Rs-related poem i did for English class

[i_D_r]

Check it out

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Virtue of the Peasants

 

 

 

By Dan Lips

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There once was a king, with a strong soul and strong bones.

 

 

 

Fit for the people, fit for the city of Ardougne, fit for the throne.

 

 

 

Generally a nice man, although one should not get in the way of his power.

 

 

 

Anyone intruding on his position was down-right sour.

 

 

 

His only vice was to be the best, the most elite.

 

 

 

He wanted no one to stop him, no one that would defeat.

 

 

 

All was fine until the day Elvarg the Dragon came and roamed the outskirts,

 

 

 

No one could leave or enter, or else they'd get fried and burnt.

 

 

 

Tweaking his brain, confused with chaos, the king was lost.

 

 

 

He had to hurry and make a decision- for he was Boss.

 

 

 

Not soon after an apothecary stopped by,

 

 

 

as he was unusually cheerful, he exclaimed, "Hi!"

 

 

 

"I have a cure for the pest to be dead!"

 

 

 

"A way to show him his last days, put him to bed!"

 

 

 

"A secret combination of ingrediants that would do the trick!"

 

 

 

"Protection from the fiery breaths that make us suffer and itch!"

 

 

 

The king was very estatic,

 

 

 

although his mind was static.

 

 

 

A potion of curing for the fiery hells of Elvargs special attacks?

 

 

 

How will he get it? Pay some gold out of his huge sack?

 

 

 

For the apothecary's intentions seemed white yet black.

 

 

 

"Grant me the potion, and I'll grant you anything you wish."

 

 

 

"Perhaps a buffet? With bread, fruits, veggies, and rare fish?"

 

 

 

The young potion maker shook his head.

 

 

 

"I do not wish for your petty stale bread!"

 

 

 

"I wish to have your crown on my head!"

 

 

 

The apothecary was very blunt.

 

 

 

His intentions were also not very shunt.

 

 

 

"For if it was not for my trademark potion skill,"

 

 

 

"Surely how would anyone have the chance to go in for the kill?"

 

 

 

The king knew this gesture wouldn't be possible.

 

 

 

Yet he agreed, as he lied because that'd be impossible.

 

 

 

Right away the King had multitudes of the antifire potion stocked.

 

 

 

More than enough to defeat Elvarg, to keep the roads unblocked.

 

 

 

The king prepared for battle, and gathered a force of his finest.

 

 

 

Knights, crusaders, rangers, and mages were ready, yet modest.

 

 

 

For Elvarg was still a formidable foe when one would even drink the antifire potion.

 

 

 

But an army of the best 200 could do it if they had the strong and utter devotion.

 

 

 

So out the force left, at the city gates they all drank from their vials.

 

 

 

Paranoid and scared, there was no way out of this; no way to reconcile.

 

 

 

They moved into the most productive formation and opened the gates.

 

 

 

The force was ready to fight, not knowing most of their bloody fates.

 

 

 

Elvargs intent was nothing more than malicious;

 

 

 

Humans were nothing more to him than plain delicious.

 

 

 

The king and apothecary watched from the castle balcony, nervous and scared.

 

 

 

There was so much fiery breath, not a thing could be seen, not a visual could be snared.

 

 

 

After the sun displaced to the other side of the sky, the castle shook and noises raved.

 

 

 

Elvarg had been slain and out came a single knight; the day he had just saved.

 

 

 

The young knight was covered with blood; The worst of it all was the condition of his head.

 

 

 

He had no eyes, no ears, no nose. A dragon eye hung from the top axe of his halbred.

 

 

 

The knight then fell straight to his knees and slowly turned dead.

 

 

 

The king, apothecary, and everyone else of Ardougne cheered for all the honor.

 

 

 

Not soon after words the apothecary demanded the king be a goner.

 

 

 

The king chuckled at such a request, for he wanted to keep his crown.

 

 

 

He then kicked the apothacary out of his domain, told him to leave town.

 

 

 

Completely angered at the Kings corruption, he left the castle ready to get revenge.

 

 

 

He told all the peasants the real story, and asked them to help get his rights avenged.

 

 

 

Knowing the king's army was currently depleted,

 

 

 

the apothecary knew the king would be easily defeated.

 

 

 

That same day 7 dozen of peasants stormed the castle, killing everyone that it consisted.

 

 

 

For then it was the time to face the king the apothecary insisted.

 

 

 

He marched to the throne, and upon the altar he spat,

 

 

 

To a duel he challenged the king; the stake was his golden hat.

 

 

 

He had no choice but to accept the challenge at hand

 

 

 

There were no knights to aid him, this fight was man to man.

 

 

 

So the battle commenced each man fighting for a cause

 

 

 

Never stopping to catch their breath, not even a pause.

 

 

 

The apothecary had mixed some herbs to give him an edge

 

 

 

The potions he drank as the king's sword came down like a sledge.

 

 

 

The blows had no effect for the potions made the apothecary invincible.

 

 

 

That didn't stop the king his mind was unconvincable.

 

 

 

The apothecary delivered one final blow,

 

 

 

To where it struck the world will never know.

 

 

 

The king fell to the ground in a pool of red;

 

 

 

His body was limp, cold, pale; he was dead.

 

 

 

He stood over the body and felt no remorse.

 

 

 

The new king took his crown and made his way through the doors.

 

 

 

And so he became the new ruler of the land Ardougne,

 

 

 

The land will never forget how the king broke his creed.

 

 

 

This story has a moral of which you should know,

 

 

 

Never break a promise or suffer the wrath of your foe.

[Guest deustchland]

Long poem :lol: but as a fellow poet nice :P

[zerator]

Brillinat... long but brilliant