Why am I starting a blog? Partly as an outlet, but mainly as place where I can record my creative writing and receive some feedback/criticism. My current project is a collection of poems. I've never been terribly good at writing poetry, at least not the beautiful, serious kind, so my poetry collection is going to be silly. I've modeled the first one after Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes (if you haven't read his poems, you should). But instead of changing fairy tales into funny poems, as Dahl does, I intend to use Bible Stories. My first one, which I'm re-posting, is about Ehud. Yes, it's rough, but the general gist of it is there. If anyone has any suggestions for improving the rhythm or the rhymes, please don't hesitate to post them.
Ehud
As any college kid will know
It’s not nice being out of dough.
The leading role in our story
(which, in fact, is rather gory)
Is Ehud, one of Gera’s sons,
Who lived off cucumbers and buns.
And why was Ehud’s life so lame?
Why was he poor, who was to blame?
Eglon! – hater of the Civil Rights,
Who overtaxed the Israelites.
For every year, some time in May,
The brute squad took their cash away.
One day, finding his cupboard bare
Ehud’s temper began to flare
“If I have to eat one more cuke,
Said he, “I’m really going to puke!
It’s time to change the status quo
This Eglon chap has got to go!”
So the next year, in latish spring,
Ehud took gold to the king.
With a dagger strapped to his thigh,
He smiled at the guards and sidled by.
King Eglon sat upon his throne,
Bald and wearing too much cologne
He looked a lot like Jabba the Hutt
With rolls of fat spilling from his gut
The king snatched the money away with glee
“Taxes, taxes, all for me!”
And emitting several girlish squeals
The humungous pig kicked up his heels.
While the king continued to gloat
Our left-handed champ cleared his throat.
“Wot?” Asked the king (yes he was thick)
“If you’ve got something to say, then say it quick.”
Ehud bowed and polit’ly replied,
“I’ve got info, and it’s classified,”
King Eglon, somewhat pacified,
grunted and shooed his men outside.
“Right then,” began the oafish lout,
“What’s the news? Come on, spit it out!”
“I’ve got a message from the Lord.”
Said Ehud, and stabbed him with a sword.
And, as inward slid the silken knife,
The tummy seemed to come to life.
And, as quick as spreading scandal
It swallowed point and blade and handle.
To the fat, E said “it’s all yours.”
And stepped back as slop splattered the floors.
(I won’t say what poured from his belly
only that it was rather smelly).
Our hero grabbed the king and, with a groan,
Dragged him to his other throne.
With that, Ehud quickly ran,
And escaped down through the royal can.
Meanwhile, the servants stood outside the john,
Wondering what was going on.
They waited and again they waited,
“Perhaps” said one “he’s constipated.”
“Perhaps he simply likes the loo.”
Said another, shrugging, “I sure do.”
But, after an hour – or was it three?
One of them fetched a key.
Though shocked at the macabre display,
They agreed they’d never liked him anyway.
So, when Ehud’s troops came to the gate,
They all began to celebrate.
Moral: if you are a trifle hefty
Never trust a starving lefty.
That's about all I have for now. I did write another similar poem this week about the story of Ruth, but it didn't turn out as well as I had hoped. I think it was mainly because that particular story wasn't as easy to poke fun at (no gruesome bits). I'm hoping to start another one shortly, once I've picked a more suitable story. I might go back to the Book of Judges to see what I can see...
