The Pudding Lords

At nine o’clock
on a starlit eve
Great kings of beasts
from the forest thrones
Carved an oaken slab
and heaved
Its bulk onto
protruding stones.

I helped the Lord
of Deer to bring
Ripe and seasoned
grub to eat
For although he may
to deer be King
His hooves serve not
as hands or feet.

As more arrived,
the laughter grew
The kings of beasts
made raucous noise
King Lion roared,
and squealed Lord Shrew
But none compared
to two small boys.

They giggled, ran about
our feet
One darted right across
my toes
And tripped into a dish
of meat
The cook had worked
so hard to roast.

The Wolf Chief howled
the Dove Queen cried
They mourned the sad,
untimely loss
Of the plate they’d both
intently eyed
Together with
Prince Albatross.

Hours have passed
in quiet since;
No children frisk
about the place
Of a smirk by the cook
I caught a glimpse
And damn, I say,
the pudding’s ace.

 
Written by Scriven Bernard on 27/02/14
© 2014 Scriven Bernard

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whimsical, fun, dance, forest, animals, twist, fate

 
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Harriet Martin I think this is brilliant! 27/02/14

 

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