To Foes Arose

by

j. whitfield gurley

I lay asleep, in dreams did soak,
when harshly from my sleep was woke
by violent, wrenching, shaking strokes
of GIANT, PURPLE ARTICHOKES!

"Get back, vile fiends! Your plot is done!"
I screamed in hopes that I could stun,
when in my face they waved their guns
and said, "You're only dreaming, son."

"You lie!" I cried, then leapt onto
a passing three-horned waterloo.
I thrashed and slashed, my marks were true,
but fought in vain - their numbers grew.

Oh, what an awful time I had
escaping from their grasp, egad!
I soon fell prey, now driven mad,
gave up my fight. "Good morning, Dad."