In our Biggs and Smalls stories we created a character who could end up being my favorite ever. A Gnome Bard who writes terrible poems. This is the outlet I’ve always needed. You see, I may have the ability to write some decent poems, and occasionally even a good one, but I’m fantastic at writing terrible poems!
I decided that Gnomes, or at least Babbric the Gnome, write poems in a 7-3-7-3-7 syllable form. It’s perfectly hideous. Enjoy…
Babbric snorted then searched further in the refuse around him. At last he found a robe and pulled it over his shoulders but did not tie it in front so the most offensive bit was still in full view.
“Really?” Biggs blurted.
“Stop being so prudish,” Babbric replied, “Listen to this.” He then recited the following poem in as loud a voice as he could muster as if performing at the town’s amphitheater:
Dark ale poured into my stein
So tasty when I drink it
On my tongue
This it fills my belly up
Biggs just blinked a few times waiting for there to be more but none came. Babbric smiled broadly and put his arms out in order to embrace the praise he figured was forthcoming.