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THE OGRE
By Simon
Beware the Ogre of the Night,
no fairy tail of fear, of fright,
of beasts that skulk beyond the light.
The Ogre lives of flesh and bone.
O'er hill and dale, he'll stalk you home,
and cave your skull in with a stone.
But don't defy or think of flight.
To run away, to turn and fight,
would bring conclusion to your life.
Just hasten now, become so small,
into the nearest crevice crawl
and hunch into a tiny ball.
Move not at all, just sit and wait,
dare not to breathe, for Heaven's sake,
lest you become his human bait.
Be still.......I say and hope and pray
that this, is not your final day.
Monster like, he lumbers past.
His rancid breath, a scorching blast,
with mutterings of death and blood,
his footsteps sucking in the mud.
Whilest for your liberty you yearn,
with teeth that chatter, lungs that burn,
until you're sure, it's not your turn,
to be consumed with one swift bite.
You watch the fiend trudge out of sight.
And thus, delivered from your plight,
you stamp your foot and promise blight,
upon
The Ogre of the Night.
The Ogre's Flowers
The First, she bloomed
Like the Tulip that grows.
It took her some years,
To just blow her own nose.
A delicate stem, lovely and fair
She sways with the wind,
Lighter than air.
A Mother now, O'er all the rest
Her wee ones, they do put her,
Up to the test.
When time doth come when she may rest,
She shares with all what she loves the best.
Her voice raises up, up unto the
sky,
Her joyous blessing from,
Him, that's on high.
The Ogre, his chest, it swells up with pride
And happy tears, the beast, he does hide.
The Second, as the Wild Flower she
grows,
Her loving kindness, just overflows.
Extending always, her gentle hand,
To the helpless beast and the hapless
man.
Her beauty, it rises deep from within.
The Ogre, he thinks, she does favor him.
His frenzied mind may soon burst apart,
For the wonder of where,
She got her kind heart.
In the yesterdays gone
of the Old Ogre's quests,
His fathering skills did cause some
regrets.
For these two, nearly left 'most
all alone
The aging beast seeks to humbly atone.
The Gruesome Old Troll,
he want's it well known,
He loves them more,
Than has ever been shown.
The Third flower,
She blossomed as a Rose.
He loves her dearly, this thing she knows.
She loves to act and dance and sing.
She's in to almost everything.
Her sister's attributes,
This little one shares.
The youngest of three,
All of them, rare.
From deep inside his darkened lair,
They've drawn him out,
Their lives to share.
One day you may spy him
Outside in the sun.
Don't go too near,
Lest your life, may be done.
To tread on his flowers
Will raise up his ire.
He'll be roasting your bones
On a large open fire.
Dab
Fearsome Ogre of Fiv
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