Pumberly Pott’s Unpredictable Niece

Pumberly Pott’s Unpredictable Niece by Jack Prelutsky

Pumberly Pott’s unpredictable niece
declared with her usual zeal
that she would devour, by piece, after piece,
her uncle’s new automobile.
She set to her task very early one morn
by consuming the whole carburetor;
then she swallowed the windshield, the headlights and horn,
and the steering wheel just a bit later.
She chomped on the doors, on the handles and locks,
on the valves and the pistons and rings;
on the air pump and fuel pump and spark plugs and shocks,
on the brakes and the axles and springs.
When her uncle arrived she was chewing a hash
made of leftover hoses and wires
(she’d just finished eating the clutch and the dash
and the steel-belted radial tires).
“Oh, what have you done to my auto,” he cried,
“you strange unpredictable lass?”
“The thing wouldn’t work, Uncle Pott,” she replied,
and he wept, “It was just out of gas.”

Pumberly Pott’s Unpredictable Niece

The Stoker of the Flame

The Stoker of the Flame
(Collaboration between Chris McDaniel and Dom1n1ck of the Writers-Network.com)

High in a mountain retreat
We are bound to meet
Some call him a myth
A spirit in the mist
Cloaked he does remain
Doling out his pain
Stirring human hate
Twisting the hands of fate
The maker of strife and war
The hands of death behind the door

Must find this nare-do-well
To silence the hound of hell
I must stare evil in the face
When I find the place
Ready to play a deadly game
Stands the Stoker of the Flame

I clothe myself in armor
and ask the blessing of the Martyr.
I begin my search in the east
looking for the lair of the beast
Over ancient gray stone
and through keening wind, all alone
I search for the demon without a face
the last of his wicked race

My search seems in vain
until I find a sage clothed in chain.
“If you are certain of what you seek
look upon the western peak.
There where the mountains never rest
you will find the end of your quest.”

In his crystal sphere, he sees me from afar
Sends his evil minions with instruments of war
Pitched battles fought by day and terrors at night
The Stoker of the Flame knows not a fair fight
Six years it takes me to reach my destination
Battle hardened and tested by this depredation

There is no surprise and no fear in his stance
As he turns from the cauldron and picks up his lance
A fiendish smile washes over his grizzled face
“You have chosen to die, in this very place”
Fire roared behind him, flames licking from the sky
The ground shook under me, as he let out a fiendish cry

I drew my battle-worn blade,
and lifted my worn shield, unafraid
my foe charged, fury burning in his eyes
I deflected his weapon, a blow to pierce the skies
and responded with a furious stroke
that split open his mail and the smoke.
My shield was no more,
I tossed aside the worthless metal and with a roar
built up over six years, I rushed
my nemesis. Stones were crushed
and the ring of steel split the air
but in the end, in the darkness of his lair
The Stoker of the Flames met his demise
as my sword pierced his heart, and ended his lies.

Finally, my long quest has ended
but something caught my eye
the flames had begun dancing, it was splendid
the beautiful colors, but then they began to die.
I could not allow them to fade
so I grabbed some wood
and began to feed them, it was my only desire
I had to protect them, they were so misunderstood
So I became the Stoker of the Flame

The Stoker of the Flame

Rules

Rules by Karla Kuskin

Do not jump on ancient uncles.
*
Do not yell at average mice.
*
Do not wear a broom to breakfast.
*
Do not ask a snake’s advice.
*
Do not bathe in chocolate pudding.
*
Do not talk to bearded bears.
*
Do not smoke cigars on sofas
*
Do not dance on velvet chairs
*
Do not take a whale to visit
Russel’s mother’s cousin’s yacht.
*
And whatever else you do do
It is better you
Do not.

Rules