The Dark Forest
With a rucksack full of presents I set off to see my Gran
Never thinking of the road that lay ahead.
Wandered down the track; then bolted, I ran and ran and ran,
As a voice hissed "you'll be found tomorrow; dead!"
I stopped inside a clearing, clutching tight my ragged coat
And realised that I was lost and cold.
Before I could move on, a monstrous weasel grabbed my throat,
Hissing "When will men prize life instead of gold?"
Between the trees a wispy mist around the clearing grew,
I pulled my coat from weasel's grasp and ran
I had to get to Grandma's house whatever Fate might do
And Fate seemed to have a very nasty plan
The weasel laughed as we could see a cottage in the woods,
And at the front door waving was my Gran.
I could sense that something wasn't really absolutely right
As the firelight glinted on her yellow fangs.
Woody the jolly woodsman's axe was always razor - sharp,
He had learned to cut down trees in Martinique.
A mighty swing of Axe and wolf now plays a heavenly Harp,
Woody said, "Red Riding Hood ! that's twice this week!"
I rescued Gran from bedroom cupboard where she'd been tied up
We both thanked Woody for his brave display.
He winked at me, gave Gran a kiss and emptied his tea cup,
Gran and he get married later on today.
Comments
Hmmm...
perhaps instead of little red riding hood, little re riding hoodlum lol. A very enjoyable tale with a nice ending twist.......................scribbler
hoods
If the existing traditional fairy tales weren't so dark I might have a go at a slasher version of goldilocks.
Thanks for taking the time to respond.
Kindest Regards
Ian
sequel
I have given up on the sequel (The Headless Wolf Takes Revenge) as it has dawned on me that a headless wolf can't bite anyone!
Thanks for the comments
Love
Ian xx
smarty pants
So you saw through my pathetic attempt at subterfuge. I should have known better than to try fooling the Great OZ.. LOL . Hope your feet are still dry
Love
Ian xx
You are one strange man, tam
You are one strange man, tam the chanter. I kinda like that in a poet.
in the glen
there was a light
saved me from a
horrible sight
the wolf was only
a sheep in wolf fur and fang
and little riding hood
was my granny
disguised
I hold the sharpened axe-blade
don't know which part of the story
to sever like a fish's head,
the teller or the tale.
;-)
Anna the axewoman
In Ian's dark forest creation
Woody's axe had no close imitation
Kailashana snuck by
Lifted axe, who knows why
But this poet is off on vacation
Love
Ian xx