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Rolland Gilbaugh


Kansas City, MO, US

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The Moor Beast


Rolland Gilbaugh

This poem was written for my 7 year old daughter in a book I wrote for her called For Love of Penny. It's a hand printed book bound and given to friends as a gift and dedicated to Penelope.

The fog in all it's blind disguise
Has taken way my sight.
I stumble 'cross the valley floor;
'Tis not a friendly night.

I hear the crack of broken bow;
'Twould seem I'm not alone!
The breathing of a thousand lungs,
Or is it just my own?

What's this I hear? 'Tis coming fast,
As though some giant beast
Is bearing down upon me now,
Preparing for a feast.

It's COMING! Oh! I think I'm lost,
My heart is bound to burst,
If that - whatever it might be
Don't overtake me first.

I know not where to place my feet.
I can not see the ground!
I know not be it East or West,
I only know THAT SOUND.

A TREE! You almost knocked me dead;
You owe me of your shade.
Perhaps that beast will pass me by.
Oh tree, I beg your aid!

It's almost here - it's almost here,
I pray 'twill pass me by.
I see a ghastly shadow now.
I'm not about to die!

At least I'll fight as best I can;
I'll not be taken light!
The monster may intend to win,
But not without a fight!

STAND TO! Whatever fiend you be;
I'll not be made a meal.
Be careful how you play with me.
My bite is Danen steel.

I'll fight you here and now my foe,
Or be upon your way.
I've not the time to tarry long,
So better make your play.


Stand down dear sir, I'm but a maid
Abroad upon this gloom.
I fear my horse has taken flight.
'Twas near to be my doom.

Oh brave and kindly champion
Of all the misty moor;
I owe my life to your intent,
To even out the score.

I know not who your banners blaze,
But I inscribe a star;
For none could doubt the bravery
I find in you thus far.


I'm but an humble journeyman;
A chemist by my trade.
The fog has sent me here abouts.
I'm lost I am afraid!


Kind sir, my horse, good Shadowfax
Can bear us both away.
He knows the way without his sight.
You're welcome, and away.

These mists are known to last a week,
And father waits for me.
He'll lend you transportation home;
The hero that you be.


No hero miss, but kind you be,
For such a noble stand.
I shan't be soon to find such help,
So here I take your hand.

And who are you, I'd like to ask,
If I may be so bold?
I think I've never seen that crest.
It looks to be quite old.


'Tis that indeed, my champion,
'Tis old as is the land.
I wear the colors blue and gold,
That rule this fairie-land.

You meant to tilt a fearsome beast,
And captured here a maid.
The princess I Penelope,
A story wisely played.