The 50K/100 Contest: Last Call For Entries

Milords and Ladies, today until midnight, MST, is the last day to play Mad Padre Wargames' 50,000 pageview/100 follower contest. Three 28mm miniatures will go to those whose names are drawn at random, and a fourth will go to the poem that most tickles the fancy of Madame Padre. The minis are 98% finished and will be posted here shortly. If you want to play, and I pray you do, the contest rules are here. Here are the entries thus far:

The very first entry, from Colonel Scipio:

"One night with gusto, and derring-do,
Young Igor went a-searching,
He packed his Mauser, still brand new,
And to The Castle, went a-lurching.

The Castle was crammed, with evil deeds,
Of course, young Igor knew.
"Strasser's evil grows like weeds,
And hangs in the air, like dew!"

But as he approached this old, grim fortress,
He came across a man,
Dressed in sturdy battledress,
And named just 'Padre Tristram'.

"Look here my man! Now can't you see!"
He cried, turning to depart,
"The Count's displeased, he ought to be,
This stake's marked for his heart!"

As Igor watched, some other fellows,
Trudged upwards, t'wards the top,
'"WE'RE 'S' COMMANDO!", so they bellowed,
"And the Count is for the chop!"

So, satisfied, he began to head,
Down the mountain at a jog:
If there's one thing BETTER than slaying undead,
It's reading it on the blog!"

From Archdule Piccolo, composed while defoliating down under:

"How doth the Mad Padre
improve his shining blog,
With Chronicles of Commando 'S',
and the missions that they log.

How sweetly he seems to grin,
How carefully loads his gun,
And laughs with joy as the lead goes in:
Shooting zombies can be such fun."

A Spanish language entry from Annibal Invictus:

"De allende el mar nos llega
El blog del padre Miguel
El cura-soldado kanuck
Que a soldaditos juega

Su comando especial británico
A las criptas ha bajado
A erradicar al maligno
Y a otros seres malditos

Pero Oh! Cielos!
Ni zombies, ni diablos
Una vampiresa insinuante
Dicen, de rojo pasión vestida
Pero yo más bien diría… ¡desnuda!

Padre Miguel, qué cosas pintas!
En estas latitudes hispanas
Ya te habrían excomulgado
Rouco y sus secuaces

------------------- PS: Rouco is the head of the Spanish Catholic Episcopal Conference"

And a translation via Google Translate:

"From across the sea comes
The blog of Father Miguel
The priest-soldier kanuck
That plays soldiers

His special command British
A crypt is down
To eradicate the evil
And other beings cursed
But Oh! Heavens!
Neither zombies or hell
A flirtatious vamp
They say, of red dressed
But I would rather say ... naked!

Father Miguel, what things pints (err, paints? MP?!
In these latitudes Hispanic
Now you have excommunicated
Rouco and his henchmen"

From the flat-out whimsical Krista Johns, charming wife of my favourite tanker:

"I'm not much of a gamer
As you will duly note
But I felt the need to put
My feelings into rote

It's not too often that I find
A site worth browsing through
But here I see your artist's eye
And I'm inclined to favour you

So now I leave my little poesy
With a bright and cheery grin
By saying it's wonderful to keep up
With one of my favourite men!

[The others, as I should point out,
Are the one to whom I'm wed
And the one who looks just like him
But taller by a head"

A very clever and elegant sonnet from Mike Whittaker:

The Padre needs a comment that's in verse
A line or two from follower and friend
A limerick perhaps, or would he be averse
To something cleverer, a fancy blend
Of sonnet form, the pref'rence of the Bard
With rhyming scheme that drives me round the bend.
It's not that Terza Rima's really hard,
though interwoven rhymes can drive you mad,
and form, belov'd of Dante, leave you scarred.
Still, hopefully, this poem's not too bad,
And will show my admiration for your blog,
(I'm dodging rhyming with that word: I'm glad.)
And in the end, things could have been much worse:
Fourteen lines is, after all, quite terse.

Self-described "free verse doggerel from a no-talent poet and trombonist", Grenzer John, another wargaming pastor:

"Hey, Diddle, Diddle;
The Cat and the Fiddle;
the Padre is over the moon.
The Puppy Dog laughed to see such fun
and the bishop will never find out what you paint... 'specially that Weird War chaplaincy stuff."

A meditation on the fickle dice gods from Mr VBCW, PanzerKaput:

"God by on your side
When you first off to battle you go
For if you do not pray hard enough
The dice Gods will surely show
With rulers and rules, and dice and bags
The table will surely be filled
But if you don't pray hard enough
Your opponent will surely will
Remember the dice Gods are strange and fickle
Then will is all of there own
And to win the day its good to help
So a prayer would surely show.

Howard Han channels his oriental savoir faire to produce this haiku:

"Painting minis is fun.
Mike's blog makes it doubly so!
Weird war two, anyone!"

A fine Irish mashup from Monty:

"As I was going over the Saint Elias Mountains,
I met with a Mad Padre and his paint pots he was counting,
He first produced his paint brush and then produced his palette,
Saying "Lend me a fiver, for at home I've left me wallet,"
Write for your bloggio,
Write for your bloggio,
There's acrylics in the jar!"

From Dux Homunculorum:

"A padre with a brolly
is both whimsical and jolly,
but the godly man has duties more severe.

Like warding off a temptress,
nubile and nearly dress-less:
But does he really need to stand so very near?"

From Chris Stoesen, a nice riff on my ongoing ACW PBEM campaign:

Men of the South must rise
For the Yankees are coming with size
Bluffsburg is at play
Can Hatcher hold them at bay
Until our reinforcements arrive.
Our ironclads paddle
to victory in battle
both Joshua and Maccabee
pursue north to see
Just what the Mississippi might hide
At the Guntown affair
we held on by a hair
Be we await the results and abide.

From Peter Douglas:

There once was a Padre out West
Who thought his gaming the best
So came out to Curt's
To trade bruising and hurts
And we put his gaming to test!

From Wargames News and Terrain, a fine tribute to my recently shown Soviet Cossacks:

"Fierce horseman from the steppe
Dressed blue and red
Horse trotting
Head proud high
Ready to die"