"Together We Can" and will

     So the PTSA holds this contest every year in which they create some ridiculous theme and students are expected to relate to it.  I'd never entered this contest and had never intended to, but my creative writing teacher insisted. Themes from years past include "Beauty is..." and "Wow!"  The best one yet came from this year: "Together we can." When I read the title, I immediately thought of Bob the Builder and Obama's '09 campaign slogan "Yes we can!" I mean, what ARE we suppose to write about? Are they expecting us to write great speeches like Martin Luther King's "I had a Dream?"  Good. Grief.                                                                                                                                      
     Many kids in my class decided on satirizing the whole thing and adding cliches and cheesy sayings.  Mine started out as I thought was lame, but only to turn out as not half-bad. I think. 

 “The Ultimate Promise”

Together we can

and will.

We will push through this.

We swore to with smiles

and hands squeezed tightly.

Together we can

Maybe not with smiles

and soft voices

Struggles will not cease.

Fights will still exist,

but we will love,

and we will cherish.

Together we can

Through the ups

and through the downs,

in sickness

and in health,

we will cross this ocean of

dissatisfaction and frustration.

Together we can

Far too selfish it would be

What life will the children live

if we choose to separate?

We must stick together

until death do us part.

Shelby Farms

A place where

freshly cut grass

glistens from the dew

and sweat.

Beneath the canopy of oaks and pines

dusty trails wind

back and forth,

down hill,

up hill.  A ball of fire hovers

over the

steep, salmon, sand knolls.

A place where

the phrase “mile repeats”

is most dreaded.

“Full speed”

is not a convivial saying,

either. 

A place where

shouting is an encouragement,

not a disappointment.

Stopwatches beep

after each interval.

Less is more.

A place where

water is precious-

the simple substance

always a satisfaction.

A taste so

unsullied and fresh,

it cleanses more than

just the throat. 

A place where

sweat is a perfume,

a sign of accomplishment.

Tears taste sweet,

not bitter.

A place where

stretching is a

social gathering.

Stories mix up

and rumors spread

all too quickly. 

A place where

bees buzz,

hornets horde,

and ants bite,

leaving ruby, swollen bumps.

A place where

friends meet,

laugh,

yell,

cry

like a family.

A second family

Stuart 

My dear pal,

how I love to wrap my arms around you

and sniff your earthly scent.

Tired and drained I come home,

yet you welcome me with eagerness and happiness.

My silly boy,

how I crack up when you waddle out of the bathroom cabinet

and frighten the guest.

Your coat fades and white stripes atop your head appear as an old man’s eyebrows,

yet you still hold fire and zeal in that Lab-body-on-Corgi-legs.

My baby doll,

how I adore when you brush against my legs under the table

and beg for my attention.

Mom says I shouldn’t feed you unhealthy food,

but I know you would even snack on lettuce.

My old pup,

how it confuses me that thunder should startle you

and yet I am fascinated by the complexity of lightening.

You burrow yourself in my covers and slobber over my sheets

but I’m happy to snuggle with you.

My best friend,

how I want you to always be there when I’m down

and lick my cheek and wag your tail.

I know you have to say goodbye sometime,

but I hope all dogs go to heaven.