Hey everyone, how are you doing? I wanted to share this, because I don't write poems often, and I liked how this one came out. I wasn't able to submit this as a coursework entry because it's not prose, but I wanted people to see it, because, let's be honest, who doesn't like whimsical poems about badgers? Right? so, with that being said, I hope you guys enjoy this, because I had so much fun writing this.
I took some pictures one fine day,
I took the pictures all the way,
They will help me to remember, that odd day in late September.
It started when I leaped from slumber,
And began to sing a number,
From my favourite west-end play, I sing it each and every day.
I went outside to take some pictures,
Appreciating nature’s fixtures,
I went inside and got my Kodak, and put spare batteries in my rucksack.
I took a picture of a tree,
I took a picture of my knee,
I took a picture of a cat and then I put it in a hat.
I took a picture of a mouse,
I took a picture of his house,
I took a picture, then one more, and put him on my kitchen floor.
I took some pictures of the lake,
I took a picture of a cake,
I ate a slice and then another, then I took some for my mother.
I took a picture of a dog,
And then some of a sinking bog,
My lost my wellies in the mud and then my feet went slap, slap thud.
I took a picture of a pie,
And then I threw it at the sky,
When it crashed back to the ground, I crept away without a sound.
I took a picture of some honey,
I took a picture of my money,
I had about a pound that day, and spent it on a bale of hay.
I took a picture of a cloud,
I took a picture of a crowd,
I wondered what they were crowding for, and saw it was a tiny door.
I took a picture of the door,
It was blurred, I took some more,
Then I saw the door had vanished, and I thought that I’d been banished
To another world it seemed,
Unless I’d entered some strange dream,
For I was standing in a field, holding a great copper shield.
A badger ran up and bellowed,
‘HELP US, HELP US! MY DEAR FELLOW!’
I pulled out my sword and off we went, to a great big yellow floating tent.
I hopped inside and all I saw,
Were rows of badgers, ceiling to floor,
I tried to pause to take a picture, but was met with waves of stricture.
I was taken near the centre,
And told not yet to enter,
The ring which was drawn slightly wonky, and contained a sleeping donkey.
They poked him with a metal rod,
And slapped him with a fresh caught cod,
When he finally awoke, he coughed and spluttered, began to choke.
Eventually he caught his breath,
And told me that his name was Seth.
I nearly offered him a carrot, but the badgers told me ‘he’s fed parrots!’
I was challenged to a duel,
With what was actually a mule,
I put one foot into the ring, and then wondered why I should fight the thing.
The badgers then began to say,
What had happened one dark day,
The mule had come from some strange land, and told them theirs could be as grand.
He said he’d make their rivers shimmer,
As if they were looking through a mirror,
But instead he ate their food, and spent his days in foul moods.
When it turned out he had lied,
The badgers all sat down and cried,
Now they had no food to eat and the mule had broken all their seats.
‘Before I fight him,’ I told their leader,
‘I’ll photograph the little bleeder’
Snap flash! Snap flash! My camera went, lighting up the massive tent.
This threw the mule into a tizzy,
So fighting him was rather easy,
It only took some forty seconds, without the use of any weapons.
We lead the mule into a cage,
He did not even show us rage,
I took a picture of him inside, he tried to kick, his hooves were tied!
We sent him back to whence he came,
He said ‘I’m sorry, so ashamed’
The badgers noisily rejoiced, and many, many thanks were voiced.
I took some pictures of the badgers,
I took some pictures of their ladders,
We had a feast upon the hill, and hung bright flags from the windmill.
When morning came I went back home,
And told the story to a gnome,
He laughed and asked if he could see the pictures of this crazy dream.
I took my camera from its baggage,
Whilst munching on a tasty cabbage,
I pressed ‘view mode’ and nearly died, for there had been no film inside.
Thanks for reading, I hope you liked the bathos at the end of this. (Just in case you didn't know, bathos is the feeling of being let down, typically at the end of a story.)