Thursday, September 18, 2014


image borrowed from bing


“The story of Ulysses & Agamemnon & Menelaus, of Jesus,
of the Good Knight of Chaucer lives in every one of us.”
--James Lee Burke

The baronis barricaded bungalow
                    stood on it stilt-stanchions
                    near the cusp of the Tharakian Forest;
to the torrential Rains of Riprore
                    that came too often        unannounced,
                                                     as the pernicious purple
tides would run four feet deep,
                     sweeping all the sweet ferrischrooms
                     & fairy muklarks away, carrying
them unceremoniously down to the muddy Dartoon Delta,
where the pink-winged garfs
                     & the shark-finned electric pinto seals
would gobble them as glorious delicacies.

Kronis arose with the second sun,
ate his pelicoon eggs cold,
dipping his toasted rye-fingers
into his golden mug of steaming green kafteen.

He strode proudly out onto his pecan porch,
                 stretching his powerfully muscled arms
                                 over his head, rippling
                                 & popping his abs, gluts. & calves
                 during his morning sun salute.

                 His silver-plated armor hung
on its willow pole horse, beckoning to him.
                 He pulled on the metal leggings first,
squatting several times as the iron knee joints brayed
                             & squawked--limbering up,
                             before          pulling on Pyrothian
                             snakeskin boots, slapping at
the red & black scales embedded in the leather
                             for luck;        strapping on
his chest plates with their bloodfire mercurian mango crests
emblazoned on them,      tied on his golden wartdog eppiletts 
& his forearm protectors, before picking up
                       his thick heavy broadsword--Drammelslayer,
                       sheathed in its white-fringed 
                       Palimanus scabbard, & artfully slung
it across his broad naked back--a warrior
               never wears armor behind him
               because his foes
               would always be in front of him.

His war helmet, Bertranius, shone brightly
of bronze, jade, & gold-plating.               He carried it
under his left arm as his Stygian attendants
walked over from the stable
                with his Mars Stallion--Ferocitus.

He mounted confidently, without assistance,
this morning, & galloped off toward
                the Vermillion Mountains--for a yellow-backed
boar Drammel had been raiding a village
                near Mt. Shaknoid, devouring cattle
                & villagers alike, before burning huts.

Kronis would introduce himself
that day at the end of Ramgust,
& he rode without doubt
that the dastardly Drammel
would soon become
his hundredth kill.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets MTB

Would you like to hear the author read this Nonsense Poem to you?



Claudia said...

oh i hope he gets it..nice description of his armor...the helmet with jade & gold-plating... i love the snakeskin boots a'm a woman...smiles

Anonymous said...

There are some delicious neologisms here, Glenn. Like Claudia, I hope he gets that 100th kill; the drammel seems to deserve it's fate.

Björn Rudberg said...

I wonder if my poor Octopus could borrow some of his clothing.. a great read here, with so many turn of words I never knew I needed :-) (love the pic too)

Marina Sofia said...

I love the first few lines, where you really elevate sound above meaning and mash together all those wonderful alliterations. But then you try something different as well, mash up of nonsense content which still seems so oddly familiar:
dipping his toasted rye-fingers
into his golden mug of steaming green kafteen.
Hugely enjoyable! Epic, as is everything you write!

Anonymous said...

Glenn -- I felt like I was on Barsoom in one of the Edgar Rice Burrows novels of my youth.

Anonymous said...

Oh, my goodness. I'm back in high school reading Beowulf... how in the world did you write that? Amazed.

vb holmes said...

A little mythology, a little dystopia, a lot of vivid description--sounds like an excerpt from a longer work. Well done.

Anonymous said...

You my friend are a true story-teller. Your voice brings a warm soothing to my ears. I'm so glad and happy that we are friends and share the same connection to the universe and beyond.

I love your poem here...Bravo!

Anonymous said...

Only a pecan porch could hold all that. Invigorating!

Lisa said...

it takes a man..

Hi I enjoyed your poem story,

Anonymous said...

all those poor sweet ferrischrooms
& fairy muklarks! you are truly the teller of tales, nonsense or not- wonderful, Glenn!

vivinfrance said...

A very fancy warrior. I do hope no-one creeps up from behinf and stabs him in the back!

seasideauthor said...

Great story and picture, lines are great, descriptive. So complex!

Arathi Harihar said...

wonderful read and such a detailed description..very nice

Anonymous said...

You may have used some neologisms here, but this read like a true adventure!

Anonymous said...

Crazy to think of him riding bare-backed as it were! I have a very funny image in my head. k.