And Today the Great Twilight, That Marvellous She
In a morning in summer, the end of time-off,
Wakes a meek little mare with a groan and a cough.
The alarm it did thunder and rang it did clang,
On the floor laid a dragon who felt a great pang.
The baby young dragon, for that was his age,
Had turned and had tumbled; this was not a good day.
For today would be Twilight’s inaugural hours,
On a job that involved sorting books; for them scour.
But our little pony, as fast as she could,
Hurried and dashed far more than she should.
“All librarians aware of the task they will take,”
So she said, “must prepare; oh the books are at stake!”
And soon Twilight was prepped and prepared to prepare,
But preparing is taxing for young little mares.
All the lists and the listing of tasks she will list,
Still the listed requirements could rival a Liszt.
Scribble scribble, rattle rattle
Pen in hoof, rattle--
“THAT WILL DO!” shouted Spike from the comfort of bed,
“If you wanted a list then oh why haven't you said?
I have claws on my hands and I've claws on my feet,
I could write with my toes for the sake of good Pete!”
“And who’s Pete?” asked poor Twilight who knew not what he meant,
“Is he tall, is he small, is he bad or a friend?”
Then Spike he replied with a sneer and a scowl,
“Do you want me to write up a list? Quiet down!”
You see, dragons they’re EVER so grouchy at dawn,
‘Cause they need lots of sleep to be ready for chores.
But Spike who proclaimed how so generous was he,
Did note down a list of the tasks she’d complete.
The first of the shelves our miss Twilight must sort,
Preclassical History, but not Starswirl's Reports.
At least it was small; there were few books to search,
So when Twilight was ready she dashed off to work.
“Oh I’m SURE that it won’t be a problem,” she thought,
“There’s NO need to worry, no, NOTHING at ALL.”
But upon the mere sight of the bookshelf so high,
Realised that the dragon had blatantly LIED.
So tall it had stood since old ponies grew oats,
It was clear that success would be something to boast.
Oh but what if she failed? Oh the princess would rage
If she could not complete it by the end of the day.
All the years she has spent down and under her wing,
Would be all but for naught if she didn't a-think.
After many a ponder, no clue what to do,
Popped up an idea of how to sort through.
“I will take all the books, take them out of the shelf,
I will climb and I’ll climb; I won’t need any help!
I can sort through these books, and I’ll do it myself!”
So she went to the ladder, which lay on the floor,
And she pulled and she pulled, but it couldn't be hauled.
Unicorns do have magic, most definitely she,
~~(For she is considered to be grossly OP.)~~
With a glow of her horn she removed it with ease.
Turning, twisting, spinning, twirling,
The ladder knocked the other shelves,
Like dominoes they fell all by themselves!
Oh, what a disaster poor Twilight had made!
There were books on the floor; both youthful and aged.
This wasn't what Twilight intended to wreak,
She delved in too deep and, well that’s what she reaped.
But of course, that was false, that was wrong and untrue,
This was only a setback, for an hour or two.
She would sort it all out, oh she would, yes she would,
By the end of the day she’d have cleaned up the room.
“Oh I’m SURE that it won't be a problem,” she thought,
“There’s NO need to worry, no, NOTHING at ALL.
I will climb and I'll climb; I won’t need any help!
I can sort through these books, and I'll do it myself!”
But before she could cast her quick tidy-up spell,
In came a bespectacled foal named Who Elle.
Yet before she could enter she saw all the ruin,
And galloped Who Elle, for her parents would listen.
Soon Who Elle had found her parents at work,
She found her parents called Who Him and Who Her,
Along with Who Il, Who Elle’s baby brother.
If you stacked them all up they'd be ONE foot together.
And Who Il he was crying and crying he was,
While Who Him and Who Her were a-trying to hush.
“A library NEVER has noise in its walls!” cried Who Him.
But he’d broken that rule so Who Her made him zip.
Yet still Twilight was trying to put the shelves back,
But her small pony hooves were too small to do that.
So instead she did try to use magic once more,
But it knocked down the shelves that remained standing tall.
“So MUCH worse!” cried Twilight, “but I can fix it if I--”
“Don’t you even DARE try!”
Who Him his voice bellowed with mere utter calm.
“You busted!” Who Il did proclaim in Her’s arms.
And Who Her she was shocked, she could not believe her ears,
When she heard colt Who Il say his FIRST words for real.
All the same, it seemed Twilight was caught on day one,
Causing havoc and nuisance since when she begun.
But Celestia descended from sky to the wing,
And was not very happy; not one little bit.
The princess, so radiant, bid the Whos gone
Who Him and Who Her, Il and Elle went along.
Now remained both the student and mentor plus mess,
“Why DID you attempt to correct this yourself?”
“I thought that I could,” said poor Twilight who nickered,
“I was SURE that I could,” not meaning to bicker.
“Well, look and you’ll see what you did with poor reas'ning,”
Said Celestia, “Look at this mess that needs cleaning!”
“And that’s for a start: you had so much to do,
So much which you never, in fact, did do.”
And Twilight she grovelled and begged and she pleaded,
But Celestia looked like she knew all she needed,
To send her away to far-flung great kingdoms,
Like Manticoroo or the Great-Great-Moondum.
The Great-Great-Moondum, where they spend lots of days,
Frolicking, moontanning and many fun ways,
Of singing 'bout dust or craters or seas,
“Oh please don’t send me there;
Oh Your Highness don’t please!”
“Just why would I ever do that to my student?
I know you meant well; next time PLEASE be more prudent.
I want only that when you arrive on Tuesday,
You will ask for assistance if that’s what will aid.”
And today the great Twilight, that marvellous she,
Works hard in the library, the best she can be.
No matter the town, and no matter the time,
There is always some work for the poor, young Spike.
Author's Note
Note: It's Who 'il' in case your font is making uppercase I's and lowercase L's look the same.
A few days before this was posted, through chance I had managed to rediscover the works of Dr Seuss just by reading up on what meters I would like to write a poem for.
The majority of Dr Seuss' poetry is written in anapestic tetrameter, which is where the stress of the syllables repeats da-da-DUM four times per line. Also used was amphibrachic tetrameter (da-DUM-da), and occasionally trochees (DUM-da) which may be mixed with iambs (da-DUM). He would also frequently either add a syllable at the end or take one away from the beginning, which I likewise do a lot (mainly taking away however, and sometimes I take one from the end instead). This is essentially the information that's available on my blog post poem on Dr Seuss' style, conveniently written... in his style.
Slap on couplets (and come up with some really painful rhymes :P), add a family of Who ponies, discover you have a moral about halfway through writing it, canter-lock for emphasis, add general whimsicality and woohoo! This is what turned out. Though it has to be said that I don't stop myself at times from using language young kids might not understand (e.g. "inaugural"), but meh.
