Saturday, 3 February 2018

The Jangerwoe And The Sonnerbrow

All alone in the Jibwar she walks,
Her head held by strings,
That reach and twirl and twine,
And pull her step by jolting step,

The dawn chorus wake,
And let our their quarks and snirls,
Closing and shutting,
Reaching and scrunching,

Below the boughs of the great Cantwo,
Small Crinkles leap and jump,
Spreading their thoughts like dances,
Across the mildew covered ground,

Then out of the swirling fog,
Comes the snarling Jangerwoe,
Creeping and sneaking,
Whining and grine-ing,

Only in the faint light of the Bulborpour,
Can the Sonnerbrow see his foe,
His jewelled eyes wandering low,
His testing snout held high,

In much the way of things that come to pass, 
The old and young must flee, 
And as the beasts begin their dance, 
A hush falls over the Jibwar,

The Gibgab and the Periwonk,
The Mellirmot and the Rancidune,
The Hatchpen the Flurcus and the Crinkles,
All cease their noise and cower low,

Amongst the shadows she fearlessly walks, 
And she is all that is not still,
Blithely she sings only to the song inside her head,
Her eyes as milk as snow,

And in the darkness trembles stir,
Weaving and knotting and linking,
As the the Jangerwoe takes his stance,
And the Sonnerbrow prepares for war,

A flash of noise and a crash of light,
Illuminate the ring, 
As beast stalks beast around and round,
And the Moorweves tendrils sing, 

The fight is long and bloody,
As teeth and claws do slash,
And rip the nightscape at the seams,
And scatter red like paint,

The ends and tips and flares light up,
And scatter patterns far,
As the beasts below writhe and swipe,
Their victory locked in flair,

Until at last with a crack like thunder,
The Jangerwoe stands tall,
His triumphant roar resounding, 
His opponent dead upon the floor,

Yet even that sound which echoed,
Did nothing to turn her silver hair,
And on and on she skipped and tripped,
Her wandering hands her guiding,

His duty done the Jangerwoe released,
Pushing away from his place of success, 
He retraced his steps to the fog he'd left,
And took with him his crown,

And all around the Jibwar Proons did merlow,
And the little Crinkles reappear,
Sniffling and snuffling through the Moorweves tendrils, 
To the Sonnerbrow's body steal,

Under cover of darkness the Jibwars secrets held,
And from the depths and holes and corners,
Came all those hidden both big and small, 
To gather there where giants fought,

With one beast dead and the other gone, 
The rest were free to pick,
And each chose one little part, 
Of the Sonnerbrow for themselves,

The Lilper took a jewel from the eye, 
The Cantypi took a hair from the head,
The Flanten took a claw as long as a hand, 
And Crinkles shared the tongue,

When all was said and done,
And every scrap of Sonnerbrow claimed, 
There lay upon the ground nothing left to tell, 
Save the mark of crumpled earth and time,

As the moonglabes glittered,
And the sparnfroes swayed,
The Jangerwoe slipped into sleep, 
And the Jibwar's peace fell upon it once more,

Amid the rocking raucous noise,
Of Perriwars Ornaths and Sloozes,
The milk eyed girl wandered on, 
Her mindful song her voiceless guide. 

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