The Times Still Change – A Ballad

The times still change,

And none know of absolutely all

Of what will come, and came.

Ancient, medieval, and modern are but names,

But for those living yet longer ago,

Their past, is still humane;

And even more so they couldn’t,

Marvel at the present, world mundane.

In that world, by mother nature wrought,

Sat one of her young creations, and thought.

At its due time, will the sun rise,

And drive away the dark silence,

The mother of the wise.

To appease hunger, he will have to go forth,

Out of his cave and over yon lake,

To the jungle, to the north.

But our friend wasn’t one to defeat the brave,

Even before all the food in the world,

It was his life, which he would first save.

His pangs of hunger growing strong,

And what with the mice’s dance coming along,

Our man was forced to venture,

And thus, he embarked on this very adventure.

The tools of trade he must not forget,

Arrows, and spears and all the rest.

Plus, a little hard work and sweat,

And his work will be done in the way best.

Now he walked in the hot sun,

Thinking being at home was the most fun.

You could roll and lie and chill,

In that cool cave on the side of the hill,

And no one to frighten you about,

To roar and trumpet and turn you out.

To the edge of the jungle he now reached,

With his courage now finally breached,

Just as he turned to go back,

A sound behind him made him sag.

A host of familiar sounds came to his ears,

He shaded his eyes and searched,

But his feet felt them first,

The tremors, before the trumpeting, he heard.

A host of woollies coming his way,

Made the ground heave and sway,

And he looked at the forest in utter despair,

As that was the way he must now repair.

So just as the beasts came into view,

Our young friend literally flew,

Into to the forest which he dreaded,

But now he only saw that that was needed.

The mammoths out of hearing,

Our friend reached a clearing.

Scared to death knowing not what to do,

He heard a distinct Ku-who, Ku-who.

Looking up, he espied a bird,

and knew it was its sound that he had heard.

A long, yellow beak and a big white tail,

With a red crest on her head, just like a sail.

And exactly opposite to a dark night,

She had a big body, pure and white.

Her amber eyes shone like fire,

And she wanted to know,

What our great friend desired.

She said, “Tell me what you want.

Do not be afraid and talk to me

As freely as if I were your aunt.”

Feeling brave,

“O great bird”, said our great friend,

“I have never seen anything as beautiful as you.

So, pray, descend.”

She said, “That I will not do,

For I not yet know, who are you.”

“Then listen, my friend”, our man replied,

“I need to find food and the way home,

Lest the darkness falls betimes.”

“Food easily you will get,

But your home, I know,

Will come after a long distance is met.”

“Then please show me the way,

My friend”, said he.

“Then listen carefully.”,

Replied she.

“Go straight north to quench your thirst,

Then turn west to food and mirth,

Then turn east to go home,

But remember to thank me first.”

“That I will, my great friend,

I thank you from all my heart,

But I am hungry, so it is to the west,

That I will first start.”

And so, he started to the west,

He found some fruits there and ate it,

I need not tell you the rest.

His forty winks now turned to eighty,

The night already fallen,

But our friend was snoring mighty,

And did not know the trouble he had begotten.

There was no electricity then,

Nor could he have seen the stars,

For the vast canopy of trees covered his fate,

Just like the warring mars.

Our hypersomnic just now awoke,

With a hell of a start,

And rubbed his eyes and realised with horror,

That he was not at all smart.

He got up and staggered around,

But there were no stars, no bird,

Nothing, that he found.

Trembling with fear he turned back,

And started walking straight,

And to a weak amble was reduced,

His cocksure gait.

He started thinking how dangerous,

Was the jungle at night,

Pitch dark and apparently ferocious,

Even by the moon which gave out bright light.

A strong wind blew,

Chilling him to his bones.

Above him an owl flew,

Hoots sounding like moans.

The tall trees stood there,

Like forlorn hosts,

Their guests followed suit,

 Whispering at most.

A ray of hope shone in front,

Our friend went towards it,

He had a huge problem,

And the moon was to fix it.

The moon was high in the sky,

Definitely towards west.

Out friend now had to turn,

Towards the east,

To the place of his rest.

He about turned and ran straight,

Forgetting that it was so late.

Over the bushes and under the trees,

And through a wide pond,

With water up to his knees.

He came out of the forest into a clearing,

And saw a hill with a cave,

Which he knew contained his dear things.

He ran with a cry of joy,

Even louder than that of a little girl or a boy.

He climbed the hill and into his cave,

And saw everything was still,

Written safely to his name.

From the forest came a roar.

But for all he cared,

He just thanked the moon,

For having his life spared.

He lay down to sleep and slept tight,

After all, the next day,

He would again have to face mother nature’s might.

Outro:

I hope you liked ‘Times Still Change’. It might not be a very high-level poem, but it was quite fun to write. Anyways, if you liked the poem or believe that the times still change, please consider subscribing to the blog. Until next time, au revoir!