Poems & Riddles

Sandy Shores

I wrote this riddle one summer afternoon at my Great Aunt and Uncle's house while we were eating freezy pops outside

Shandy shores,
and hardwood floors.
Rowboat Oars,
and castle doors.

Fashion may come after function
but rhyme before reason;

after supper and after tea
what on earth could I be?

Click here to reveal the answer. A beech tree!

Underneath His Helmet

I wrote this poem in my creative writing class, my senior year of High School

His face hot and red like a beet
As blood flowed from under his feet
Panic'd eyes wide open
Rapid breaths in and out
Staring down at him were fifteen troops
Their oak shields finished with gold loops

Our hero, halberd in hand, lunged
And into their captains heart plunged
The squirting blood flew through his helm
And hit underneath his helmet
They roared and prepared to strike
And from the mob came a pike
It glanced off his helm
It rang like a church bell

Our man stood there, ready to collapse
But he thought he might win this, perhaps
He'd need only wait
A moment loner

Head spinning, men charging
He plants his feet, ready
He sifted his armoured
hands down to the pommel
And swung at the fighters
His blade was stuck like caramel
In the ribs of their vanguard

As such, his sword was drawn
"Bring on!" they called, "Bring on!"
They charged at him with sudden speed
Again he prepared, bent at knee

Their chops he blocked
And their lunges he parried
Attackers shocked
At the defenses that varied

From aggression to fear
their expression fell
As in came calv'ry
To delay a trip to hell

Finally, our hero buckled
To view of men escaping death
In a wave of unfamiliar peace
He enjoyed his final breath