Untitled

With day turning to night quickly,
The moon reflected light as it gleamed.
While peter played the piccolo,
He the pickle between notes.
Resting on the shoulder a mango gave out a weep,
He sprung forward crying out about the pickle in his eye.
Quickly the captain yanked it from the eye,
Wishing he had his favorite hook.
He started breathing harder,
The sweat began to run down his face,
Quickly wiping it dry,
The feeling of warmth and comfort came over him,
And the sound of the piccolo began again.

It All Adds Up

Hid amongst the trees,
While playing the drum to sound the beat.
Men on horses went by with such speed,
Toward the battle of the widely spread war.
Cannons creating loud explosion ,
Left no man alive.
Men scattered gathering cannon balls,
Powder and other useful weapons.
Long rifles fired in the hands of the soldiers,
And pistols were controlled by the officers in charge.
Every man joined together to help win this war.

Battles of Defeat

I walked up to the man with his hand resting on his sword. I began to tell him about the news of his calvary which were stationed about five miles away. The enemy had attacked with great force and with a numerous amount of men. This had happened while he was diliverying the message to our calvary. He looked in shock with his mouth open wanting to speak but could not. I continued to enform him that his men probably did not make it through the battle. They were out numbered and had no chance in hell. All the man could do was gaze toward the ground. All he could do in that moment was put his hand to his face, while the other hand gripped the handle of his sword with increasing strength.

The Power Within the Blaze

Smoke rises from the shattered windows,
Fire engulfing the open door.
Hopes of conquring the unbundance of energy diminishes,
as the remaining structure is overtaken by the blaze,
of bright white, yellow, orange and blue.

Heaven acts with ghost,
people can see below,
The right choice which should not be,
Written termoil on this paper.

The soul from its case,
inspects life's scary voices.

It was hot when the mind,
began to cry at a funeral,
for my younger sister.

She is heard again,
as her soul drifts upward,
toward heaven.

As near a paradise as it can be,
this place in time is not always used,
but infact it can be.

One level higher that the earth below,
ordinary human sampling of life can help,
with the suffering and pain.

One level nearer heaven overhead,
this corresponds to the area shaded,
deep beneath the earths rough shell.

Within a wild apple tree's young bark,
any limb that differs from the fruit,
will turn over the roots,
of a winter garden in an alder swamp.

Select the desired option and follow the path,
to find a way out,
away from it all.

The Unforgetable

Slowly preparing the room with ghost, setting pumpkins in the right place so people can see. Black and orange are the right choice. Holoween is not far away as it seems. My sister and I color our imaginations on paper. Laughing and playing around for hours, still in the holoween mood the famous cassete tape comes out from its case. The tape that has screems, creecks and scary voices, but it scared my younger sister so mother damanded it to stop. A while later the screems are heard again with confusion, how did the tape begin to play again. The sound kept going and then relizing its is not the tape. My sister and I running out of the room and down the stairs only to find our father in tears hovering over our mother who is crouching on the floor screeming and crying. We ran, down the stairs to hear we were to be going to our cousins funeral.

A Way Out

Winding road gives it's freedom.
Alone,
standing above all surroundings,
a guiding light from her torch.
Which aids in the equalization,
of the high to low concentration.
Sounding of alarms,
they retreat to the towers high above.
Temptation causes the difficult crossing,
but failures occur within the harsh environment.
Aliens alone are half the battle.
Detections take place,
along the winding road,
which is to be the forgiving freedom.

The red rose lies on the night stand,
as I kiss your sweet velvet lips.
In this speechless moment,
brings the life, color and light to be.
I must be doing something right,
for I have kept your love surounding my heart.
Your the only one who keeps the heart to beat.
Not being able to get enough,
it can be hard to be apart for so long.
Few know the intensity of being apart,
thats the reason to make the memories that help create us.
enjoying every moment as great as it can be,
thats why the eye can only see your beautiful soul with me.

Going Inside


Hose after hose all laid out,
Through green blades of grass, mud holes and gravel.
One hose winding through the doorway of the enormous home,
Making its way like a snake,
Around the corner and up the deeply carved stair case.
Taking on a black color which gave the white fibers a tint.
Down the hall heading deeper into the intense heat and noise,
The crackling and popping overwhelming the ear,
As the flames eat away at the structure.
The hint of light begins to show within the darkened walls,
It’s as if the thick black cloud had engulfed everything.

Nearing the end of the hose two hands control the nozzle,
Water rushes out putting a tremendous force in the opposite direction.
With the light of the fire being drowned out by the thick smoke,
Water droplets plunge into the faint yellow and orange blaze.
The heat is intense turning the water into steam with a rapid pace.
With hours passing by the smoke clears slowly,
Giving a view that has not yet been able to be seen.
The remains of the structure,
Where the fire did not engulf,
Is coated with dark gray and black soot,
The rest is a black and white ash waste from the flames.
Although there is not much of a sight,
The long battle comes to an end,
With only the remains of the house where one lived.

The Gathering

Within the woods,
stands a numerous amount of tall trees.
The few which help form the forest,
are specially choosen for the job.
Good size, and perfect for the amount needed.
Holes penetrating bark and flesh,
the sweet liquid drips from within, as if it were blood.
Guided by metal spouts,
the sweetness is caught within a tin pal.
Once it is gathered and transported,
each ounce is set over flame and boiled for hours.
Leaving the sweet golden brown,
Maple Syrup.

It was a cold morning, with the frost attaching itself to the grass, leaves, and branches. Every leaf crunched and crumbled beneath each footstep. The journey was long through the woods, to where I was going to sit at the base of an old oak tree. On the way the darkness was an intimidating surrounding, but there was not much to fear. Making my way through the pines and across the series of beaver damns and up the steep hill, I finally made it to the spot. With my back to the oak tree I awaited for the sun to slowly shine its light over the landscape. As the sun continued to do so, it interfered with a motion within the brush at the base of the hill. It was dark in color, it seemed to be black amoungst the brownish green and dark brown forage. The light from the sun gave the creature a glittery shine, which widened the eye even more. The excitement and adrenaline inflamed my body as it slowly meandered closer. Looking through the scope I saw the reflecting black even better, the short brown nose and the unique white tranglular shaped patch on the chest. It is what the best moments, for a hunter, are made of. One simple sqeeze of the pointer finger and the creature ran and fell to the ground in a matter of seconds. The bear I had been waiting for had finally shown its shy and weary self amoungst the brush and timber. There is truly no experience like this one.