Poem

Twenty one guns strike the air
The flag is folded with precision and care
Close friends and family silently weep
While down to the dirt my bed does slowly creep
All of this could have been prevented
With just one intervention

For weeks I sat alone and hollow
Now from you falls a tear of sorrow
So fast it all did happen
My own victim, I was trapped in
You can't know what I've seen or done
Though you, too, may have held a gun

The pressures of combat
Yes they caused all of that
Conflicts fought both internal and external
Following the command of the heartless colonel
Now here I lay finally at rest
I'm sorry, Sergeant, I tried my best

Story

            Millie was a small dog, a beagle puppy of just four months old. She had been playing with her favourite soccer ball, adding more teeth holes to the flat, tattered object, when the unusually heavy wind of Nebraska stole it away from her. She chased after it, up the long, winding deserted road that was Moose Avenue, but her short, adolescent legs grew weary. Slowing to a trot she continued on until she reached the park, some three miles away from her home. Halfway through the park she came upon a squirrel waddling across the sidewalk.

            “Excuse me, sir or ma’am, but have you seen a ball anywhere?” she asked.

            “Yes,” replied the squirrel, “yes I have. I saw a ball dancing that way,” the squirrel said, pointing to the north.

            “Thank you!” said Millie, heading in the direction the squirrel had appointed her.

            “Wait,” called the squirrel. “I want to come with you. I haven’t been on an adventure all summer.”

            And with that they went prancing off across the park in search of the ball. After a while of looking, a blue jay flew down from the tall oak tree tops above, and asked what they were doing, a beagle and a squirrel together in the park.

            “The wind stole my ball, and we’re looking for it,” Millie told him.

            “Oh!” said the blue jay. “I saw one go that way a while ago, and with that he lifted his wing to the west.

            “Maybe the wind carried it that way after we started looking,” said the squirrel. And with that the three of them headed off in the direction mentioned by the blue jay.

            They searched and searched for twenty minutes, but still they could not find Millie’s ball.            “Am I ever going to find my ball?” Millie wondered aloud, sitting and dropping her head until her long snout and caramel coloured ears were just an inch about the tall, dense July grass.

            “What exactly did the ball look like?” inquired the squirrel.

            “It was a rose red soccer ball,” Millie told them. At that, a small charcoal rabbit with a little cotton tail perked her tall, pointy ears.

“You lost a red soccer ball?” she asked Millie. “I saw one earlier. It was red, but it was kind of flat, more like the top of a muffin that a ball. It was nowhere near here, though. It was more toward Tiger Boulevard, lodged under a bush.”

“That’s my ball! And that’s right near where I live!” Millie exclaimed, perking up. “I live on Moose Avenue, just two blocks down from there!”

Silently the rabbit took off hopping down the paved sidewalk, Millie scampering along clumsily at her heels. Twenty minutes and several blocks later Millie and the rabbit made it, at last, to Tiger Boulevard. The rabbit continued down the street, Millie trailing just behind, until she reached the row of bushes under which she had earlier seen Millie’s soccer ball, only when they got there, the ball was gone!

“Where’d it go?” Millie wondered aloud, her spirits sinking like the Titanic at this new discovery.

“May I help you?” a familiar voice asked.

“Olive!” Millie said to her dear friend, a poodle she met at puppy camp two months earlier. “My ball is gone. The wind took it earlier, and this rabbit here said it was under these bushes.”

“Ahh, I thought I recognized that ball,” Olive said. “I brought it inside not long ago. I was going to bring it over tomorrow and ask if it was yours. Come, both of you. It’s just upstairs. And I made a fruit pizza earlier, come have some,” she said motioning to her right at the mocha coloured apartment beside her.

Happy to have finally found her ball, Millie followed Olive up the stairs to her second story apartment, the rabbit just behind her. After they had their pizza, Millie invited them all to play with her ball with her. They had such a good time, that no one noticed the late hour until the sun began to go down, and rabbit said she had to get home to her brothers and sisters. Millie, too, had to get home, so her mama wouldn’t have to worry about where she was all day.

Play

Characters:

Joseph Andrew

Emma Anne

Hostess

Waiter

(Joseph holds the door open for Emma as they enter the Olive Garden before Prom)

Emma: (whispers) Thanks

Hostess: Welcome to Olive Garden, table for two?

Joseph: Yes.

Hostess: Right this way.

(Joseph and Emma sit down at a small table)

Waiter: Hi, welcome to Olive Garden, I’ll be your waiter for this evening. May I start you two off with a drink?

Emma (shyly): Iced tea, please

Joseph: Coke, please

Waiter: I’ll bring that right out, with your bread and salad

Emma and Joseph: Thank you

Emma: Did you know that Olive Garden agreed to not give free unlimited breadsticks anymore?

Joseph: Are you serious?? The bread is the best part!!!

Emma: Yup, Michelle Obama thought it was the breadsticks contributing to obesity, and proposed that the restaurant not give out unlimited bread.

Waiter (brings drinks, bread, and salad): are you ready to order?

Joseph: Yeah, I’ll have the ravioli with meat sauce please.

Emma: The stuffed chicken marsola, please.

(Waiter leaves)

Joseph: That’s insane!

Emma (chewing bread): Yup, and kids aren’t allowed to order fries anymore without parental supervision, and McDonald’s now has apple slices mandatory – the portion of fries will be reduced, so you get both.

Joseph: That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! People have known for years that McDonald’s is bad for you, and that bread is all carbs! So now the government is interfering with the foods we eat, too?!

Emma: I know… Maybe you should write a letter to the First Lady; it was her idea after all.

Joseph (stabbing at his salad): Ya know what, I will! I'll ask her why we can't have bread but we can have all the soda and ice cream we want!

Emma (laughing): Okay sweetie.

(Joseph searches for a pen and napkin)

Emma: What are you doing?

Joseph: Looking for something to start my letter with! I mean, seriously? People know not all foods are healthy, but we're still going to eat them anyway? I mean, I'm pretty sure we're going to have some kind of food at prom tonight, is Michele Obama going to propose that the schools stop doing that, too?

Emma: Can’t you wait until you get home to write the letter? Just enjoy the evening.

Joseph (sighing): Yeah, I suppose. But why is it that we can have soda machines in schools and sell ice cream and energy drinks, but we can't get unlimited bread at Olive Garden?!?!

Emma: Hun, I don't know..

 

Joseph: It's just so dumb! We give out bread to the homeless, we give out bread at church - in fact, Jesus gave out bread at the Last Supper - but we can't get more than one piece of bread?!

 

Emma: Joseph, please just drop it.

 

Joseph (making a mental note of everything he wants to say in his letter to Congress): Fine, sorry.

 

Emma (smiling half-heartedly): It's okay

 

(Joseph continues mumbling under his breath about Olive Garden's agreement to quit serving more than one basket of bread)

 

Emma: So how was the rest of your day?

 

Joseph: Pretty good; we won the soccer game by a lot, so that was great! And now I'm going to prom with a gorgeous girl..(grins)

 

Emma (blushing): Awww, well that's good about the soccer game.

 

(Waiter brings food, and Emma and Joseph continue talking and enjoying their meal before going to the dance)

Fable - Independent Frog

            There was once a frog who never listened to his parents. When they would ask him to do the dishes, he let them pile up until his mom or dad did them. When they told him to turn off the TV and go to bed, he stayed up watching it until he fell asleep.

            “I’m a big frog,” he would say, “I don’t need parents to tell me what to do.”

            After months of their son not cooperating and following their rules, Mr. and Mrs. Frog grew frustrated. They told their son they would let him stay on his own, and be an independent frog.

            Frog was happy he was finally being trusted, and promised his parents to do what he needed, and in return they would not be there to tell him what to do.

            By the end of his first week alone, Frog had no clean dishes left. He was always exhausted from staying up so late watching the TV, and his grades were already dropping, because his parents weren’t around to tell him to do the work. One night he was hungry, but forgot to go shopping. It wouldn’t matter if he had gone anyway, because he had no clean dishes to use.

            Finally frustrated that the dishes were dirty, and tired from staying up, Frog cleaned. He cleaned, did his work, and went to bed early. The next day Frog went back home and told his parents he didn’t like being left on his own just yet, and the responsibility of being an adult was too much. He realized how frustrated his parents must have been, and moved back home. Every time his parents asked him to do something and he thought of ignoring them, he remembered his own frustrations and messes, and realized his parents’ requests are preparing him to be on his own, and that he should listen to them.

Fearing the Fear - Clowns

            Clowns are terrifying beings, with their faces painted chalk white and creepy cherry smiles that stretch, quite literally, from ear to ear. Some clowns even have carrot orange stars painted around their eyes. On their noses sit squeaky tomato – like rubber balls. Poufy, curly wigs of all different colours sit atop a clown’s head, topped by too – small top hats and flowers. Their bright rainbow attire hangs too big off their bodies, their large shoes nearly two feet long. They walk around with pies, and slam them into the faces of random people around them.

            Black and white clowns, however, are the most terrifying. Instead of cherry red smiles, horrifying expressions are painted on their faces, and they often have a vertical line painted in black over one eye. Their clothes, rather than brightly coloured, though still loose, are more often than not black and white stripped. Substituting for pies, these dark clowns carry around large mallets, which they use to hit people. It is amazing to me how so many clowns are employed for circuses and birthday parties when they are so menacingly creepy.

Love Poem - Forbidden Feelings

Know I’ll always be there for you

As I know you’ll be for me

When she breaks your heart again

I’ll be waiting on the side

To catch your tears

And bring the sunshine back to your eyes

The flaming cherry in your cheeks

My favourite Sunday topping

The stream of topaz in your eyes

My favourite precious stone

The sweater of your hug

My favourite sanctuary

In you I do confide

That which no others can know

When nothing in the world is right

It’s you I will come to

If you ask I will answer

For I can tell you anything

The furnace of your hand on mine

My favourite pair of gloves

The blanket of your arms around me

My favourite bedtime companion

The satin of your touch

My favourite teddy bear

I knew you before I did

Though about you I knew not

But with just a few short weeks

It seems it’s been forever

Obvious to all but you

They say we’ll end up together

The music that you breathe at night

My favourite lullaby

The speed bumps of your heart rate

My favourite bus ride

The love I wish we shared

My favourite secret from the world

Haikus - Hidden Meanings

1. Blustery winds blow

    Whistling through the morning sky

    Christmas morning snow

2. Fish swimming in the sea

    Carried by the rushing stream

    Far away from thee

3. Only he remains

    The robot on the window

    In the cool, dark night

4. Bloodlust fills the air

    Guns are drawn, the war is on

    Treasure is now there

5. She sees what you can’t

    The hollowness is haunting

    Herself she won’t show

6. The world we see is fake

    They wish to keep you hidden

    From outside the lake

Fear of a Room - Darkness

When I was younger, my sister’s room was in the basement of our three story townhouse. One Halloween we decided to have a mini slumber party and watch, what we had thought at the time, were scary movies on Disney Channel. The first film we watched on the small black television was Don’t Look Under the Bed, a movie in which the Boogie Man lives under a young girl’s bed.

            I got down to the room and hid under the old, work Little Mermaid sheets, sitting as close to the bare white wall as I could, without actually touching it. Kaity followed shortly behind, but first she turned off the flickering lights that hung above on and old chain, and descended the creaky, rotting steps, and crawled next to me on the mattress. Within thirty minutes she was asleep, snoring softly.

            Every once in a while, as I gaped in horror at the fuzzy screen of the TV, the heater would groan and shadows would be thrown across the walls as cars came and went, they’re headlights illuminating the dust and cobwebs outside the small, dirty window. Some of the shadows appeared to be faces, faces that would laugh at me every time the whining heater had made me jump out of the bed like a deer startled by gunfire in a quiet forest.

            At some point I assume, my burning eyes closed and I drifted into a light sleep. When I awoke, it was darker than ever in the clammy basement. Before my adolescent eyes could adjust to the dark, I saw a tall, lean male figure emerge from behind the staircase, where my dad kept his deployment equipment. The man, possibly the ghost of someone my dad encountered in war, I had thought, was wearing a tall Victorian style hat and cape, and carried a large briefcase. He glided across the room and disappeared into the wall, the same wall by which I was sitting, just at the other end of it. Ever since that Halloween night, I cannot be alone in a basement, light or dark, day or night, without hyperventilating, sweat forming on the back of my neck. Since that night, Halloween has been a horrible night, and the darkness of any atmosphere sends chills down my spine, the chills you get from standing out in the snow in jeans and a t-shirt.

Humpty Dumpty - The Great Fall

Jake: R.I.P. BRO

Leslie: ??

            What’s up with your status, dude?

Jake: Did you hear what happened to Humpty Dumpty?

Leslie: That real pale, quiet kid from cooking class?

Jake: Yeah, that’s the one

Leslie: No! What happened? Is everything okay?

Jake: Not really… I heard my mom talking to his mom

Apparently he was supposed to meet Mary for dinner,
and witnesses say he was

sitting on the wall outside Eggs – N – Bacon when some
gang bangers came out and fired a gun

Leslie: THEY SHOT HUMPTY?!?!

Jake: No, no, let me finish
     So this humpty kid from cooking class was on the wall,    I guess deep in thought,
     because witnesses say he looked like he was staring  into space. Since the gun was   fired from right next to     him, the sound of the fire startled him, and… He just   fell backward!

Leslie: Well, is he okay? Were the people with the gun caught?

Jake: They were caught. They were in such shock. The gun was    fired on accident as they
     fought over it.
     When Humpty fell, he landed on the crown of his head.     The impact was so hard, his shell cracked all the way down, so when the gang bangers tried to help him,
     his shell fell apart and the yolk spilled everywhere.

Leslie: Oh no!!! That’s so sad! Poor Mary. Poor Mrs. Dumpty. Mr. Dumpty died in war, huh?

Jake: Yeah, she’s all alone now. She’s thinking about going to live by her family, but, hey I have to go. Dinner…

Colour Association - Red

            Red. It is the colour of blood, and a colour of love. It is also a colour on the American, German, Australian, and British flags. Consciously, red is just a colour, however, subconsciously it is a symbol of who I am.

            Growing up I always answered the common question, “what is your favourite colour?” with green. It was a colour I saw everywhere for years. But when my family moved to Germany, I started answering with red. A few years before I moved, my dad was deployed to Iraq, from where he sent my sister and I red carnations for Valentine’s day. The year I moved, my cheerleading coach gave me red nail polish, my grandmother gave me a red shirt, and my friend gave me a red journal for the Fourth of July, just a day before we left America. The flag for my three favourite countries: England, Australia, and the United States all possess the colour red. The flag of Germany, my new home for the next three years to come also contained a stripe of red.

            Red, for me, is also a colour of home. My mom has always like the old – Americana theme, so scattered about our house in every room, like a disease, is something red. A blanket atop the couch, a picture of soldiers a shelf, a flag hanging proudly outside, or a wall ornament strung with precision, something red. Before, red was just a colour, the answer to a simple question. Looking back now, that was never the case. Red was never just an answer. It was always more complex than that. Red is the colour of my life, those I love, and my home. Red is the colour of me.

Smell Association - Rain

            Rain is my favourite scent, because it reminds me of Germany. When I was younger, I was terrified of the rain. The sudden darkness it brought to the previously bright sky and the brilliant flashes of light followed by the loud bang frightened me. It all seemed like it should be unnatural. When I was ten, my family visited the Baltimore Zoo on a bright August day. As the day progressed, the sky gradually went from a cloudless, pool blue, to a bed covered with a light blanket of clouds. By lunch, only a few number of rain drops had fallen from above, leaving dark stains on the ground where they had touched. As we were visiting the bee house, located at the farthest end of the zoo, we could hear the thunder banging outside like the bass of a rock band. Terrified, I begged to stay indoors until the storm outside blew over. Of course, stubborn as they are, my parents made us continue on through the exhibits. When the door of the bee house was opened to allow us to continue our day at the zoo, the sudden smell of rain filled my nose. Since I usually avoided being the rain, the scent was unfamiliar. We walked out side, my family and I, and within minutes were all drenched through to our bones. The next exhibit on our journey was outdoors, through the trees with the monkeys. As time drew on, the sweet, distinct smell of the rain had mesmerized me; it was the only thing that kept me outside the rest of that day. When I lived in Germany, it was as rainy as El Paso is dry, so when it rains in El Paso I like to go outdoors and stand still, breathing in the sweet, earthly smell that reminds me so much of what I call home.

Writing Through Listening - The Grand Day

It was a beautiful spring morning in London, England during the early 1960s. For once, the sun, just visible above the horizon, was shining, the only moisture on the ground the early morning dew on the grass. All across the city the atmosphere was bright, joyous, and festive.

            Police officers sat atop their horses, watching for any signs of trouble and conduction traffic, some even blocking off a few of the streets. People of all ages gathered along both sides of the street, jittering excitedly; young mothers held on to their childrens’ hands, trying to keep them from running off and getting lost in the midst of the excited bustling, elderly couples strolled hand in hand down the busy streets.

            People everywhere were being pushed into each other, but the event was so grand, not a single child – on – Christmas – morning smile disappeared from anyone’s face. Cheerful chatter could be heard for miles around as people anticipated that final moment. At last it came, and the first streets grew silent before cheers erupted like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Even the usually loud chime of the eight o’clock church bells was only a distant buzz, audible only to those standing just under the church tower itself.

            When the carriage passed, the on looking bystanders could only stare at the beauty that passed before them. The queen, in her exquisite lavender gown, was led down the busy streets in a white carriage, pulled by two white horses, whose manes and tails were freshly groomed. Glued to the queen’s face, just like on those of her admirers, was that child – on – Christmas – morning smile. Today was her birthday, and the entire country had gathered to rejoice the day with their kind, beautiful leading lady.

Short Story Mix - Up - The Birthday Cake Man

            One day two boys were at home bored. Since their mom’s birthday was just days away, they decided to make her a cake in the shape of a little boy, representing themselves. Together they mixed the batter, shaped it, and put it in the oven to bake. An hour later, when the timer went off, the eldest brother opened the oven to check their master piece, when all of a sudden it stood up and jumped out!

            He ran across the counter chanting, “Run, run as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the birthday cake man!” just before he jumped out the kitchen window.

            At first the boys could only gape in awe after their living cake before yanking their key off the wall and beginning the longest game of chase they would ever play. As they charged after him, the cake can came across a fawn in the meadow, who said, “Mmm, you smell delicious! I haven’t eaten in so long, maybe…” and then he, too, lunged after the small spongy man.

            “No!” cried the birthday cake man, “I ran away from two boys, I can run away from you, too! Run, run as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the birthday cake man!” And with that he took off even faster through the meadow until he reached a small brown bear cub.

            “Hello, cake man! Is it you that smells so mouthwateringly scrumdidiliumpcious?” asked the bear, inhaling deeply toward the cake man.

            “Alas, young cub, it is I you smell. But I escaped two boys and a fawn. I can escape you, too! Run, run as fast as you can! You can’t catch me I’m the birthday cake man!” screeched he, turning away from the small brown bear’s bloodlust. He scrambled quickly through the meadow, bounding over rocks until he met an eagle.

            “I ran away from two young boys, a fawn, and a brown bear cub. Surely I can run away from you, too,” the birthday cake man said to the eagle.

            “Oh, sir, I don’t want to eat you, but perhaps I may help you. I believe I hear the others running this way, and that rock is much too high for someone like you to climb,” said the eagle gesturing to a mountain to his right.

            Seeing no other choice but to trust the wise eagle, the cake man agreed.

            “Very well, how shall you help me?”

            “I will carry you in my talons,” replied the eagle, sweetly.

            “But I am a cake! I would be broken if you held me like that,” the birthday cake man cried in fear, as he heard the two boys, then fawn, and the cub quickly closing the distance between them.

            “Of course!” cried the eagle, “how silly of me! Here, climb onto my back,” and he ducked his head for the birthday cake man to get on.

            The two boys, the fawn, and the brown bear cub appeared at the base of the mountain at that moment. Just when they thought the small boy-shaped cake was going to climb on the eagle’s back, the eagle bit the cake man’s head off. They ran toward the eagle, begging for a share of the delicious smelling cake man, but as they got closer, the eagle finished off the birthday cake man, leaving not even an arm for the cub, nor the fawn, nor the two boys, nor even their mother, whose birthday was just days away.

World Myth - Dany vs. Joshua

            Millions of years ago, when Earth first came about, there lived only three people, who came from different planets. Dany was dark and mysterious, both inside and out, with his long black hair hanging half an inch above his mud brown eyes. Joshua, physically, was quite the opposite of Dany, his sandy blonde hair neatly trimmed in a buzz cut. Characteristically, however, Dany and Joshua were similar. They both spent their days scheming ways to kill the other, for both thought they loved Kori, whose auburn hair hung flawlessly down to her middle back, her hazel eyes shone like the stars.

            Kori knew she didn’t love either man, but tired of watching the Earth being destroyed, she created a series of contests for Dany and Joshua. The one she thought did best would be the man she married. After days of brutal tasks, Kori told her two suitors neither performed in a manner that would appeal her fancy, and that neither would have the honour of marrying her.

            Outraged, Dany killed every little animal that stepped in his path. One day he killed a deer, and while the deer’s body was dead, his soul lived on. But if the soul could not find another body, he, too, would die soon, so the deer’s soul inhabited Dany’s body. The kind, gentle nature of the deer’s soul quickly overtook the evil, turning Dany into a nonviolent and loving person.

            Kori saw Dany in the forest one evening, and when he helped an injured squirrel instead of kill it, Kori decided to follow him. She watched him for days, witnessing only good, no evil. The change in his attitude intrigued Kori, and she soon realized she was falling in love with the new Dany, and began to converse with him, until one day he asked her to marry him.

            Years later, Joshua saw Kori with Dany, and was quickly filled with rage. Kori had told him she didn’t love him, but she also said she didn’t love Dany. That evening he waited for Kori and Dany to fall asleep, then murdered them, just before killing his own self.

            Kori, knowing a day like this would soon come, had id all seven of her and Dany’s children, each on a single continent, as soon as they were born. As the children grew older, and more curious, they began to wander about the Earth’s surface to different corners of the planet, finding themselves in lands not like the ones they had grown up on. It was in these unfamiliar lands that they began to meet each other, slowly, for the lands were so grand in size, for the first time. Some of these children, not knowing they had any blood relationships to each other, married and had children of their own, who grew up and wandered about the Earth until they met another child, unknown cousins, until the population began to grow and the world as we know eventually formed.

Creative Poem - Flight home

Out the window ocean blue

Land below unfamiliar and new

To the left people sleeping

On the right young children weeping

Claustrophobic, three thousand feet up

Cannot breathe and out of luck

Mile by mile, inch by inch

With ev’ry turn, can’t help but flinch

Three more hours till we reach the land

Eight hours since American sand

Lights below white on black

Voices announce we’re right on track

Eyes are burning from lack of sleep

Tired and hungry, I feel weak

We’ve gone a great distance, but just how far?

What time is it where we are?

Now we’ve made it there to here

Eleven hours spent in fear

Safely we made it together

To the land of murky weather

Animal - Gazingo

I pace up and down the field

They make the first call

My long legs tense and begin to quiver

Quickly I jog a warm – up lap

Scenarios race through my mind

I imagine first failure

Before I can cross the finish line

I am caught and eaten by the pack

Second call rings out across the large field

The next scenario flashes

A short film in a series

This time, only half the pack catches me

The other half falls behind

They catch up just a second after it is too late

I may have been bitten, but I survived

Third call and I hyperventilate

I stretch my arms high to the sky

Bend over and reach for my toes, so far below me

The final scenario flashes by

The pack gathers close along the start line

My heart hammers in my chest as I see the animals around me

Is it possible my long, lanky legs will make it?

Will I be able to get away fast enough?

Far enough away to avoid being eaten alive

The gun sounds as my signal

It warns me the race is on

I push myself forward

The first curve already is behind us

The weak soon fall behind

But not without a fight

I fear of being unable to escape the bloodthirsty animals

I pump my wings faster

I duck my head against the raging desert winds

I hope against all odds to get the edge I need

Rounding the second curve I glance down

In my peripheral vision I see their shadows

I strain my small ears

Over the pounding in my chest I hear them

Their paws slam the ground on all sides

I know they can taste it

The victory of beating me

Of watching me die in a mob of vicious creatures

A second gunfire warns me

I know this is it

I cross the halfway mark and try to relax

The carnivores are so hungry it burns them

They won’t go down without a final fight

We speed around the next turn

Time seems to be stuck in battle

I feel them biting at my heels

Hear the rough growls escape through their teeth

We’re almost to the final curve

My legs ache

My dry throat burns from dusty gasps of air

One of the wild things behind me strikes too soon

She brushes past

A grunt of desperation escapes my throat

I open my stride further

I will my legs to move faster still against the ground below

Slowly, it seems, I am able to catch back up

I switch to the next lane over

Here the final race begins

My hooves beat the soft red ground

My long, pale legs feel ready to collapse

With just meters to go I push my legs harder, faster

I close my eyes, push off the ground, and fly

Suddenly nothing else matters

Nothing but getting to the finish

Finishing without letting her consume me

Her and the rest of the savage beasts so close around us

My wings beat hard and fast

My legs ache, but carry on

My long neck stretches to reach the finish first

I open my eyes and I see that I’ve done it

I got the finish I needed to continue on in the fight

The heavy bronze medal hangs lightly from my neck

The strange gazingo finally beat the Foxes and the Wolves

Limerick - The Old Car

There was an old car in the lot

Its engine no longer was hot

Its colour was blue

Not a popular hue

And over it no bidders fought