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The Princess And The Pirate

Dear grandson let me read a tale!
Of love lost 'neath a pirate's sail!
Or so young Buttercup believed,
Based on the message she received!

But time moved on after that day,
After her farm boy passed away,
Killed by a legend, I'm afraid,
By the Dread Pirate Roberts blade!

Now Humperdinck, that loathsome prince,
Had been her suitor ever since.
She didn't love him, and he knew,
He didn't care if it was true!

The prince was an unpleasant man,
And she was just part of his plan,
To bring his neighbor Guilder down,
And so he hired some loud mouthed clown,

To take his bride to Guilder's lands,
And kill her there with his own hands!
Vizzini was a craven snoot,
Who hired a swordsman and a brute,

To help him with the prince's scheme!
He thought they'd make a mighty team!
So, as they sailed, and ate their meals,
Through waters filled with shrieking eels,

They spotted someone in pursuit,
It was a pirate's ship to boot!
They sailed quickly through the night,
And reached the shore by morning's light!

This was no normal shore you see,
It's the Cliffs of insanity!
None but the brute could climb that rope,
At least that's what Vizzini hoped!

But this was inconceivable,
Completely unbelievable,
This Man in Black was closing in!
Engaging in pursuit again!

When Fezzik got them to the top,
Vizzini thought that he could stop
This Man in black's attempt to save
Their captive from an early grave.

But he held on, climbing the face,
So Inigo remained in place!
If this pirate refused to drop,
He'd slay him when he reached the top!

But there was no honor in that!
So he would face him in combat!
But when the masked man won the duel,
Poor Inigo felt like a fool!

The Man in Black met Fezzik next.
And this would leave the giant vexed!
The pirate choked the giant out!
A loss that left the brute in doubt!

Vizzini was his final foe,
A clash of wits on a plateau!
A poison poured into a cup,
The loser drinks the poison up!

But there was poison in each drink,
Vizzini wouldn't even think,
The moment his lips touched the rim,
That moment was the end for him!

And so the masked man won his prize,
But she would catch him by surprise!
And push the pirate down the hill,
But his next words gave her a chill!

His "as you wish", rang through the air!
Which made her fear for his welfare!
Was it Westley, she tried to kill?
She threw her body down the hill!

The two survived with little harm,
She fell into her Westley's arms,
As Humperdinck observed their romp,
They slipped into the Fire Swamp.

The dangers of this burning bog,
Like rodents bigger than a dog,
Tried hard to undermine the two,
And yet, the lovers made it through.

But Humperdinck was waiting there,
With cruel intentions for the pair.
They put Westley in a machine,
It was a most unpleasant scene!

Then Humperdinck increased the juice,
Which built a charge, then turned it loose!
And all could hear the echoed cries,
For this is where poor Westley dies.

But he was only MOSTLY dead.
Miracle Max distinctly said!
"To blave" might bring him back to life,
So Buttercup could be his wife!

But first they had to save the day,
Count Rugen too, would have to pay!
And Humperdinck would get his due,
Before that fateful night was through!

For Inigo would kill the count,
While Fezzik rustled up some mounts,
As Westley found his legs once more,
He and the prince settled their score!

The story ended with a kiss,
There was no greater kiss than this.
A grandson asked his grandpa then,
If he'd come back and read again.

And "as you wish" was his reply
To this young apple of his eye!
"No more rhyming now! I mean it!"
"Anybody want a peanut?"

About this poem

The Story Of The Princess Bride.

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Written on 2021

Submitted by MarkS on June 23, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:02 min read

Quick analysis:

Scheme Text too long
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 3,614
Words 794
Stanzas 26
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4

Mark Spencer

My name is Mark Spencer and, off and on, I have been writing poetry since 1977. I was born in Bend, Oregon on February 7th 1959, six short days after the day the music died, along with three of its icons: Buddy Holly, J.P. Richardson (The Big Bopper), and Richie Valens. The Eisenhower administration was on its way out, and America was teetering on the brink of another war. A new administration was about to emerge under the leadership of a young Senator from Massachusetts named John F. Kennedy. He would see his country through some of its most volatile times, until his untimely death in 1963. I was raised in a small suburb of Los Angeles called Lennox. Lennox rested between Hawthorn and Inglewood and was in the flight path of the Los Angeles International Airport. My brothers and I would play a game with the approaching aircraft. We would attempt to guess which airline the planes belonged to, before they were close enough to read. The winner, of course, was the one with the most correct guesses that day. I grew up with three brothers: Bryan was closest to me in age, and I was the eldest of the four brothers. Darien came next and my youngest brother Ross completed the quartet. We were close in age, no more than two years and four months apart, but we were even closer as brothers. We were our own best friends, frequently playing together at the park or in the yard. But time passed quickly, and bygone days slipped into the archives of memory, leaving a hole in my heart. The four of us grew up, and traveled different paths, leaving the adventures of our youth behind. Yet, to this day, I find myself wishing for one more game of over-the-line. My parents were, by no means rich. Union politics kept my father out of work for a time, and my mother was forced, by circumstance, to take a job with Polaroid. Somehow we always had food on the table, a roof over our heads, and presents under the Christmas tree. My father was able to build a strong working relationship with a large contracting company and things got much better. That is, until my parents divorced in 1972. I blamed myself for my parent’s misfortune, as many children do, and I retreated inside myself. The following few years were chaotic, I rebelled against the world; so much so that my parents had to ship me off to live with my grandmother. She was the greatest influence on my life at the time, and that experience pulled me back from the edge. The path she helped to put me on opened me up to the world of creativity. I owe her more than I could ever repay. So…I write…not for me, or about me, but for her, and the topics she thought were important. So here we are today, 45 years later, and I’m still writing, still addressing those topics, still weaving a little morality into each poem. more…

All Mark Spencer poems | Mark Spencer Books

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"The Princess And The Pirate" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 29 May 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/130501/the-princess-and-the-pirate>.

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