Hello again! It's been nearly three months...sorry. I have here for your reading pleasure ANOTHER POEM! Slightly different style than the last, not sure what it's called.
Enjoy!
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Once up on a time
In the land without a rhyme
Mirkwood, a place by name
Which by day seemed fairly tame
Its prince was walking, close to night
Taking heed, and taking fright
Lost, it seems without a hope
Nor facial cream, nor bar of soap
His hair was messed, which only proved
That he was frantic, the only clue.
His elven face was still placid
Only his jawbone hung there flaccid
Skittering leaves at his feet theron
Served to startle Thranduil's son
Running faster to put behind
The noises that were on his mind
Spiders noting movement there,
Attracted by his shining hair.
Moving now through leaféd bough
They jumped and knocked the princeling down
Wrapped in silver cobwebs strung
Reflecting no light, moon or sun
Hanging wrongways elf sees now
Two fair siblings in a row
Attracted he their stares so shocked
But stared they instead at hole-y socks
Foot-tubes silken, wove with care
From mountain sheep's wooly hair
"What goes on here," said elder brother
"I do not know!" exclaimed the other.
So crept they close to deadly tree
But spider movement prompted flee
Arachnids then upon themselves
Took the fate of those three elves.
Night upon the forest fell
Upon the scene that I now tell
A feast surpassed by none before
The trees besplattered, blood and gore
They dined upon his cultured flesh
And blooded wine, declared "Da beshh!"
Morning dawned so fair and cold
O'er mountains high and caverns old
Three skulls strewn in callous glee
Beneath the base of one lone tree
Spider army tramp towards
The elven halls to dine on lords
The feast last night, so tender, sweet
Speed on now the eight-fold feet
No contest there, they enter on
And home-like webs are wove and spun
No elf is safe from grey threads sticky,
All of their ends are gross and icky.
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Thanks for reading!
