How to build a Goblin army

(...and what to do with the buggers.)

First you'll need sticks
Lots of sticks, dry and twisty
Some straight, some thick
Good forked but best bendy

And grass, long grass
Cedar strips would pass
Maybe twine in a pinch
Or whatever will cinch

But now the most important part
Your goblin soldier needs a heart
For this you'll need sun ripened fruit
Though corn or root would also suit

From here their shape depends on you
Tie twisty twigs into a mass
Bind them together with the grass
Around the fruit, still clear to view

The chest is not the only place
To place it's heart - there is the face
Cherry eyes or turnip matter
Corny teeth that grin and chatter

Within their noggin' of twig and grass
With crooked smile and tattered ears
The size of which should be quite large
Their sight's not good, they mostly hears

And if you want, I won't forbid
Because we all were once a kid
A pumpkin could of course replace
The entire chore to build their face

Claws of hooked or spidery twigs
With stumpy legs or chicken feet
Some hair, some horns, some spikes, some hooves
Then clothed in rags or suits of leaves

As one by one your army stands
From summer's refuse with your hands
Set them about the yard to guard
'Gainst other marauding goblin bands

They keep you safe, these hobs of sticks
But host, be wary of their tricks
For idle goblins don't keep still
They'll seek mischief, you know they will

I've found it's best to keep in mind
They like to dance, they like to sing
So turn them from their naughty thoughts
With drums to beat and bells to ring

They'll make a racket, to be sure
But it beats bagfuls of manure
A screech, a clang, a thump, a squeal
Distracts them from what they might steal

Too soon you'll hear your neighbors gripe
Of rubbish air with lots of flies
Which tells you that their hearts are ripe
For goblin march on goblin's night

Goblins are not a peaceful folk
A tribe of them is met with dread
But arm them still, because they're food
And must ward off the nibbling dead

On sunset of that hallowed eve
Observe them lined up in the leaves
To march to war against their foes
With tin can drums and twiggy bows

They'll halt all pranks upon your land
'cept those that come from their own band
They'll dance and wail, and without fail
Their party will get out of hand

Until the leader of the troop
(The one that wears the pumpkin head)
Stands up and signals to the group
To march abroad and meet the dead

When morning breaks, their time is done
Their march and wailing song are through
There's only one thing left to do
Burn or plant them
It's up to you


[And on that note, the Autumn 2010 Goblin Fruit edition launched yesterday, and it's awesome!  Ironically, the lead poem this quarter is someone's direct take on the concept of 'Goblin Fruit', titled... 'Goblined Fruit' by S.L. Vitale.  It's very good.  Clearly, 'How To Build a Goblin Army' happens to be my own take on the concept of 'Goblin Fruit' (Where, in this case, the goblins are the fruit). I'd just like to point out that Blogspot tells me I started the draft of this poem on 8/16 and then set it aside for the Halloween season, so unlike Briar Queen (which grew from me being unconsciously haunted by their Summer edition's 'The Blackberry Boy' by Ruby Katigbak), this time around the similarity is pure synchronicity... ]