A Half-Orc Bard's Epitaph
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights
reserved
*
Inspired by Robert Burns and Dungeons & Dragons
Concept: Attempted Epitaph
*
Is there another whimsy, Elven fool,
Hellbent on insisting to solemnly
rule,
Or subtly hate, and quite lazily
drool,
Let him draw blood;
Dear audience may throw a
stool,
To stop my muse's flood.
*
Oh fellow bards of crudest poetry,
Who you inspire and seduce the
Shy,
This lament is for all to see,
Don't heedlessly pass by!
But, as last honor, with dignity,
Here, wave goodbye.
*
Is there a man, whose heart is free
Who inspires us how life is to
steer,
Trapped, himself, in life's
monetary decree,
Remember this and have a beer!
For the pleasure he gave,
Please honor this grave.
*
The mourned inhabitant, buried
below,
Was quick to fight, no craven
shame,
And keenly faced the friendly
blow,
Due to his softer frame;
Our too martial follies laid him
low,
And robbed his chance for
fame!
*
A Thorwalson braves Spookwood
(Fan poem about 'The Dark Eye' roleplaying)
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, alle rights reserved
His loving wife could not accompany him on the
quest,
she had to guard their home from any unwelcome
guest.
Still the dread legend of the Spookwood was his
path,
for no ghostly forest should teach Swafnir the
'math'!
*
Armed with battleaxe and shield he ventures forth,
facing the horror of the night in the frozen
North.
Because no horror of our sacred fatherland
Thorwal,
could send more folk than cowardice itself to
hell.
*
Damp fog suddenly arises, as if by dragon's
breath,
the brain assailed by raptures of dread and death.
Still unshaken the bold son of Thorwal marches on,
for a loud werewolf's howl offers a duel to be
won.
*
Berserk robber or moonlight skald it will be
known,
unveiling a truth by combat as it'll be soon
shown.
The frosty fey, she witnesses like worried wives,
as Norse and werewolf foolishly risk their lives.
*
Indeed the Thorwalson overcame that raging beast,
a close call, leaving the carcass as crow's feast.
Now the ice fey nears, enthralled by her
curiosity,
'Behave, ghost lady, I rest and bleed as courtesy.
*
Her lethal kiss, she thinks it merely Rahja's
gift,
but Norse choice of duty before death comes swift.
To banish this ethereal visitor it needs a shake,
mixed from salt and warding oil of the mandrake!
*
The witch observes it with a smirk, this man's
way,
for this night it is not the time to curse or
slay!
'I spare your life, if you'll swear to me this
night,
you won't return here until it is by divine right.'
*
A man of honor the Thorwalson proudly takes his
leave,
the witch watches him, then retreats stealthy like a
thief.
Returning home he sees his armed wife as she had
sworn,
That long night, dear child, we ensured you will be
born!
