Edward Jones Poet I do not know?

Unicorn In a Box

Unicorn in a Box

Now that he has his first trophy in hand
He uses the horn to survey the land
With magic blood staining its tip
A compass it is held in his grip

Telling him where the unicorns lie
And using the sight of a magical eye
Three he sees two young, and one old
To challenge them all, would be very bold

But he is ready, he knows he is blest
The secret you see, is get them at rest
So he waits until the darkness of night
Biding his time, and gathering his might

He pulls out a box from a pack on his back
In it is sand that is magic, and black
He opens the box while chanting a spell
Part of the words are “gateway to hell”

Midnight comes and he is away
Holding the box like a floral bouquet
He comes upon them all fast asleep
Closer he moves and does quietly creep

Taking the box held in his hand
Quietly chanting to the magical sand
Throwing the dust on the sleeping beasts
He calls out to hell “come gather your feasts”

Out of the box many demons do fly
The tearing of flesh as the unicorns cry
When the demons are done feasting on soul
Back into the box, into hell they do stroll

Starting a fire, and cutting a steak
From his enemy’s flesh he does partake
Picking up the now empty box
From the hair of the youngest
He fills it with locks


By Mr. E. Jones

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