Part 8: Fireside

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is part 8 of a 9 part series of poems about a fantasy world in which I get stuck. The animals speak, and are generally unhelpful while I try to find a way to get home.

They were all written when I was in my mid to late teens and were received well by my friends at the time. I just thought it would be nice to get them out to a wider audience.

Submitted: September 15, 2017

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Submitted: September 15, 2017



Part 8



We were calmly sitting

By the smoky fire

Perching all around

A great big tractor tyre


The warming glow of flames

Bouncing off the walls

Turning all the creatures

Into dark shadowy balls


The sun had gone down

Four or five hours before

The creatures were discussing

Physics and the law


Then one started singing

A song you couldn’t miss

It was tuneful and melodic

And went a bit like this


‘One day a strange pink man

Fell from out the sky

He had clothes and a big smile

And all he ate was pie


He spoke to all the animals

And helped them in their lives

He explained why not to steal

Sweet honey from bee hives


He also said to watch

For great big transit vans

And warned them against drinking

From manky old tin cans


All this good advice

Was followed to a tee

The animals lived happily

And went through their lives with glee


But then one sunny day

As he swished through autumn leaves

He was accosted by some varmints

A handful of small thieves


To his rescue came

A bat with a dark scowl

He soared and swooped and dived

And made noises like an owl


This put the bandits off

And they looked into the sky

They were very small

In fact only three feet high


So he ran and shouted loudly

Through undergrowth so dense

Till he came upon a caravan

A sign read ‘palm reading ten pence’


On entering the wagon

The steps and rafters creaked

A little old gypsy woman

With hair and clothes that reeked


Started making notions

And uttering strange words

She muttered about sparrows

And all other kinds of birds


Some magic jewels were scattered

Littering her floor

He picked one up and bit it

Then gathered a lot more


They tasted just like Smarties

And were sugar coated too

In fact they were quite sticky

One had stuck on to his shoe


On leaving through the door

He encountered the owl-like bat

He scuffed at the bright jewel

It dropped on the well worn mat


On it he read 'welcome'

And lifted it to check

Underneath it was a trapdoor

He thought 'Blimey, Cor, Ooh Eck'


The bat was hovering wildly

And darting to and fro

He said 'Open up the trapdoor

Go on now, have a go'


So the pink man knealt down gently

And grasped the rusty latch

He turned it till it clicked

The bat perched on a grassy patch


From here he saw right down

Into the passage way

There were steps and stalagtites

That had never seen the day


The bat flew straight on in

But the pink man's strength did wain

He dropped the heavy trapdoor

In his arms there was great pain


He tried again to open

The sturdy wooden hatch

The bat said from within

'open up the catch


Are you trying to lock me in here?

That's not very nice you know

I helped you with those varmints

And told them where to go'


The pink man replied in horror

'I can't open it any more

You'll have to go on inwards

To find another door'


So on into the darkness

The bat flew straight and fast

The pink man on the surface thought

 'Of him I've seen the last


I was just starting to like him

With his high pitched squeaking voice

I would call him quite a friend

If I had to make a choice'


So we do not really know yet

What happened to poor Bat

We assume he will be flying

Or upon some rocks he could be sat


Contemplating madness

And un-hinged melodies

That scoot inside his brain

Like multi-coloured bees


He could actually be quite happy

In the darkest cave or cavern

Hanging upside down

Supping ale from the tavern


The pink man as we know

Is sitting with us now

Listening to this song

And explaining to a cow


That it's just a nursery rhyme

There is no talking spoon

Dishes definitely do not walk

And a cow can't jump the moon'


The song abruptly ended

And I woke with a strange start

The vision in my head

Began to tear apart


The animals were asleep

And I shifted to the right

I had slept on a sharp thorn

That felt like a midge bite


I wrapped myself in blanket

And nestled down from the cold air

I fell asleep and dreamt again

But this time of the bear.

© Copyright 2020 Samsammiad. All rights reserved.

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