Third Grade

Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master,
Lays silent.
Plastic phalanges pinched tightly
Between the dreaded rosebush thorns.
An epic battle between good and evil
Teetered in the hands of a third-grade-god.
What once had been the only safe place
For an Ewok village,
Was now overrun -
A mismatched army of super-villains.

Zartan, Saruman, and an unknown camo-rocket-man,
Stood as watchful sentries;
The sultry Baroness sat discarded below,
An unwanted figure in the Dark Militia.
Venom, the ominous overlord, nowhere in sight.

Then!
With all the martial skills one human could pack into a lifetime,
Qui-Gon Jinn sprung from the barbed bush,
Pricking, ever slightly, the controllers hand.

”Stupid holy banana bush.”

With lightening moves
Zartan’s neck spun to-far-for-living;
his hinged knees dropped to the ground.
Saruman was quick to respond
And with the deepest voice a tenor can muster,
He called-forth the black magic of Sauron.
The force however, delivered Qui-Gon,
And a swift saber drove Saruman
To the gates of hell.
The lone missile-marksman guarded the Ewok home,
But, so lacking in skill and cool-gadgetries,
He suffered a massive heart attack and died.
Qui-Gon Jinn, had taken back what once was stolen.
So he thought.

BOOM

With deadly dexterity,
Venom, clad in bile’s black,
Dropped from the sky
And pinned our hero to the deck.

The villainy raged on,
Lacerating the light of life
With every articulated, symbiote blast!

“Troy! Come on, it’s time for dinner!”
“Ok. Give me just a few.”
“No. Now. And wash your hands.”
“Come on, just five more minutes…”
“I’m not going to say it again.”

Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master,
Lays silent.

(This poem is dedicated to Zach. A cool third grader who helped inspire this poem. It's also my 150th poem published online.)