• skeletorfw@lemmy.world
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    1 year ago

    Young son, whist here and listen to your grand old father’s tale

    Be careful with your name, my lad, 'round monsters from the pale

    For one day it was Skeletor who stopped past my front door

    I let him in, stole most my name, and put his own before!

  • Lakija@lemmy.world
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    1 year ago

    A little nonsense created in childhood
    To moniker a character in my brain
    Who was everything I saw as cool
    A name with no meaning at all
    Except to capture her beauty
    I thought the letters perfect
    Their arrangement pretty
    And I kept her around
    And for years since
    I used her name
    Or is it mine
    I guess it
    Belongs
    To just
    Me

  • Treemaster099@pawb.social
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    1 year ago

    In the past, beyond the pale

    A forgotten story, a foreign tale

    Traversing through a mountainous wood

    A lone figure, wearing a hood

    The forest was dire, but he walked with ease

    Because he alone was the master of trees

    Branches sway to clear a street

    For any other, they would surely beat

    What was the name of that man on the hill?

    Why, none other than Tom Bombadil!

  • Treemaster099@pawb.social
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    1 year ago

    I had to do two,

    Because the first wasn’t true.

    I was a child of a young sort

    When I looked upon my porch.

    In order to cut our trees faster,

    My dad bought The Tree Master.

    It was a wood chipper with buttons and levers.

    I borrowed it’s name and thought myself clever.

    That was well over 10 years ago.

    I never came up with a new name, though.