Poems for PBK: Volume 5

I'm starting to think that I'm channeling Shel Silverstein. I don’t really believe that, but it’s fun to pretend. It’s become a really fun challenge to rhyme each line of each stanza on top of telling a story in just three of them.

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Go back to Volume 4

The Crack-Back Backpack

The crack-back backpack,

Is not a sack to put on your back,

Made so heavy your back will crack,

Better that you use another pack.

It was crafted by Four-Ton Morton,

And even he says it’s no fun,

It holds so little and weighs a ton,

You should really set it down and run.

Morton did and doesn’t regret it,

He went on to simply forget it,

It’s true that it’s no fun; he said it,

You can find it in the discussion on Reddit.

The Snail-Trail Scalemail

The snail-trail scalemail, 

Is something weird that isn’t frail,

It’s solid armor that won’t fail,

But makes you leave a slimy trail.

The trail is made of stinky goo,

This cursed armor does eschew,

You better hope it won’t fit you,

This putrid steel that’s painted blue.

It still protects you from great harm,

Even if they strike your arm,

It’s thick and just might keep you warm,

But be prepared for the bug swarm.

The Hiding-Fruits Riding Boots

The hiding-fruits riding boots,

Have mischief and fun in their roots,

They pair well with snazzy zoot suits,

These long boots that like to hide fruits.

Though, putting them on will make you wince,

As your foot squishes into a quince,

Rotten and festering there long since,

It was placed there by an unruly prince.

It’s one of the things The Thing King dislikes,

They made his feet smell from all of his hikes,

It’s not often he gives up on things that he likes,

But now these boots can be seen hanging from spikes.

The Mountain Dwarf Fountain Wharf

The mountain dwarf fountain wharf,

Constructed by a mountain dwarf,

Its style proves that her plans were morphed,

This fountain-centered seaside wharf.

The docks are short and cleats are twisted,

“We ran out of finances,” she insisted,

The fountain malfunctions; the water’s misted,

It came out so bad that she’s been blacklisted.

It works just fine for swimming and fishing,

Its dwarf creator is brimming and wishing,

That the next time she will be missing,

Hearing each sailor’s insult and dissing.

The Sans Grace Vanbrace

The sans grace vanbrace,

Its mirrored look will shine your face,

But that’s so it can learn and trace,

The rhythm and the gait to your pace.

It’ll make you slip, wobble, and trip,

And will force you to lose your grip,

It shall not be considered drip,

Just take it off; that’s my tip.

It won’t even let you tie your shoe,

This Vanbrace that’s made of steel that’s blue,

Protecting you is the least it can do,

So long as it lets your aim be true.

The Be-Well Seashell

The be-well seashell,

A mysterious item I must tell,

Some can be found at Taco Bell,

And once you have one you won’t sell.

Unknown to the man of demolition,

I tell you this is a premonition,

That it takes care of your rear emission,

This I say without supposition.

I can’t go into too much detail,

You will not find them up for resale,

Your first time ‘round you’ll probably fail,

To use them to clean up under your tail.

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