The plates crashed against the floor
The commotion neared the door
The footsteps hit along the broad corridor,
But no one could seem to stop the horror
Of the thief who seemed to want so much more
Than the precious silver forks: four.
And the butler screamed
As the maid fell
And the gardener cried
At the fire trucks bell
But one person watched behind curtains.
You see, no one saw what lurked in the night.
No one was prepared to put up a fight.
No one knew they were in for a fright,
Or that their lives would take a turn, not to right,
So no one was there to flick on the light
And expose the vandal who crept: a delight.
The butler still screamed
Ad the maid still fell
And the gardener sobbed
At the fire trucks sad bell
But that person still watched behind curtains.
The detective came in just a week later
He rose to the case like a working elevator
He brushed off his clothes,
Punched a guard in the nose,
And said, “How’s that, you rude hater?”
The case had been closed
And the story seemed done,
But our intrepid protagonist had not had his fun.
He had heard the strange tales
From the maid, butler, and gardener
He had heard the stories and had to conclude
That he would have to be sharpener
To catch the bad thief who stole more than a fork
He would have to be fast, and smart like sweet Bjork.
That night when the butler yelled
And the maid was befelled
When the gardener wept
Where was the bespelled?
The witch, the tricks, the wizard,
The bony old batty lizard?
The detective knew now
What he didn’t know then
He knew the new clues
From the little red hen
If he followed the tracks
And from a path did not stray
The detective would keep his job another day.
You see, when he walked in that house on that morning,
He found that some of the staff was not mourning
The loss of their boss found dead in the pool
After the robbing of four forks and a mule.
So the detective asked each and every one,
Where they were when the story had begun.
Just as he suspected when he was through,
The suspect was none other than old Mr. VanSue,
The neighbor who watched from across the way.
BECAUSE AS WE ALL ALREADY KNOW
The butler was busy
The maid was quite down
The gardener was watering with his tears the ground
But the one person who wasn’t occupied during this time
Was the little old man with his eyes on the dime,
For the forks were worth a pretty penny,
And the mule was a good escape,
But what Mr. VanSue wanted more that both those,
Was the thought of the lead of the household
Gone and strangled in the cloth of a drape.
“Ah ha ha ha!” Cried detective
Triumphant fists in the air,
“Oh yes!” Cried detective
Bended fingers in his hair.
He hadn’t had much luck in the past,
But now his career was moved to full blast
His trick with the crook
And the flip of the sneak
Had made his confidence
Go to wonderful from bleak,
And he had hit the highest peak
His mood was otter sleek,
And he vowed to not be meek,
And defend forks forever more
No one died from robberies skewed
No one drowned in poisons brewed,
No innocent heart unglued,
No things chewed
That are not food
And until every unredeemable case
Had been renewed.
It would be a harrowing time,
A time in which crime would climb
A time corroded in slime
E criminals and robbers,
The crooked mothers and their cobblers,
The sisters and their misters
The brothers and their others
All the nannies and the grannies
The old pa’s and the faux pas
All the little latkes lined up in a row
When the wild winds begin to blow
The detective will reap and he will sow
And finally he will know
That to a carnival he will go
To find the clowns and kookaburras
All the lovely tiny brachyura
Going absolutely crazy lunatic: locura.
The detective knew, he truly knew
That in his cold and gray eyes,
He wasn’t afraid of the dark,
But what in it lies.
He was scared that if he wasn’t brave
He would soon become a slave
To his worst enemy; an early grave,
From working morning, noon, and eve,
Or maybe never saving Steve,
The train engine,
Mob boss Steve.
Yes, the butler knew how to serve
And the maid used to have better balance
The gardener grew the best carrots
And the fire engine was valence,
But once upon a time
There was a crash and bang
A ring to be rang
And the detective couldn’t do it.
So he would have to make up for lost time.
He would have to solve a case,
For all the lost battles,
And puddles of Mace,
Dripping along the edges of a silent parking garage.
The detective flinched to think of the past,
Of things he thought too good to last,
Even when they were gone, he thought they left too fast.
Was it because of the midlife crisis?
Or an existential one at that?
Did the detective think he was getting old?
Or that he was now a baseball bat?
Why did ice cream splat?
Are there no more jellicle cats?
Did those dumplings make me fat?
Or did the lack of pillows make me flat?
The detective said, “I’m such a brat.”
But a brat that was good at solving mysteries,
Would never give up for anything
Because he knew what was at stake.
Cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake Cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake.
And some more cake for fun.
(Author’s Note: I don’t know if anyone will read this ridiculous poem to the end, but I needed some more words. So hi. How are you? Is this a time of turmoil and trouble in your life? If so, I have some words for you. I bet you can maybe probably guess what they are. Because I said it just a couple times in this poem. It starts with a “C” and has “Ak” in the middle and ends with “E”. It’s called cake. I like, recommend it strongly. Thank you for listening to my TED Talk. I wrote at least a thousand words for this poem but for some strange reason it wouldn't take when I attempted to submit it. You can stop reading it now if you want to. I won't mind. I'm just talking to you for the words. But it's nice to have someone to talk to, now that I think of it. It's so lonely at home even though I live in a field of roses and... you know what? I'm not even sure what I'm saying anymore. But thanks for reading my latest nonsense.)
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I liked this story, keep up the great work. Have a great day! : )
'...he would have to be sharpener.' Oh what a poet you truly are I should have seen you from afar Waving your keyboard looking for rhymes An insomniac waiting for the morning chimes. Anyway, I hope you had fun putting together the 'Keats' and 'Shakespeare.'
As it turns out, writing at least a thousand words of poetry isn't very easy! If it was, I would put a lot more of my poetry on this website. Alas, we will have to wait for my collections to get published. :(
Well that's lovely!