"BINGO"
Bite and kick, buck and run,
Always seems so terribly glum.
I'm the only one who knows,
The caringness he never shows.
Such a mare but gelding true,
He might seem just mean to you.
I love him with heart and soul,
Even with my new, smart foal.
Why does he put everyone down,
as if he owns the barn and town?
He's just a pony, a breed of mood,
It looks as if he only cares about food!
I love him still and always forever,
Me and pony always together.
"PRESLEY"
Sweetness neighs and bucks with joy,
Sweetness jumps and shies so coy.
Sweetness nuzzles and nips for fun,
Sweetness is always up for a run.
Sweetness is given everything for him,
Sweetness never knows a day that's grim.
By day Sweetness nickers for play,
By night Sweetness waits for day.
Sweetness chomps his oats without care,
Sweetness, never in his eyes is a glare.
Sweetness, a baby, is mine my delight,
Sweetness so gentle so perfect in sight.
Sweetness is awesome, so quick and so smart,
Sweetness will always be mine in my heart.
"LORD DEATH"
Here comes Lord Death,
Mounted for the chase,
His silver sword unselthed,
Man can't look to his face,
His cold hands steady,
His horse so shy,
Always ready,
Too scared to cry,
Don't try to run,
Or block or fight,
You're past done,
Tonight is the night,
It's you and Him,
You can't hide,
This world is grim,
He's ready to ride,
All is dark now,
It's cold you say,
You must bow,
No, stay away!
It's not time yet!
It can't be true,
I won't pay my debt,
You say as your denial grew,
Eternal dead,
On cold naked skin,
Nothing more to be said,
There is no more Him,
But emptiness.
"UNTITLED"
By: Megan B.
Unloved. Untouched. Unmoveable. Undeniable.
She sits in the darkened corner of the room, her face in the shadow.
She looks back at the world only to tell them they hide in the light, running from the dark.
When she embraces the dark with open wings.
The dark is her shadow, is her hair, is her eyes, is her soul.
Her soul is deeper then an ocean's eyes, smoother then the silk of your cloth.
She sits in the corner, her hands clasped in her lap as to hide the cuts on her palms.
Along her arm grows a vine of roses, each thorn leaving its bloody mark on her arm.
Yet, she looses no blood, the cut only dries red.
She cries, but not a sound is heard, only tear stains run across her beautiful face.
Her hair, braided down the back, is a mess.
No one has cared enough to help her untangle it.
A girl who was once beautiful, still is, just, forgotten.