The Old Beast of Plum

There was once a Beast of no season,

His obsession with plums was the reason,

Care not for he, who dabble most grim,

His Brothers wore but a smile; so thin,

And left him for naught but his treason.

 

Of malice and hate bred his folly,

A maker of evil lest jolly,

He crumbled the world,

And he threw and he hurled,

The pieces of earth did he volley.

 

Marvel did he at his kin,

As the sun and the moon they did swim,

Milky-lit skies, and fervent goodbyes,

He tickled his teeth with his lapping disguise,

And left with a pinch in his whim.

 

A plum and a hum did he wander,

His Brothers thought ever much fonder,

He slept on his back,

And grinned just a crack,

As the moon in the sky did turn blonder.

 

With thumping foot he stepped forward,

His prey untoward was left cornered,

With a grip of his claw,

He dropped in his maw,

The prey passed his lips and were slaughtered.

 

The feasting of dread did portend,

As villager's lore did transcend,

That the Old Beast of Plum,

Made man fall and succumb,

Nought left were the lives to defend.

© copyright Eve Redwater 2011