Satyric Love

Once upon… it was said by a fairy tale,
There lived a boy who had a hairy tail.
It wasn’t at all a misbecoming feature,
Only he was a lil woodland creature.

He was a lil faun, living among men,
Doubtlessly, he differed from them.
With a pail face and brown hairy chest,
His smiling eyes owned berryness.

Our nameless satyr was always jolly,
Was always thinking of some folly.
He was always jingling stupid riddles,
But he was alone with his giggles.

“Who doesn’t like the lilly-little,
Will never deserve any bibi-bigger.
I used to like my little hooves,
Why my butt deserves the boots?”

Being the little victim of our yarn,
He spent his whole life around the barn.
He was the famous hero of the hay,
Everyone giggled seeing his own ballet.

His whole life went to a disaster,
Due to the daughter of his master.
The noble princess played a role,
Playing with the poor creature’s soul.

She, without her father’s knowing,
Visited the faun as they were growing.
Scarcely was her reason intimate,
Whereas, she had been his only mate.

The folly faun had none to follow,
Only the girl been mean and hollow.
The whole court knew their secret,
That the mistress had a hairy pigglet.

Once, in the highlight of the noble mass,
The faunny guy made a confess.
He aimed the king of the great palace:
“Oh crowny daddy and other fellas..”

“I am serious for the first time;
My heart hurts as a wound from the lime.
I have found the mate of my life,
The faith has written you as my wife!”

The poor fellow aimed the girl with a rose,
From the mass a huge laugther arose.
“Don’t be so mad, dear daddy of the crown,
Your daughter will make happy this faun.”

The mass kept joking on this scene,
And the royal members’ silent scream.
“Don’t be so shocked, noble castle,
The palace will be stabled by this cattle.”

Here, the guards caught the creature,
With sharp words on his feature.
The king angrily ordered to exile for that,
But the princess cried for his death.

Since the sun was already going down,
They sent him to the prison of the town.
Tomorrow will surely bring a solution,
Even if it’s the poor creature’s execution.

Is this the unhappy end of our riddle,
An execution under a sad song of a fiddle?
Or maybe the prison hid another page,
Like a magical transformation of a mage?

Our satyr could turn into a prince,
Marrying the girl, being happy ever since.
Or he could escape from the cells,
Finding joy in drinks, drugs and belles.

But he only wanted to wait the morrow,
By the guillotine ceasing his sorrow.
The only thought he had, he had to die,
Then, he saw a lonely butterfly.

A joyful song was sung by the moth;
However, it had not even mouth:
“You are a noble satyr, not a stranger,
Your home and love is the nature.”

By the words, our hero woke up: “Yay!”
“I won’t be her husband, nor fiancé!
I am a free faun who needs no brides!”
And the man ran into the wilds…

The wedding guests – without being rude –
Asked: “why the groom ran away nude?”
“Why he is flirting with every single tree,
Answering nature’s call while we see…”

He was singing a stupid song, having fun:
“I will be only the nature’s funny fan,
No more problems of marrying my love,
When my beloved is merely a dove!”

Benyamin Bensalah

20.09.2016

The heartless regime

Once upon a time, there’s been,
In the animal world;
A heartless king, named Lionard,
Who must own all last words.

King Lionard – king of the forest,
Was well-well known woodwide;
From his strong determinations,
No animal could hide.

Be the snake under the bushes,
Be the dog on the yard;
Be any animal near the forest,
None could ‘scape Lionard.

           ***

B’ing rather fear’d than respected:
His words couldn’t be muted;
Woe is the poor one failing them,
For b’ing executed.

King Lionard had no mercy,
It was ever well-known;
Woe is the poor underling – who,
For last, might see his crown.

In a clumsy day, it happened:
Lord Wulf was called to see;
“I am starving, bring me to eat,
Or else, I will eat thee.”

           ***

Wulf – the Lord Chancellor was mad,
Madly running for a loan;
Tho, the council had one counsel:
“Thou are on thy own.”

Wulf in despair combed the forest,
If he could find a prey;
That time, he met Oxie – the bull,
Wulf aimed him with a pray:

“Oh, Oxie! You look dead uneased,
But I have solution;
Yor weight may kill you today -but,
I have magic potion.”

           ***

Oxie – the bull, followed Wulf’s lead,
“My friend may melt your lard!”
From a wood to a wood, walking,
Till they faced Lionard!

The famished king jumped up quickly,
Making escape the bull;
“Oh, king! Why you’ve done that?” Said Wulf,
Running after the bull.

Wulf reached Oxie, praying again:
“Stop! You’ll miss yor massage!”
“Wasn’t he to kill me?” asked the bull,
“Nah! You’ll see it’s massage!”

           ***

King Lionard devoured the half,
Then, said: “I need to drink-
You will be surveying my meat.”
Then, left him a blink.

Wulf – b’ing hungry itself – must move:
After a quick looking,
He ate up the heart of the bull,
When arrived the fooled king:

“You ate my part, the heart! You’ll die!”
Scream’d the king. “No, Highness! –
In fact that the bull came back, No!
No! It must be heartless!”

Benyamin Bensalah

28.09.2017

The Market of Kabool

There’s a story… horror story,
I wish to tell you, kids.
Listening it… is dangerous:
To you and to your kids.

But if y’ave enough courage,
Or maybe y’er a fool…
You can listen to my story,
“The Market of Kabool”.

So, you listen – but keep in mind:
I warned you more than twice,
I myself am a merchant there…
And we are playing dice.

***

Yo’r curious of that market,
Are you, my little lad?
Yo know – you can’t see it before…
‘fore that you reached your bed.

“Welcome in the market of dreams!”
But too much I gave ‘way…
I’m ‘fraid I forgot to tell you:
For every word you’ll pay.

Nah, am joking – it might be free,
If we will have a deal:
Trade a story for a nightmare,
It’s fine! How do ya feel?

***

Once upon, might live two siblings:
Mary and a boy – Wright,
Little kids with many day-dreams,
But Wright had none at night.

The boy wished for dreams and dreaming-
As he flies, runs and sails,
So, he went to an old bookstore,
Diving in fairy-tales.

There was an old book, appealing,
Having a latent chant:
“Welcome in the market of dreams!”
Said the pleasing merchant.

***

Day and night, he’s reading the book,
“The Market of Kabool”,
Wright could not talk about other,
But the goods of the fool.

“Broomsticks flying, ties of lying,
Potions stop your cough!”
While Mary had no rest for days –
At once, she knocked him off.

Broomsticks flying, ties of lying,
At once, they were real!
“Welcome in the market of dreams!
It’s time to make a deal!”

***

Wandering in the market’s lights,
Wright’s sight was stupified;
Seeing magic, colours and more-
And more things he ne’er tried.

For the first- he wanted some fun-
To buy a Nimbus ‘Leet,
He realized had no cash when –
He heard “Pay with your teeth.”

The lil Wright amused all the night,
With all the tooth-cost toys.
“It’s just a dream” – he said, then thought:
“I’ll bring sis here to rejoice!”

***

The morning, the boy imploring,
Annoyed his sister with-
The bought book of slumberous charms,
Reading it with smooth rhythm:

“Welcome in the market of dreams!”
The girl was scared that night,
While Wright was on the top of shops,
She just cried: “Wait, Wright! Wright!”

The market closing, she was gone,
He found her bed void, too…
He cried toothless all day, then night
Shouting loudly: “Kaboo..”

***

“This is the market of Kabool!”
Ugly and evil fields-
Where they traded my sister back,
For all of my kids’ dreams.

Only thirty years afterwards,
I remembered back it;
My kids asking: “What is a dream,
Dad, we never had it.”

Then, I told them a bed-story,
How Kabool got me hexed-
They had a wondrous dream that night,
So, you may be the next.

Benyamin Bensalah

15.09.2017