Poems for PBK: Volume 4
Yes. MORE poems.
In case you don't know, these are poems for the Pocketbooks for Kids event going on until May. Please consider joining.
Well, I've written twenty-one of them so far, and I keep thinking of titles as well. I am fully in the spire….[[|:-D [[|:-D [[|:-D [[|:-D [[|:-D
Ahem, sorry. On with the poetry.
Go to Volume 1
Go back to Volume 3
The Primadonna Katana
The primadonna katana,
Was ironically named Donna,
A gift for The Drama Llama,
An attempt to quell the drama.
Yet, Donna had other ambitions,
Chock-full of selfish conditions,
She’ll prey on your inhibitions,
To attain more prestigious positions.
She only wants the best of the best,
To put their skills to the test,
And lay all the rumors to rest,
That she’s lazy and has no zest.
The Autographed Quarterstaff
The autographed quarterstaff,
Was discovered in a photograph,
Becoming signed on behalf,
Of The Riffraff Giraffe.
It’s long, gnarled, and twisted,
Hard wood of which it consisted,
Those that weild it have insisted,
That its power can’t be resisted.
It strikes with a thunderous boom,
Echoes in every single room.
Its victims are struck with gloom,
As it judges them to their doom.
Howard, the Coward
Howard, the Coward,
Will hide, slink, and cower,
Each minute of each hour,
Blind fear being his power.
He’s dealt with much strife,
In his fright-filled short life.
He has a nagging old wife,
Whose words cut like a knife.
He stammers, shakes, and sweats,
And won’t place any long bets.
He begs, pleads, and frets,
Even at the emptiest of threats.
The Necklace of Heckless
The Necklace of Heckless,
Makes one feel quite reckless,
Its detail is feckless,
This Necklace of Heckless.
Made from rainbow obsidian,
With gems along its meridian,
It was crafted by a Floridian,
Who goes by the name of Gideon.
It was crafted from ancient magic,
That’s wild and often is tragic,
A careless and mischievous gadget,
You might want to be safe and bag it.
The Horn Utopia Cornucopia
The Horn Utopia Cornucopia,
The lauded gift from Ethiopia,
Not for those with fructophobia,
T’would be the inverse of utopia.
It praises the music of wind,
Echoing the horn sounds within.
Those there claimed the conductor grinned,
As it cleansed all of those that had sinned.
It’s why it brings you inner peace,
Your drive to do good it will grease,
Your evilness will come to a cease,
So long as it's performed by a priest.
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Thank you so much for reading. Please like, comment, and share. I hope you have a wonderful day….[[|:-)