FIRST PLACE
NIGHT OF THE 6-FOOT TERROR
by Rodhlann O'Ceallachain

I can't forget that fateful night,
When I stood guard by dim firelight.
For the Ides of March were done,
And great victories been won.
But unbeknownst to us, our King
Had set great warning bells to ring
'Twas wise, as well, this royal plan
To warn us, else we might have ran
From that plot to make us weak.
Our first clue was a mighty squeak!
As the bells began to ring,
We saw six-foot plague rats marching!
Their drummers playing an eerie beat,
Accompanied by great clawed feet.
Through stricken by the ghostly sight,
We drew our blades and moved to fight.
The horrid rats smiled at our ranks,
And moved their knights to charge our flanks.
Their bow-rats cried inhuman calls,
and hammered us with arrow falls.
With that strike, their force did charge-
I'd never seen a rat so large!
The battle raged, for far too long.
But how could we fight such a wrong?
Our doom was close, the end was near-
When we heard a rousing cheer!
A single hero braved the horde-
Scattered knights, slew their lord:
Our guard, at last, drove them away,
And we saw who saved the day.
The hero who had slain the rat
Was in fact, the butcher's cat.

ODE TO A PLAGUE RAT
by Kirstin Hoschar

Silken fir and eyes so bright
Passes silent in the dead of night
Share with us your cursed pest
The slip away to your own wee nest.
And when they call, "Bring out your dead!"
Carry yours out to the wagon's bed
Then, move through briar, thatch, and fence
You, Oh rat, of pestilence
--Move on!

PLAGUE RAT POEM
by Lady Bronwen Huntress

Pitter Patter
Here they come
Making a Mess
'Til the day is done
Itchy Nasty
Full of mites
They live in your house
And they Like to bite knights.
Pretty Soon
You will fall ill
Sick as a Dog
To the plague rat's will
For the Plague
They do carry
And with one small bite
Another death does not tarry
You cannot Run
And there is no might
That will say you from
The Plague rat's bite.

PLAGUE RAT HAIKU
by Wiat the Odd

The rat sits brown, idle
Scratching pesky fleas, scratch, scratch
What are those black spots

ODE TO A PLAGUE RAT
by Padrig O Connell

Oh squeaking creature, on the crawl,
Foul nesting rodent, in the walls.
Vile flesh of pox-ridden death,
Hide in your fur, and your foul breath
From ship to shore, city and town,
Rich and small, all taken down.
Death of what was, in what is,
While we drown our fears in the local inn.