Here is a poem I made for a friend on a bet. I didnt know where else to post it:
Blood flows freely from me,
To the beat of distant drums.
They still keep close behind me,
Despite how fast I run.
My breath comes ragged to me,
My blood it soaks my coat
The idol heavy in my hand,
a scream trapped in my throat.
Arrows clatter near me,
the tribe still seeks my skin.
I am truly weak and tired,
as the canyon begins to thin.
It opens up before me,
my heart begins to lift.
Then it stills inside me,
as I reach the edge of the cliff.
The jungle sprawls below me,
a green and untamed sea.
I hear the cries behind me,
To be or not to be.
I clutch the idol to me,
what pleasures it will buy.
I close my eyes and leap,
wishing I could fly.
I flail at the coming trees,
I clutch at every vine.
Amazingly I slow myself,
the idol still is mine.
They scream their hatred,
from atop the cliff,
As I wander homeward,
Very bruised and stiff.
Later in the city,
where hope it will be sold.
The broker says with a sad smile,
My friend this is not gold.
So here I sit in a bar,
drinking all alone.
Beside my only companion,
a painted piece of stone.
<img src="/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/kitty.gif" alt="" />
