There came quite late in the cent'ry twenty,
An author whose works numbered a plenty.
The tales that he told brought him great success.
He has millions of fans and I must confess
That I'm a fan, too, and happily so.
For the yarns that he spins have such sights to show.
He's short in his stature and tall in his mind.
Read any of his works and you're apt to find
Collections of beasties or a creature named "It."
He offers frightful catharsis, with style and wit.
Machines that can kill and fold with strange powers
This man could find horror in the noblest of flowers.
A vampire named Barlow, an anti-saviour named Flagg
Are just two of the reasons his success will not lag.
With wealth beyond reason, it's surprising to see
This post mortem poet dresses no finer than ye.
It's refreshing to know that a man with his clout
Takes the time to remember where he started out.
He was born 'round these parts, near Boston they say.
He was raised 'round here too, 'til he moved away
To Maine. That was where his mind flourished and grew.
There's where he first wrote and learned to say "Boo!"
To his readers and started to scare them.
He goads everyone on and knows just how to dare them
To finish his book and sleep well at night...
Sleep well, that is without aid of a light.
His first name sounds plain. His last, truly royal.
As an admirer of his, I'll remain always loyal
To his writings, no matter what phantasms they bring.
For, he's a talented man. His name? Stephen King.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.