|
PERSONAL CHALLENGE
by Ken
Shiovitz
The pitch is black. The pitch is steep. Upon the rungs I slowly creep. Some tiny grains From pitch unseat, Come loose and slide Beneath my feet. Squeeze tight the rope Above a knot. I do not like This job a lot. Peering up To eye the mast, Now stand erect If courage last. Wing-nuts in pocket, Clamp perched free, Just grab and lift. Stop shaking, knee! A few more turns, Oops, a near drop. Now firm in place, Will shaking stop? Slow retreat, Each step a single, Stop to brush moss From a
shingle. Back on turf, I count my luck. So much at risk To save a buck! |
|
SURVIVAL POEMS |
