his palm.
He huddled tight and pondered long
Within Saliva’s balm,
And often burst he into song.
It seemed to him he had two ways
Of living on for days and days.
To live in peace and love, no war
‘Cos what do we need fighting for?
Or fight his way for life and limb
A prospect most certainly dim.
After all, insides were soft and tasty
To eat, no need to be hasty.
To fight with mace, from stomach wall
Was where he knew h’was bound to fall.
EPILOGUE
When Dragon died came he as well
To it’s obscure, unsightly hell.
And there they battle with vexation,
To eat it’s flesh his one fixation.
The Gods and ghosts look on with awe
As each one hammers at Creations door.
For ‘pon Earth, our world, will soon take place.
This battle ‘tween the Goblin race
And dragons, as from hells the come,
Dave and Arkan, through infinitum.
The one lodged in the other’s tum.
First of all...Transport yourself back trhough time, along the foggy passageways of history, to just before the 1st millenium. You're in a Scandinavian mead hall, and it's the annual ceremonial feast. The food has arrived, and the Clan Elder is just about to recite the epic passed on through generations. The famed and revered 'Skuewergolan'...
The Skuewergolan
Gather round me clansmen, guests and friends of ages past, gather round, quaff our fine mead, seize yourself a comely wench and tear another hunk off the ceremonial boar! I will tell ye once again the tale told by my forefathers, and theirs before them, that great and terrible tale of adventure, valour and craven cowardice, the Skuewergolan, the saga of Dave Goblin!
PROLOGUE
Upon a time, upon a day
Upon an hour, so they say,
A battle once took place,
Between the men and Glags and Prongs,
O’er the sacred mace.
The morning star, the shining jewel,
The staff of Imrah, Prince of Day.
Unmaker of the vain and cruel,
The power to keep death at bay.
The battle ragéd by a ford,
Blood was spilled, and kills were scored,
Deadly wounds were oft ignored
And last requests they were implored.
The race of men, amidst the pain,
did seize the Mace of power.
But Dragon-born, Arkan the Thane
Did o’er the battle tower.
He flew from mountains far away,
From morn to night all through the day
Then came upon the battle ground
‘Pon which the dead lay mound on mound.
He joined the battle, fought with might
This holy war, this vicious fight.
The noble men were filled with fear,
And crippled by his hateful leer.
They lay down, whimpered, begged for life
His claws as blades, his tail a knife.
The Mace was taken from men’s hands
Then Arkan rose, o’er the lands
He breathed his flames upon the field
Whole armies, races, forced to yield.
And Arkan fled to mountain lair
Then races cried out with despair
‘The Mace is gone, the light is dimmed’
And faces paled, stomachs skimmed.
‘Twas lost for age ‘pon age until,
By fortune, it is told,
There came a Goblin, fair and bold
Of gibber, craft and skill.
NOT PROLOGUE
Dave Goblin, on this fateful night,
Was dand’ring through a murky cave
His nose askew, his eyes green-bright,
Looking here for loot like cash,
like axes, swords and shiny things
That glitter sparkling white.
Jewell’ry, bracelets, diamond rings
And none escape his sight.
His darkly dance lead him astray,
Beneath that roof and walls of clay.
For Arkan Lurkéd in the deep,
Lost in long and fitful sleep.
Within his chasm, upon his mound
Of +5 greatswords was he found
By Goblin Dave, and misconstrued
To be a statue, carvings crude.
As Dave he tripped about this hall,
Blades and bracelets ,coins and all
With gibbling and cackling
Dave in his sack was stackl-ing.
The Axe of Eating, Blade of Might,
Cloak of Compaction, Ring of fight,
Belt of Angst, Hood of Hobnobs,
Garters of Glibness and Magical Globs
Mintelkopf’s spentandulous,
Orchestrator of Pentandulous
Homicide was discovered there.
Others, to mention will I not dare.
And so our fingering thief
Removed it all, but then… bon appetif!
The Dragon struck, it’s roar resounded
And Dave across the cavern bounded
With considerable velocity,
Given ‘Kan’s ferocity.
And Dave he would have died that day
Had not he eaten, for to say,
The amulet of maidens, blessed by Elven queen
While searching through the horde, his appetite to glean.
The blessings of the Elven gods
Misguided, stupid, foolish sods,
Saved our Davey goblin’s life,
and no Elf Lord, in lands of strife.
The fighters squared as best they could
(not well, for Dave’s brain was made of wood)
And knew he not a square.
For education, did he not dare.
And Dave he ran and bounced and squeaked
While Dragon, furied, Havoc wreaked.
And Dave was bouncing off the walls
Slo-motion, as I’ve heard it called.
And right then it was bullet time
And hands were standed, summers assaulted
That Dave by Neo couldn’t be faulted
And this bit doesn’t really rhyme.
Arkan lunged, and Dave he dodged
And claw in flagstone, became lodged
While Dave he gibbered merrily
The Dragon Roared in agony.
Then Dave he struck with Wrath and Rage
Through the hollows, ‘tween the scaley lips, with sage-
-like wisom leapt our Dave.
The Dragon stalled
As organs were mauled.
Within the beast with sheen of light
He found the mace, ‘twas lost in plight
And gripped it in his palm.
He huddled tight and pondered long
Within Saliva’s balm,
And often burst he into song.
It seemed to him he had two ways
Of living on for days and days.
To live in peace and love, no war
‘Cos what do we need fighting for?
Or fight his way for life and limb
A prospect most certainly dim.
After all, insides were soft and tasty
To eat, no need to be hasty.
To fight with mace, from stomach wall
Was where he knew h’was bound to fall.
EPILOGUE
When Dragon died came he as well
To it’s obscure, unsightly hell.
And there they battle with vexation,
To eat it’s flesh his one fixation.
The Gods and ghosts look on with awe
As each one hammers at Creations door.
For ‘pon Earth, our world, will soon take place.
This battle ‘tween the Goblin race
And dragons, as from hells the come,
Dave and Arkan, through infinitum.
The one lodged in the other’s tum.
Eek! I feel a bit of a pratt now. I've only just posted that I do not have a particular fondness for poems but I read this because it was an entry. I have to say that overall I though it was pretty good.
And it had a dragon in it - good for you!
Take out the bullet time paragraph when you come to neaten it up though. It spoils it somewhat, especially as after travelling backwards through time to listen to the bard :)
And it had a dragon in it - good for you!
Take out the bullet time paragraph when you come to neaten it up though. It spoils it somewhat, especially as after travelling backwards through time to listen to the bard :)
Thankin' you muchly. It looks a lot better in the light of day, but the rough edges show in places.
As far as poems go ... most excellent. A few duff lines, but 99% good and grand.
Oh dear, here it is. An epic poem, of sorts, with a couple of sad attempts to be humourous (that is the point of it). I only started yesterday, and it's 1st draft, so don't be too hard on me.
First of all...Transport yourself back trhough time, along the foggy passageways of history, to just before the 1st millenium. You're in a Scandinavian mead hall, and it's the annual ceremonial feast. The food has arrived, and the Clan Elder is just about to recite the epic passed on through generations. The famed and revered 'Skuewergolan'...
The Skuewergolan
Gather round me clansmen, guests and friends of ages past, gather round, quaff our fine mead, seize yourself a comely wench and tear another hunk off the ceremonial boar! I will tell ye once again the tale told by my forefathers, and theirs before them, that great and terrible tale of adventure, valour and craven cowardice, the Skuewergolan, the saga of Dave Goblin!
PROLOGUE
Upon a time, upon a day
Upon an hour, so they say,
A battle once took place,
Between the men and Glags and Prongs,
O’er the sacred mace.
The morning star, the shining jewel,
The staff of Imrah, Prince of Day.
Unmaker of the vain and cruel,
The power to keep death at bay.
The battle ragéd by a ford,
Blood was spilled, and kills were scored,
Deadly wounds were oft ignored
And last requests they were implored.
The race of men, amidst the pain,
did seize the Mace of power.
But Dragon-born, Arkan the Thane
Did o’er the battle tower.
He flew from mountains far away,
From morn to night all through the day
Then came upon the battle ground
‘Pon which the dead lay mound on mound.
He joined the battle, fought with might
This holy war, this vicious fight.
The noble men were filled with fear,
And crippled by his hateful leer.
They lay down, whimpered, begged for life
His claws as blades, his tail a knife.
The Mace was taken from men’s hands
Then Arkan rose, o’er the lands
He breathed his flames upon the field
Whole armies, races, forced to yield.
And Arkan fled to mountain lair
Then races cried out with despair
‘The Mace is gone, the light is dimmed’
And faces paled, stomachs skimmed.
‘Twas lost for age ‘pon age until,
By fortune, it is told,
There came a Goblin, fair and bold
Of gibber, craft and skill.
NOT PROLOGUE
Dave Goblin, on this fateful night,
Was dand’ring through a murky cave
His nose askew, his eyes green-bright,
Looking here for loot like cash,
like axes, swords and shiny things
That glitter sparkling white.
Jewell’ry, bracelets, diamond rings
And none escape his sight.
His darkly dance lead him astray,
Beneath that roof and walls of clay.
For Arkan Lurkéd in the deep,
Lost in long and fitful sleep.
Within his chasm, upon his mound
Of +5 greatswords was he found
By Goblin Dave, and misconstrued
To be a statue, carvings crude.
As Dave he tripped about this hall,
Blades and bracelets ,coins and all
With gibbling and cackling
Dave in his sack was stackl-ing.
The Axe of Eating, Blade of Might,
Cloak of Compaction, Ring of fight,
Belt of Angst, Hood of Hobnobs,
Garters of Glibness and Magical Globs
Mintelkopf’s spentandulous,
Orchestrator of Pentandulous
Homicide was discovered there.
Others, to mention will I not dare.
And so our fingering thief
Removed it all, but then… bon appetif!
The Dragon struck, it’s roar resounded
And Dave across the cavern bounded
With considerable velocity,
Given ‘Kan’s ferocity.
And Dave he would have died that day
Had not he eaten, for to say,
The amulet of maidens, blessed by Elven queen
While searching through the horde, his appetite to glean.
The blessings of the Elven gods
Misguided, stupid, foolish sods,
Saved our Davey goblin’s life,
and no Elf Lord, in lands of strife.
The fighters squared as best they could
(not well, for Dave’s brain was made of wood)
And knew he not a square.
For education, did he not dare.
And Dave he ran and bounced and squeaked
While Dragon, furied, Havoc wreaked.
And Dave was bouncing off the walls
Slo-motion, as I’ve heard it called.
And right then it was bullet time
And hands were standed, summers assaulted
That Dave by Neo couldn’t be faulted
And this bit doesn’t really rhyme.
Arkan lunged, and Dave he dodged
And claw in flagstone, became lodged
While Dave he gibbered merrily
The Dragon Roared in agony.
Then Dave he struck with Wrath and Rage
Through the hollows, ‘tween the scaley lips, with sage-
-like wisom leapt our Dave.
The Dragon stalled
As organs were mauled.
Within the beast with sheen of light
He found the mace, ‘twas lost in plight
And gripped it in his palm.
He huddled tight and pondered long
Within Saliva’s balm,
And often burst he into song.
It seemed to him he had two ways
Of living on for days and days.
To live in peace and love, no war
‘Cos what do we need fighting for?
Or fight his way for life and limb
A prospect most certainly dim.
After all, insides were soft and tasty
To eat, no need to be hasty.
To fight with mace, from stomach wall
Was where he knew h’was bound to fall.
EPILOGUE
When Dragon died came he as well
To it’s obscure, unsightly hell.
And there they battle with vexation,
To eat it’s flesh his one fixation.
The Gods and ghosts look on with awe
As each one hammers at Creations door.
For ‘pon Earth, our world, will soon take place.
This battle ‘tween the Goblin race
And dragons, as from hells the come,
Dave and Arkan, through infinitum.
The one lodged in the other’s tum.
First of all...Transport yourself back trhough time, along the foggy passageways of history, to just before the 1st millenium. You're in a Scandinavian mead hall, and it's the annual ceremonial feast. The food has arrived, and the Clan Elder is just about to recite the epic passed on through generations. The famed and revered 'Skuewergolan'...
The Skuewergolan
Gather round me clansmen, guests and friends of ages past, gather round, quaff our fine mead, seize yourself a comely wench and tear another hunk off the ceremonial boar! I will tell ye once again the tale told by my forefathers, and theirs before them, that great and terrible tale of adventure, valour and craven cowardice, the Skuewergolan, the saga of Dave Goblin!
PROLOGUE
Upon a time, upon a day
Upon an hour, so they say,
A battle once took place,
Between the men and Glags and Prongs,
O’er the sacred mace.
The morning star, the shining jewel,
The staff of Imrah, Prince of Day.
Unmaker of the vain and cruel,
The power to keep death at bay.
The battle ragéd by a ford,
Blood was spilled, and kills were scored,
Deadly wounds were oft ignored
And last requests they were implored.
The race of men, amidst the pain,
did seize the Mace of power.
But Dragon-born, Arkan the Thane
Did o’er the battle tower.
He flew from mountains far away,
From morn to night all through the day
Then came upon the battle ground
‘Pon which the dead lay mound on mound.
He joined the battle, fought with might
This holy war, this vicious fight.
The noble men were filled with fear,
And crippled by his hateful leer.
They lay down, whimpered, begged for life
His claws as blades, his tail a knife.
The Mace was taken from men’s hands
Then Arkan rose, o’er the lands
He breathed his flames upon the field
Whole armies, races, forced to yield.
And Arkan fled to mountain lair
Then races cried out with despair
‘The Mace is gone, the light is dimmed’
And faces paled, stomachs skimmed.
‘Twas lost for age ‘pon age until,
By fortune, it is told,
There came a Goblin, fair and bold
Of gibber, craft and skill.
NOT PROLOGUE
Dave Goblin, on this fateful night,
Was dand’ring through a murky cave
His nose askew, his eyes green-bright,
Looking here for loot like cash,
like axes, swords and shiny things
That glitter sparkling white.
Jewell’ry, bracelets, diamond rings
And none escape his sight.
His darkly dance lead him astray,
Beneath that roof and walls of clay.
For Arkan Lurkéd in the deep,
Lost in long and fitful sleep.
Within his chasm, upon his mound
Of +5 greatswords was he found
By Goblin Dave, and misconstrued
To be a statue, carvings crude.
As Dave he tripped about this hall,
Blades and bracelets ,coins and all
With gibbling and cackling
Dave in his sack was stackl-ing.
The Axe of Eating, Blade of Might,
Cloak of Compaction, Ring of fight,
Belt of Angst, Hood of Hobnobs,
Garters of Glibness and Magical Globs
Mintelkopf’s spentandulous,
Orchestrator of Pentandulous
Homicide was discovered there.
Others, to mention will I not dare.
And so our fingering thief
Removed it all, but then… bon appetif!
The Dragon struck, it’s roar resounded
And Dave across the cavern bounded
With considerable velocity,
Given ‘Kan’s ferocity.
And Dave he would have died that day
Had not he eaten, for to say,
The amulet of maidens, blessed by Elven queen
While searching through the horde, his appetite to glean.
The blessings of the Elven gods
Misguided, stupid, foolish sods,
Saved our Davey goblin’s life,
and no Elf Lord, in lands of strife.
The fighters squared as best they could
(not well, for Dave’s brain was made of wood)
And knew he not a square.
For education, did he not dare.
And Dave he ran and bounced and squeaked
While Dragon, furied, Havoc wreaked.
And Dave was bouncing off the walls
Slo-motion, as I’ve heard it called.
And right then it was bullet time
And hands were standed, summers assaulted
That Dave by Neo couldn’t be faulted
And this bit doesn’t really rhyme.
Arkan lunged, and Dave he dodged
And claw in flagstone, became lodged
While Dave he gibbered merrily
The Dragon Roared in agony.
Then Dave he struck with Wrath and Rage
Through the hollows, ‘tween the scaley lips, with sage-
-like wisom leapt our Dave.
The Dragon stalled
As organs were mauled.
Within the beast with sheen of light
He found the mace, ‘twas lost in plight
And gripped it in his palm.
He huddled tight and pondered long
Within Saliva’s balm,
And often burst he into song.
It seemed to him he had two ways
Of living on for days and days.
To live in peace and love, no war
‘Cos what do we need fighting for?
Or fight his way for life and limb
A prospect most certainly dim.
After all, insides were soft and tasty
To eat, no need to be hasty.
To fight with mace, from stomach wall
Was where he knew h’was bound to fall.
EPILOGUE
When Dragon died came he as well
To it’s obscure, unsightly hell.
And there they battle with vexation,
To eat it’s flesh his one fixation.
The Gods and ghosts look on with awe
As each one hammers at Creations door.
For ‘pon Earth, our world, will soon take place.
This battle ‘tween the Goblin race
And dragons, as from hells the come,
Dave and Arkan, through infinitum.
The one lodged in the other’s tum.