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  Rhymalot - a funny poem by Australian poet Graeme King - funny poems, sad poems, serious poems and romantic poems. Poems for children, nature poems and environment poems, flash poetry, fantasy poems, funny limericks and more ©kingpoetry2007.
 

RHYMALOT

The kite signal had flown, and the knights assembled in Rhymalot.

King Oder addressed them:

 

“Knights! The fight for right starts tonight! Despite our plight, the white kite’s flight signifies an ignited light and I’m quite delighted in the sight of your might!

“We need a man for the first trepan into enemy land,” every knight raised his hand. The King glanced at their stance:

 

“Sir Lancelot, you prance a lot, you dance and sing and chance a lot,

But a fancy man from France I must look on askance a lot!

 

“Sir Guayne, disdain is in my brain, you feign your pain but you’re insane! My reign would wane and be in vain, so chain your refrain, I’ll think again!

 

“Sir Gwyrrd, I’m afeared your weird three-tiered beard would be jeered not revered. I peered and leered, it’s clearly queer and weird!

 

“Sir Wannabe, you’re telling me that you can see your victory? But I would plead insanity if I chose He and He were thee!

 

“Sir Budapest, you think you’re best, your zest would be put to the test, but lest I guessed in jest and messed this pest of a quest, please rest!

 

“Sir Guy, I spy in your brave eye a high defiance of my cry, but do or die I sigh and slyly try and find the reason why!

 

“Sir Gore, you bore the sword of war and swore no more! Don’t implore me, I ignore your poor roar, this chore would be flawed with guffaws, I’m sure!

 

Hands went down and frowns surrounded the brown crowns of the table round. A drowned sound impounded this mound of men renowned.

The king spoke:

 

“Folk, no joke, I have the bloke!

 

“I trust a lot of things to fate but must a lot of things relate

I sussed a lot of good, stout men and fussed a lot of thoughts out then,

I cussed a lot, then found my Ten, Sir Rustalot, say hello, men!”

 

Sir Rustalot grins cheese and says in a wheeze:

“Please, at ease, freeze, joustees, the reason I’m the bees’ knees that our Liege sees is I never sneeze or catch disease from the winter’s breeze. Easy!"

 

The throng then sung a song, the knight made flight into the night, to bring his King the ring that meant everything…but that’s another poem!

 

more of my CHILDREN"S POEMS

 

Original pictures by Graeme King ©Kingpoetry2007  BACK to TOP

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