Rumble Stein gathered all the
children closer to share the grim
legend of the Manor's hidden
archives.
Rumple Stein chuckles, a dry
and rattling sound,
As the children sit quivering
upon the cold hammering ground.
"Deep in the Manor, past the grand,
winding stair,
A secret wall hides a terrible
nightmare."
He taps on the stone with a
long, yellow nail,
Spelling out the dread of a
ghostly old tale.
"Behind the dark oak sits a
library dead,
Where the screaming spirits of
old cluster over your sleepy head."
If a curious child finds the brass
hidden spring,
The wall swings wide open to
a terrifying thing.
Dusty shelves stretch forever
in shadows so deep,
Where a weeping gleaming ghost
never settled to sleep.
"Beware the old books wrapped
in velvet and lace,
And never read lullabies out
in that place!"
For the moment you whisper
those sweet bedtime rhymes,
The phantom awakens from
ancient, dark times.
She will drift from the ceiling
and freeze up your breath,
Singing a lullaby that traps
you in death.
Your sleepy eyes will heavy, your
body will twist and turn cold,
Another lost child for the
library to hold.
Rumple Stein returns with a
chilling watching about the
true price of a mission tooth.
Rumple Stein steps from the
dark corner of the room,
His crooked hands weaving a
tale of deep doom.
"Listen close, little child, as
you drift off to sleep,
There is a terrible price for
the secrets you keep."
He points a long finger at the
gap in your smile,
"The Tooth Fairy watches
your bed all the while."
"If you hide a lost tooth
underneath the white sheet,
You must leave a shiny silver
coin for her treat."
For she is no angel with soft
glowing halo wings,
But a pale, bony phantom
that silently clings.
If the coin isn't there when
she slips through the air,
She will twist all your thoughts
into frozen despair.
With sharp rusted pliers and a
cold, breathless hiss,
She will take every tooth for
the coin that you miss.
She will yank out the top and
rip out the bottom,
Leaving empty red guns
where you completely forgot
them.
Without any teeth, your soft
voice will just fade,
Trapped in the silence of the
bargain you made.
You will never speak words,
you will nevermore shout,
Once the cruel bone collector
had cleared your mouth out.
Rumple Stein has a terrifying
midnight warning for children
who look for a late- night snack.
Deep within the woods
where the old shadows grow,
Rumple Stein whispers a secret
you must know.
"Never sneak a cookie when
the midnight bell tolls,
For that is the hour when the
beast truly strolls."
His voice is like gravel, his
eyes gleam with spite,
Warning little children of the
terrors in the night.
"The Cookie Monster waits in
the dark, cold and grim,
If you steal a treat, you will
surely meet him."
A shadow will stretch out
across the kitchen floor,
As a blue furry claw softly
pushes the door.
He won't want a wafer, a chip,
or a chew,
Instead, the fierce beast will
come hunting for you!
Your bones will be crumbled
like a dry chocolate chip,
As he catches your sleeve in
his terrible grip.
With a terrifying growl from his
bottomless cup,
The hungry blue gobbler will
swallow you up!
So lock up the cookie jar when the
clock strikes the hour,
Before you are trapped in the
monster's grim power.
No crumbs will remain where
you stood on the floor,
And the kitchen will stay silent
forevermore.
"Listen closely," Rumple Stein
cackled, his yellow eyes
scanning the terrified faces
of the children huddled
around the campfire.
"A massive, hairy Bigfoot
stalks the foggy mountains,
sniffing the chilly night air for
a very specific scent."
"This towering beast
possesses a terrible, burning
fury against children who
refuse to do their homework."
"Because some kids don't do
their homework, the furious
monster swore to hunt down
every single lazy child."
"He tracks the scent of blank
pages and hidden schoolbooks
straight to your campground tents!"
"He wants to stomp slacker
kids to a pulp to punish them
for neglecting their daily education!"
He suddenly jumped to his
feet, throwing his hands high
as the wind howled through
the branches.
"And when he catches a lazy
student, "Rumple Stein roared,
"he crushes them with his giant
feet!"
The terrified children
immediately reached into
their backpacks, pulling out
their folders in absolute panic.
They frantically began
scribbling their spelling
words by the dim, flickering
light of the dying fire.
Once upon a time, Rumple
Stein sat by the glowing fire
and called the children close.
"Tonight," he whispered with
a wicked smile, "I will tell you
about the Dust- Gnasher."
This creature has skin like old
parchment and razor- sharp fingers
long enough to wrap around the
mattress.
It waits in absolute silence,
completely flattered beneath
your dark bed frame all night
long.
The moment the bedroom
lights click off, its yellow eyes
pop open in the shadows.
It listens for the sound of
deep breathing to know you
are finally fast asleep.
Then, it slowly slides out to
sniff the air, looking for tiny
bare feet hanging off the edge.
If you leave a toe uncovered,
it's cold, bristly tongue will
give it a tiny bite.
It loves to steal loose socks
and chew on plastic toys with
its full, clicking teeth.
"So tuck your blankets tightly
tonight," Rumple chuckled,
"because it is listening right
now."
Rumple Stein lit a single
flickering candle, casting
long, spooky shadows across
the cold stone walls.
"High upon the jagged cliffs
stands the forgotten castle of
Blackwood," he told the
shivering children.
"Inside its drafty halls roams
Grimtooth, an evil ghoul with
glowing green eyes and
razor- sharp claws."
The wind roared outside,
rattling the windows as if
Grimtooth himself were
trying to break inside.
He glides through the castle
dungeons, searching for
intruders who dare to touch
his cursed silver."
Suddenly, a low, scraping
sound echoed from the
fireplace, making the children
jump in terror.
"If he catches you, Rumple
Stein whispered, leaning
close, "he freezes you into a
solid stone statue!"
He mimicked a frozen face,
his arms locked stiffly in the
air, making the kids gasp
loudly.
"Only the bravest souls can
outsmart his traps and
escape the castle before the
morning sun."
With a sudden POOF, Rumple
Stein blew out the candle and
laughed, "Sleep tight, little statues!"
Rumple Stein opens his great
book of old,
Under the blanket, a tale will
unfold,
Magic and monsters and
heroes so brave,
Pointing his finger to a deep
hidden cave,
Leaving you dreaming of
secrets he gave.
During the famous Des Moines rumble
Sixteen boys landed in a giant jumble
No one bragged for they were horribly humble
Soccer ball was lost in this mad fumble
Donald Trump's bombastic grin
Stares outward, a challenge within
"Get ready to rumble," he declares bold
As his ego clashes, the world grows cold
© daniel miltz
It's me versus me
Not against anyone
It's my present against my past
Not against the world
It's my angel against my demons
Not against them demons
So I can only align with what's uplifting.
Patiently fighting
Fighting until I triumph
Fighting against my lower self
Empowering my higher self
So I can thrive with grace
Not disgrace
Giving more than I take.
It's me against my habits
Old patterns
Unlearning and relearning
Letting go all that's draining
Embodying all that's edifying
So not to fit in the box
Societal programming
Unprogramming and reprogramming myself.
Softly murmuring, the river’s raspy voice
Settles my soul with its rumbling choice,
Rustling quietly beneath a glowing moon,
Splattered by the sound of the river’s rejoice
Light trickles from stars who’re strewn
Across flirty skies where dreamers swoon,
Leaving the heart full, moaning its needs,
While witnesses tell tales much like cartoons
Roaring rapids reveal what the mind reads,
In stories of crashing winds with its dark deeds,
While the river gulps and hiccups on its course,
Promising to bring us its astounding proceeds.
Waters boom and belch, such a mighty force,
Revealing God’s strength, the only true source,
Mighty waters rip out a path like a racehorse,
One that most gamblers would surely indorse.
It's been a long time since the cicadas rumbled.
History books say 'twas eighteen hundred and three
When war struck the trees where bees sometimes bumbled.
The seventeen and thirteen boys couldn't agree.
The horror of those days can't be told in rhyme,
But that war to end wars, we may again see.
I tell you children that it's once again time.
It's history that tells us and also some math -
It's because thirteen and seventeen are prime.
For the first time since, they're headed down that path
With products and least common multiples the same,
Their hatch cycles will line up in nature's cruel wrath.
In twenty twenty-four bugs will kill and they'll maim.
Do they just need more food to all eat hearty
For them to be happy and peace to proclaim?
Be brave my lads. It's time to rumble
Jump into battle but beware the tumble.
Stay on your toes or you might stumble.
Getting lost will make your owner grumble.
Once you're all inside the enemy's lair
cling to each other so you remain a pair.
There are only two of you - none to spare,
but don't be afraid when he blows hot air.
I pray none of you will be lost in the brawl
after making it through the washer's squall.
Hang in there lads, even if you have to crawl
and soon you'll be set free, one and all.
There's something else I need to mention.
It's very important so pay close attention.
You've been suffering from water retention,
but as you spin, it will lighten your tension.
The dryer's set for one hour on the clock.
Anxiously, I'll wait with each tick and tock,
hoping I'll not lose a member of the flock,
each well-worn warrior, labeled as a sock.
Characters in action
Talents in multiplication
Shapes and sizes of many version
Skills on display with tension
Over the top ropes one would gape
Under the ropes one can escape
Apron of thick mattress
Arena of countless matches
Highlighted are dressed to kill
Fronting the crowd that fill
Seats of spectators that cheer
Feats of competitors, not jeer
Matches roll with blunder
Rumbling and grappling like thunder
Crutches and splints spread over
Bodies of the bruised fall over
Grueling matches live on
Under any pressure show must go on
It's not "business as usual" that linger
Players of theatrics in danger
Venues are slated by dates
Participants stipulated as mates
Previews of expected bouts
Reviews that excite and shouts
Year after year is the Rumble
Inside the ring that crumble
Event that sounds so noble
Fame, not fortune that bubble
A prelude to Wrestlemania
An interlude of regalia
A shot coveted in spotlight
A spot asserted with delight
Let's get ready to rumble!...
The buildings fell
one by one
Rumble rumble
To the death
came all so many
Rumble rumble
But the spirit of the remaining
came to rescue
Saving lives
An earthquake can only do so much harm
Even if it's disastrous
The will of the people will rise
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