Friday, February 24, 2012

A Race

A poem I wrote:

The excitement building, we watch and wait
As the starter ascends unto his chair,
A stallion shuffles, behind the gate
The rider steadies him with care.

The noise subsides, the silence is heard
The riders stare between their horses ears
Perked and tense waiting for the word
Suddenly it comes and the air is rent with cheers.

From now till the end its one long cheer,
As the riders rush on down the track,
The beating of hooves, the thrill and fear
But the trumpet is blow, there is no turning back.

Bent bodies crouching, shouting voices
The stallion passes to the lead,
Past all the lashing whips and noises,
That characterizes this mass of steeds.

The stallion and bay the lead do take
The crowds loud roar rings up to the air
From the heights of the bleachers at the Stakes,
“On,” they cry, “win the race, if you dare!”

They’re neck and neck as they run down the course
 The onlookers whistling and applauding them fine
The stallion surges to the front by his pure force
And leaps across the finish line. 

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Foaming Sea

I stand on top the rocky crag
And look below on foaming sea
A world of spray in billowing flags
Of color grey with vast majesty

I descend to the shore and wade on through
The roaring waves and sand below
Without restraint I plunge into
The blueness of its sparkling glow

I feel water surrounding me
I swim through caverns in the deep
I smell the air of salty sea
And hear the gulls above me weep.

What hand such majesty could compose?
What ability in the Maker’s mind?
Covered in stalactites, blue-silver grottoes
Who can tell the treasures one might find?

I work my way back down to the sea
Where the sand is crushed by the waves
I see the dangerous rocks in the deep
How many of those mark a man's grave?

Spanish galleons, lost at sea,
The desperate fight between nature and man
Sinking, dying, in black waters eerie
The end of that sea-race those sailors ran.

Come to my grotto, lost in the deep,
Sheltered from the tide in my silent lagoon;
Now but a whisper, glory dead in sleep,
Beached in my grotto, lit by the moon.


Friday, February 17, 2012

Shakespearean English

This is hilarious! This is what it would sound like if we all spoke Shakespearean English. :) You got to watch it all the way through!


Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Some Pictures

Beautiful water!
Going Hunting at night in December

Plowing the garden