It's a semi-epic piece. Only read if you have the time, it's a story set in rhyme.
There stood a wooden cabin low
Amongst the quiet, remote hills
Where the land and ice were filled
There lived a man with kindness lack
His name was Jeffery Black
Mr. Black loved his seclusion
He lived inside his own illusion
Pacing his foyer by day
His thoughts ran free without dismay
He never wants to take them back
That man whose name is Black
One cold winter, darkening night
A blizzard blew with frightening might
It turned to worst and tore it down
The cabin house all to the ground
A woodplank gave his head a wack
That poor old Jeffery Black
When he woke, his vision changed
His mind's perspective rearranged
The feet he wore began to talk
He rushed through woods, to beat a clock
The time he set to keep on track
That mean old Jeffery Black
Now with new deceitlful eyes
He crawled through rocks, and trees, and plies
To satisfy his venture crave
And found himself fortwidth a cave
A rock fell through and sound a crack
Descended Mr. Black
Before he took a nast trip
Jeffery Black reached for a grip
Found it on the cavern wall
Resumed his slowly awkward crawl
Reached the ground, no turning back
That daring Jeffery Black
Once he passed the hall of mold
He reached a chamber filled with gold
Forgot about his worldly cruels
Bagged a save of glittery jewels
Had his greed stuffed in a sack
That hungry Mr. Black
After hours, he found a lake
Jumped in and began to shake
He swam to find an exit graff
So he could make his leave and laugh
Pushed and squeezed in through a crack
Escaped he, Jeffery Black
His face was burried in wooden chips
Hair was covered in subtle drips
Each was cold as knives of steel
His situation was unreal
Took his things and headed back
The homeless Mr. Black
A while passed while he is hilled
Our friend avoids getting himself killed
Trips and falls (root) on his head
Chooses to lie there instead
Miles distance from the track
Lies there Mr. Black
Three weeks passed with out a word
A man with riches in the woods? Absurd
But there, a bag, and quite a loner
Lost its flimsy self from it's owner
Never to find it's way back
the Bag of Jeffery Black
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 416 times
Written on 2006-12-02 at 07:56
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His Name Was Jeffery Black (Semi-Epic)
Once, a many moon agoThere stood a wooden cabin low
Amongst the quiet, remote hills
Where the land and ice were filled
There lived a man with kindness lack
His name was Jeffery Black
Mr. Black loved his seclusion
He lived inside his own illusion
Pacing his foyer by day
His thoughts ran free without dismay
He never wants to take them back
That man whose name is Black
One cold winter, darkening night
A blizzard blew with frightening might
It turned to worst and tore it down
The cabin house all to the ground
A woodplank gave his head a wack
That poor old Jeffery Black
When he woke, his vision changed
His mind's perspective rearranged
The feet he wore began to talk
He rushed through woods, to beat a clock
The time he set to keep on track
That mean old Jeffery Black
Now with new deceitlful eyes
He crawled through rocks, and trees, and plies
To satisfy his venture crave
And found himself fortwidth a cave
A rock fell through and sound a crack
Descended Mr. Black
Before he took a nast trip
Jeffery Black reached for a grip
Found it on the cavern wall
Resumed his slowly awkward crawl
Reached the ground, no turning back
That daring Jeffery Black
Once he passed the hall of mold
He reached a chamber filled with gold
Forgot about his worldly cruels
Bagged a save of glittery jewels
Had his greed stuffed in a sack
That hungry Mr. Black
After hours, he found a lake
Jumped in and began to shake
He swam to find an exit graff
So he could make his leave and laugh
Pushed and squeezed in through a crack
Escaped he, Jeffery Black
His face was burried in wooden chips
Hair was covered in subtle drips
Each was cold as knives of steel
His situation was unreal
Took his things and headed back
The homeless Mr. Black
A while passed while he is hilled
Our friend avoids getting himself killed
Trips and falls (root) on his head
Chooses to lie there instead
Miles distance from the track
Lies there Mr. Black
Three weeks passed with out a word
A man with riches in the woods? Absurd
But there, a bag, and quite a loner
Lost its flimsy self from it's owner
Never to find it's way back
the Bag of Jeffery Black
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 416 times
Written on 2006-12-02 at 07:56
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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