The Mighty Duel

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Ever have a problem with weeds? Then your in the right place. Join me as we try to conqueror the weedy world!

Submitted: November 06, 2012

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Submitted: November 06, 2012

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The Mighty Duel

I want to tell you story,

A story that is true,

It’ll be kind of gory,

And it could happen to you.

But a story none the less,

That really happened to me,

One that changed my life,

And yours I guarantee.

We all know about weeds,

And how difficult they can be,

But no matter how great our deeds,

From them we’ll never be free.

This story is proof of that,

There is no happy ending,

Listen closely foolish ears,

There is no more pretending.

This could happen to you,

So, without further ado,

I’ll tell my whole story,

In all its wondrous glory.

Do you see over there,

That little splotch of yellow?

It’s sitting all alone,

In a little green meadow.

Waving in the breeze,

So cruelly mocking me,

No work it has to do,

So it grins and laughs “Tee hee!”

It thinks it’s so cool,

Standing barely one foot tall,

It’s challenging me to a duel,

Ha! I’ll show it how to brawl!

Just give me a few seconds,

And I’ll go get my weapons,

Grinning as I run,

I’ll show it what happens.

The little flower doesn’t know,

Who it’s messing with,

I’ve destroyed many of them,

They call me flower death.

But I have to give it credit,

It has a lot of nerves,

But obviously no brains,

I’ll feed it to the birds!

From my weapon stash,

I pull out a pink mower,

Just you wait and see,

I’ll show that pesky flower.

I roll it to the meadow,

Smirking to hide my glower,

“Watch out, my little foe,

You, this thing will devour!”

That having been said,

I pull upon the string,

The motor roars to life,

The flower starts quivering.

I tilt the mower back,

So the plant can see the blades,

They will give that weed a whack!

No more shall it raid!

And suddenly, without warning,

The motor up and dies,

I stare at it disbelievingly,

And think I’m going to cry.

The flower is still quivering,

But not with fear, with hidden mirth!

And now it burst out laughing,

Heing and haing with all its worth!

Glaring fiercely at the weed,

I drop the mower down,

Out of gas? How could it be?

I’d have to run to town!

No matter, no worry,

I do have other weapons,

Down to the stash I hurry,

It will only take a second.

Something long,

Something light,

Something strong,

Something right.

Ahh, there it is,

Leaning beside a heater,

A perfect weapon for my foe,

A blue and red weed eater!

I march back to the meadow,

Weapon in my hands,

Prepared to take on my foe,

With a newly laid plan!

I tower over the weed,

It stares back up at me,

I grin and heft my weapon,

I can’t help a few “hee hees!”

Taking hold of the string,

I give a good strong jerk,

And snap! It breaks off in my hand,

Oh my! How couldn’t it work?

The flower laughs so heartily,

Its face begins to beam,

I can feel mine steaming,

I’m bursting at the seams

Dropping the weapon beside the first,

I bolt back to the stash,

I will find something much, much worse,

Something with lots of flash.

Ah, yes! The ace weapon,

This surely cannot fail.

This weapon is foolproof,

And even has a tail!

I head back to the meadow,

As confident as can be,

To the yellow flower I go,

Leading my plan C!

“Ok, Moo Moo, do your stuff,

Eat that flower up!

Spare no mercy, no matter how rough,

Go on! Giddy up!”

But instead of charging to battle,

Like how it was supposed to be,

The cow just turned and looked at me,

And said most graciously.

“I am sorry,

I truly am,

But I can’t go,

According to plan.

For, you see,

The flower and I,

We’re best friends

And for it I would die!”

I could only stop and stare,

Mouth open, dumfoundedly,

Wondering at which I was more surprised,

The beast talking or disobeying me.

Fine, so be it,

Plenty of weapons had I,

I don’t need a brown old cow,

Other ways I’ll win by.

Back and forth I came and went,

From stash to meadow and back again,

Until the sun had set in the west,

And the town tower clock struck ten.

Every weapon I tried had failed,

Nothing had worked, not even the pail,

Was it the flower or was it me?

Was there a price? Some kind of fee?

Down beside the flower I sat.

“Fine, you win. I am no match.

How did you with me combat?

Where’s the secret weapon at?”

The flower laughed most merrily,

Rising its voice it said airily,

“No weapon there is that can defeat me!

Turn and run you coward. Flee!”

And then a girl,

No older than ten,

Walked through the meadow,

To the yellow flower’s stem.

Without a word,

Without further ado,

She plucked the weed,

And sniffed it too!

Flower in hand,

She walked away.

I stared after her,

Beginning to sway.

How could it be,

That this little girl,

Defeated the mighty weed,

Without being in peril?

Pondering the things I had seen today,

I wondered how much I would have to pay,

To buy a weapon such as that,

To destroy any flowers within my path.

I could rule the flower world,

With such a weapon at my side,

I could make them all my slaves,

Not one from me would hide!

Ha! Ha! Of course!

It’s as simple as can be.

A new ruler has come,

That ruler is me!

I sprang to my feet,

And ran after the girl,

I begged and pleaded,

Even gave her a pearl.

But she would not help me,

Only wanted to get home,

To give her mother the flower,

And the little white stone.

In broken defeat,

I fall to my knees,

Nothing had worked,

Not even a “please.”

My dreams faded,

With the sun,

Night set in,

I felt so numb.

I had lost,

The weed had won,

Oh, please tell me,

What went wrong?

And then to my right,

A firefly flew,

Blinking its light,

And mocking me too.

Who was this?

Challenging me so?

I’ll show it whose boss.

I’ll squash it with my toe!

I spring to my feet,

An evil grin stretching.

“To my stash and weapons!

To firefly catching!”


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