At some point, I decided to name my infrequent collections of barely-acceptable fantasy poetry “Dungeon Doggerel”, an idea that must have seemed witty to me at some point in time. Now I’m stuck with it. If there’s any joy or truth in the world, this will not end up in a book some day.
Hint: Have you SEEN the world lately?
~ ~ ~
Each Halloween, I hold hope faint
That we’ll dress as something we ain’t.
As the Moon rises, my hopes fall:
We’re still all monsters, one and all.
~ ~ ~
The Rum is gone, and with it go
Our hopes and dreams. It’s always so.
Pirates may steal your gold and liquor;
But they just do what life does (only quicker).
~ ~ ~
Note thou this alcoholian curse:
never drink and write fantasy verse.
For if you do, you’ll find your corks
Are no defense when you’re attacked by Orcs.
~ ~ ~
Now my rhymes are done, and thou
Are free to go somewhere else, somehow
But click as thou wilt, thou wilt yet find:
Ridiculous words stick long in the mind.
