Stomp

An unlucky troll who misses a meal

To skulk about at hours of night

In the mists and clouds and bright moonlight

To shift about through muck and mire

And find in the distance a little light of fire

 

He burbled away as he did go

The shifty and the cantankerous troll

Something was cooking, he knew all too well

The flesh of dead meat, he loved that smell

 

He plodded, he swayed

Along the little man folk trail way

He whittled a thumbnail to his ax

To check its readiness for a catch or a slash

 

The fire site grew closer

The meat there did smolder

He hurried a ways

Seeing a prize he did crave

 

It looked large and fat as an ox

A small meal for this old gnarly lummox

Back to the back of his dark cave

He would feast on this meal until the light of day

 

In a hurry now he tripped

And broke what he considered just a stick

The men folk were made wise

Of this beast’s lumbering strides

 

To arms they called

With swords drawn and all

There were twenty of them

But that wouldn’t stop him

 

He’d stomp and he’d stomp

Stomp them down with a romp

To get his fair prize

With his axe he’d excise

 

Forward and back

Upon his foe he attacked

Snicker and snack, attack, click-clack

They jabbed at him despite his mighty axe

 

When wounded he howled

Then bent over he growled

He still reached for the meat

Never seeing his coming defeat

 

One more blow to his head

The Stomper was dead

Without ever a taste of any flesh

And left this small story to no kind of rest

Author's Note

I am a writer of many things. I have been for many a year. Writing is a form of art along with so many other kinds. Art in all it's forms is a magic unto itself...

Reviews

[gombeggar]

Pretty funny and scary the same time, you have the unique style to amaze the reader, nailing subjects rather unspoken, brilliant.

E. L.

[gombeggar]

well, thank u very much...nice to wake up to someone calling me brilliant once in a while ;)

You deserved it... :)