Children Poetry posted February 25, 2018

This work has reached the exceptional level
A poem in a story.

Into the Wood

by brenda bickers

Her papa used to tell her of the stories long ago
about the Scumbleweebs of Scrag, and all that she should know.
He said to her, “Now, Penny Jane, don’t go down to the woods,
for you’ll see things that little girls never really should."
Well Penny Jane, or so I’ve heard, was known to disobey,
so told her papa she’d be good if she could go and play.

And with a hop, a skip, and jump she ran toward the thicket
with jar in hand, just as she planned to catch another cricket.
She sat upon the grassy mound to watch the dragonflies,
then thought she heard a Scumbleweeb that caught her by surprise.
And with a start, her racing heart, it then began to shout.
“You’ve lied again, you’ll get caught out; of this I have no doubt.”

Penny Jane jumped to her feet and looked from left to right,
then saw a little leprechaun stood there in full plain sight.
With hair of red upon his head and freckles on his nose,
he flipped a flop and danced the bop while spinning on his toes.
She whooped and laughed so very hard then squealed in sheer delight,
“I thought you were the Scumbleweeb, you gave me such a fright.”

“A Scumbleweeb, I hear you say; well that’s no laughing matter.
If I were he, you’d cease to be, your ashes I would scatter;
for those of us who live by lies will surely learn their fate,
if they begin to venture far beyond the garden gate.
You had been warned; his words you scorned, and now you’ll pay the price--
you’ll wish that you had listened to your papa’s sound advice.“

Penny Jane began to cry, her body all aquiver;
scary thoughts inside her head caused her to fret and dither.
“I promise now that I’ll be good and do just what I should,
when papa tells me not to go down into Scraggy wood.”
The leprechaun then rubbed his chin, said, “This is what I’ll do.
Just how this story has to end is plainly up to you.

From now until the day you die you’ll never tell a fib,
for I have magic powers and I’ll know just what you did.”

That night in bed, while fast asleep and deep in peaceful dream,
Penny Jane recalled her day and all that she had seen.
And from that time, never again did Penny tell more lies,
a promise that she said she’d keep until the day she dies.



Poem of the Month contest entry


I was going to put this in the "write a poem in a story" contest but after seeing one of the other entries I changed my mind. LOL
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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