A writing space for you to enjoy and a writing space for me to employ to increase my writing pace.

Category: Short Story

The Snake and The Frog

I enjoyed writing How The Fir Tree Came To Be so much that I decided to have another pop at a similar style, but this time it’s become more Aesop’s Fables than Rudyard Kipling. In fact, it started off as a short story influenced slightly by Brer Rabbit.

If you enjoy these longer, more in depth poems and the detail I write as an introduction, then please let me know in the comments. I appreciate every ones input 🙂

The sun was bright,
And struck the tree,
From where our tale hails,

“Why, Mr Frog, what does bring you here?”
Purred Sir the Snake with a hunger drenched voice.
“Oh, Sir Snake!” Cried Fitch the Frog,
“Why should you make such a choice!”

“For if I were eaten by your good self,
All your unshed skins would be found,
Curled at the bottom of your sleeping shelf!”

Stopping mid slide, an expression came on Sir’s snout,
(Untried before this time) as was seen by Fitch.
“You are confused, Sir?” He questioned,
“I am.” Sir replied with a twitch.

“Do you not see my yellow banding?
Do you not see my green topped head?
Of poisons, these are a sign and branding.”

Sir the Snake coiled to an upright position.
“Tell me more, educated friend.” Spoke he,
Fitch replied: “A bright colouring,
Can show a poison, or be sneaky.”

So Fitch explained in deep details,
His personal life defences,
And what it – having no poison – entails.

Grinning from one unlatched jaw to the other,
Sir the Snake thanked Fitch the Frog greatly.
“My dear dinner, what a kind thing.
It has been such a nightmare lately.”

The Frog was eaten in seconds,
Sir slithered stage left soon after,
As another foolish meal has beckoned.

Take this lesson,
Learn it well,
Know your enemies,
But do never tell.


Lollard Beathe and Sanda Harr

Lollard Beathe skips a merry walkway in steps a mile wide,
But keeps a distance between himself and Sanda Harr so that he can hide.

He’s a funny man that Lollard Beathe – they say of him years later – ,
Did you know that he asked her out for lunch before being blessed by pater!

Sanda Harr; what a gentle, young soul. Keeping her head on her shoulders,
Unlike her man who has no head at all! Keeping a thought in no folders.

How The Fir Tree Came To Be

This is an attempt at an old style origin story – like Rudyard Kiplings “How The Leopard Got His Spots” – but it’s similar in theme alone.

I’ve always seen fir trees as dark foreboding things and so decided it would be a good point to draw a fantastical poem from. I hope it is as enjoyable to read as it was to write.

There were two trees in the valley,
The Oak and the Birch.
The Oak stood strong and proud,
The Birch preened itself and spoke:
“Why,” swayed she “I am one to behold.”
“Why,” creaked the Oak “It cannot be told,
How foolish you are. My strength matters more”,
“Oh no no no,” rustled the Birch “strength makes you poor,
Beauty as alike to mine can only bring riches.”
“My dear, you are only rich in minerals.”

Two trees bickered in the valley,
The Oak and the Birch.
The Oak swayed proudly in strength,
The Birch whipped and wept for beauty.
Soon the sun swept South, “Stop.” spoke Oak,
“You have left welts, but we are kin-folk.
To shout in this way belittles our race.
Come, let us create a sapling with our shared face.”
“Gleeful do I take to this plan you have created,
We shall have a shared tree; with both strength and beauty.”

The Wind rushed through the valley,
And witnessed the birth,
Of a Fir to the Birch,
With the Oak gazing proudly.
“In your pride you have made a fall,
So in pride and dark shall be his all.
Fir shall have beauty and be strong in bough,
Winter never harm him, but he’ll be alone from now!”
This was the Winds curse upon Fir: king of dark forests,
He would have a lonely rule, surrounded by no friend.

As Given To Solomon

Young boy, I have seen more horror than you ever shall. And so I have more wisdom than you can ever understand.

Sir, I have seen unrivalled beauty. I have known inner peace, even now. I have gazed upon a sunset in wonder and joy with the cool air calming my adrenaline. In these things I know my way, but wisdom is gained not through suffering, nor happiness, nor age; wisdom is a gift from God alone.