Poem #34: The Cook of Shady Nooke

Out in the night,

far out of sight

up on the lofty mountain height,

the Monster slept,
the village wept
for victims that he'd caught and et. 

His claws were cruel
beside a pool
he'd made in sleep while dribbling drool

He dreamt of feasts
of little beasts
with no compassion in the least.

And so the Cook

of Shady Nooke 

went to the bookshop for a book

on how to slay

such beasts who prey

on smaller creatures, day by day. 

Then, armed with knife, 

he kissed his wife,

and said farewell to home and life

He climbed the hill

the beast to kill
as it lay sleeping, slothful, still.


He saw it there
with matted hair,
eyes shut in gruesome grisly glare
in sleep, its breath
stank foul of death
and filled the cave of air bereft.


Slash! went the blade,
the fight was made,
upon the corpse the shadows played
as morning light
broke through the night
and sparkled on the mountain heights.


And so the Cook
of Shady Nooke
hung back his knife upon its hook.
A tray he laid
of breakfast made
for his wife as she slept and prayed.