Poems and short stories

Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
Come members, post your poetry here, original ones or some others have written. Lets bring this thread to life and show us your talents.....


This won't be poetry, but it will be a story and it likely will go further than one post.
Well...definitely ;)
And there will be nothing romantic, endearing or joyful to it :D
Just a short story I'll add to every so often.
Essentially, Johnny b's imagination run wild.

The Pencil Trick

Friday nights were among the busiest and most profitable nights at Mickey's. Whatever you wanted at Mickey's, legal or illegal, it was always available at a price. Cheap beer brought in the newbies, liquor and dope made the profits.

Dayton only had a minor reputation for violence in the night season, but Mickey ran a tight ship anyway. Mickey had come in from California, an ex-member of an outlaw biker gang with enough proceeds from drug dealing to start up a small men's nightclub in Dayton Ohio. Mickey kept the peace with an old Colt 45 Automatic. But he was fair. All you had to do was pay your bill and hold your temper until you got out the door.
The place wasn't much bigger than a hole-in-the wall setup
Naturally, the clientele was on the rough side.
There was a small 10 x 10 stage next to the bar with a shiny chrome pole for the dancers. This night, only two girls showed up to perform so Mickey told them to tease the audience slowly and stretch out their sets.

Behind the bar was a 6 foot one-way mirror. And behind that was Mickey's office where he kept an eye on the action but seldom came out unless there were problems because Mickey didn't like to socialize very much. Mickey was there to make money not friends.
It was a small office, but comfortable. The suitable desk and a decent office chair.
It was 10:30. Mickey had just brought the books up to date, so all he had to do was keep an eye on the crowd, read the Dayton Daily News and light up a cigar. Mickey learned from observation it wasn't wise to run a bar and drink the profits.
It was mostly regulars that night. Some old bikers. Several guys that worked construction. Even a couple guys in suits with their white collars open and their ties hanging loose.
For entertainment there were pole dancers and often several hookers that frequented the bar as long as Mickey got a percentage.

As sedate as things appeared this Friday night, things were about to get strange at Mickey's.

A slender white guy, in his early 30s, about 6 foot tall, full head of black hair in what can only be called a flattop walks into the bar. Nothing too far out of the ordinary. Blue jeans, slightly dingy white shirt open at the collar and a light gray sports jacket also open. No hat but a pair of what looked like almost new cowboy boots.
Slender guy approaches the end of the bar opposite the small stage and orders a beer. Rolling Rock to be specific.
There he spends the next hour nursing one beer and listening to conversations throughout Mickey's establishment.
Mickey started to notice this new customer after the first half hour suspecting that the guy's waiting for somebody. Thinking, this guy is not going to be a moneymaker tonight.

So, slender guy has been standing at the end of the bar for an hour sipping on what has become a warm beer, all the while facing that large mirror.
Slender guy turns his back to the bar and slowly leans back resting his elbows on it. Looking through the noisy din he finds his target. An old biker. About the biggest guy in the room. Wearing a well worn and faded cut with "Lone Wolf" across the back. He had the deepest and loudest voice in the crowd, so he stood out.
Mr. Lone Wolf hadn't come into the bar looking for trouble, but at the same time he never avoided it. Mr. lone Wolf sat at a table, facing the bar with his buddies.
Slender guy stood staring at the biker for almost 10 minutes before the biker realized he'd become the target of attention. So the biker started staring back.
Slender guy smiled slightly but never broke his stare.
"Anybody up for a wager?"
The biker stayed silent with a slight frown and squinty eyes.

Slender guy, "Yeah, you sport. Would you like to look impressive to your buddies? Are you a betting man, or just a blowhard?"
This riled the biker, but he knew if things get out of control Mickey was going to come in with his 45.
Biker, "What do you have in mind?"
Slender guy, "I'll bet I can do something you can't."
Biker, "And what would that be?"
Slender guy, "I can take a typical lead pencil with an eraser, throw it so that it hits the wall on the other side of the room, bouncing back into my empty beer mug sitting right here on the bar."

Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
The Pencil Trick continued

Biker guy took another sip of his beer and simply stared back.
Slender guy, "So, what's your name muscles?"
"Little Bob."
"So, Little Bob. wanna play? I can take the typical wooden lead pencil, throw it against the wall on the other side of the room and make it bounce back into my beer glass."
Little Bob, "We've all seen guys do trick shots on the Internet. No big deal. We've all seen guys do magic stunts on TV and the Internet. No big deal."

Slender guy smiled, "Indeed, Little Bob. But this isn't the Internet and it's definitely not TV. This is Mickey's and I'm willing to make a bet I can do something you can't do. And that is throw a pencil 30 feet across the room, hit the wall, bounce back another 25 feet and land into my beer mug. You can all gather around and get as close as you want so long as you don't get in my way.

Admit, Little Bob. That's more than just one hell of a trick. I'm willing to bet $5000 I can do this trick on the very first throw and you can't.
It seems pretty simple to me, Little Bob. I can do something you can't and I'm willing to back it up with more than just my mouth.
Little Bob, "First, I don't have $5000 on me, and second I wouldn't pay five grand to watch you do the trick anyway."
Slender guy smiled, "Fine. How much money do you have on you?"
Little Bob, "Small bills and a C-note."
Slender guy, "This is sad, Little Bob. Not to brag on my abilities but, I think it's worth more. Anybody else want to jump in and cover Little Bob's bet?"
Slender guy had the attention of the bar's patrons, but the room stayed silent.

Slender guy, "Okay. Let's make the trick a little harder."
Already standing near the right side and end of the bar, Slender guy took several steps, folded the bar extension over leaving 6 inches between the edge of the extension and the wall. Slender guy reached over, grabbed his beer mug and set it on the floor, underneath the extension and butting up against the end of the bar.
Slender guy smiled to the crowd that had formed around him. A tight smile. With slightly squinty eyes.
"I'm willing to bet $10,000 I can throw a typical pencil from where I'm standing to the wall on the other side of the room, bounce it back across the bar, fall between the extension and the wall and bounce into my beer mug sitting right there on the floor. One try. And no one else here can, in one try."

Mickey smiled. He'd seen a lot of hustles, but not one so incredibly impossible to pull off. If it was legit, that is. So there had to be an angle. Mickey decided to sit it out and watch through the mirror. It was something new and interesting and if it didn't get out of hand, might even bring a lot of new patrons into the bar from the rumors it would generate.
So Mickey pulled his faithful Colt 45 out of the bottom drawer of his desk and slipped the clip on holster on his belt, just in case the fool got in trouble.

Slender guy looked across a room full of no takers. Time to up the ante and get serious.
Slender guy, "Okay, new deal. I've got $50,000 in cash, on me."
Slender guy opens his jacket to the left and patted his shoulder holster. In it was a faded blued out semiautomatic.
"Meet Lucille. Actually quite friendly until there's a need, but this looks like a friendly crowd so let's not worry about untoward affections for things not owned."
Slender guys smile softened and the tension lines around his eyes relaxed. "We're all friends here, right? Of course we are."
"So here's the deal. I'll put up my 50 grand against all the possessions you guys have right here, standing in Mickey's gentleman's nightclub."

At this moment, Mickey knew that he had better be standing out on the floor just to make sure things stayed calm, or at least as calm as possible. But he hesitated. Just too fascinated in seeing what occurred next. But he did stand up, watching through the mirror in anticipation of rushing out of his office.

Little Bob, "Sounds pretty fantastic to me. Show us the money."
Slender guy, "Fine. Everyone stand back. Seriously. The bartender can verify the money."
Slender guy opens the right side of his jacket and lays out five large packets of banded $100 dollar bills on the bar top, each packet $10,000.

As if the trick wasn't suspicious enough, Mickey was thinking. How the hell did that skinny guy carry $50,000 in $100 bills without it bulging under his jacket and being obvious.

Ted, the bartender thumbed through the stacks, checking bills at random.
Ted, "The bills are good but the boss doesn't want me involved. So to keep my job, I'm not part of the bet."
Slender guy smiles, "That's fine. I understand and I want to be welcomed the next time I partake in refreshments at this establishment."

Mickey's thinking, "One beer. One beer is all I sold this joker and now the crowds not drinking while he jabbers on with his scam. Get it over with dude."
But Mickey also realized long-term profits are often better than short-term profits. And the rumors and myths of tonight ought to bring in bigger spenders in the future. So Mickey stood still standing behind the mirror, wondering how this scam was going to play out. He couldn't see this joker leaving the bar without his money. If the scam was really good, maybe he'd even give it a try in the future.

Slender guy, "You guys know the deal. Anyone doesn't want part of the bet, time to leave."
Out of 19 bar patrons, only two of the construction crew decided to leave. The rest said they were committed.

But somebody shouted out, "Whose pencil are you going to use?"
Slender guy turned to Ted, the bartender, "Have you got any new pencils in a drawer?"
Ted, "Give me a second."
Ted pulls out three new pencils, uncut. And hands them to Slender guy.
Slender guy, "Nice. Three brand-new Ticonderoga number two HB pencils. Beauties. Unmarked, no scratches in pristine condition. Pass them around."
Seven guys towards the front of the crowd looked them over, nodded their heads and passed them back to Slender guy.

Slender guy, "Okay. Now let's make things interesting. I've made a bet against this group. But how about we consider some side bets? I claim I can not only take this new pencil, not yet sharpened, but sharpen it to a fine point, go through the whole routine of throwing it across the bar, bouncing off the wall and into my beer mug sitting right there on the floor.... And not break any part of the sharpened lead point."
Slender guy smiled again, "Any takers?"
No one responded. After all, slender guy had everything in the room already locked up in the original bet. One day though, he might just find the interesting offer. So he keeps on asking.
May be a more uptown bar next time would have better opportunities.
For the time being, this was just extended practice.

Slender guy, "Anyway. Tell you what I'll do since I'm such a nice guy, I say with a friendly smile. I'll ask Ted to go ahead and sharpen one of those pencils and I'll tack on this new detail as a giveaway to my new friends at Mickey's so we'll all stay friends at the end the night. Agreed?"
There was a low murmur in the group as they smiled to each other knowing the highly improbable just became impossible.

They took the bet.

(edited to make it easier to read)
Last edited:

Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
The Pencil Trick continued

Slender guy, "So let's get started guys.
First, let me introduce myself. You can call me Dave and it's obvious I'm your host for the night.
Ted. The working girls are not part of the bet. Please send them home.
Little Bob, since you've been such a gentleman and the first to be agreeable to the wager, I'll let you choose the pencil. Whichever one you want.
I request that you gentlemen give me enough room to feel free to exert myself.
Those with smart phones, feel free to record the entire event. I'm sure your loved ones at home will enjoy the experience.
Just to reiterate, I'm going to throw this Ticonderoga pencil, this beautiful yellow Ticonderoga pencil at the wall opposite this side of the bar. Bounce it off the wall and back across the room in a manner that it falls between the unfolded bar extension and the wall, again bouncing on the floor and into the beer mug I've placed on that floor and against the end of the bar itself.
Everyone understand and agree?"

There was a slight murmur through the small crowd, but less than half a minute later everyone nodded their head in agreement.

Mickey was still watching with interest through that 6 foot wide mirror.
He thought, "At least they're back to drinking."

Dave the Slender guy, "Gather round gents."
Pointing an imaginary line about 6 feet from the bar traversing from one wall to the other, it gave Dave's pencil a clear path to the opposite wall and back.
Excluding Ted, all 17 of the patrons stood up from their respective tables and approached the bar for a better view.
Dave, "Ted. How about you stay behind the bar as a viewer just to assure these gentlemen that everything looks kosher from your viewpoint."
Ted nodded in agreement.
Dave, "You with the pencils. Please hand those three Ticonderoga pencils over to Little Bob so he can make a choice."
Art, the foreman of the construction crew present, handed three pencils over to Little Bob.
Ticonderoga pencils aren't exactly the largest made, but in Little Bob's hands they look more like long matchsticks. Impressive hands.
"No offense Little Bob, but those are impressively large hands. Should've called yourself Small Hands Bob." Said Dave with a friendly smile.
Little Bob with a faint smile, "Yeah. I might just do that."
Little Bob broke one pencil and then another, just as if they had been matchsticks. And then inspected them.
"Yep. They're pencils."
And handed the unbroken one to Dave.

Dave the Slender guy, turned to the bartender and holding the pencil up high for everyone to see, "Ted, would you please sharpen this pencil, this beautiful Dixon Ticonderoga. Put the sharpest point on the lead you possibly can. Wouldn't want anybody to feel cheated. If even the tiniest bit of the tip breaks off, simply sharpen it again. I want a perfectly sharpened pencil as pointy as it possibly can be. I want everybody here satisfied."
Ted does his duty and hands the pencil back.
Dave holds the pencil up in front of the crowd.
"Little Bob, is that sharp enough?"
Little Bob assertively, "Looks good to me."

Ted smiles a little, "You guys ready? Get the smart phones out. This is going to happen quickly. Once it leaves my hand, if you're not paying attention all you'll see is a blur."
Ted takes a stance just like a baseball pitcher. Goes through the motions like he's practicing throwing a dart.
Ted, "This is it."
The pencil hurls through the air, eraser leading the way. Strikes the opposite wall with enough force it should've shattered into at least a dozen splinters and fractured lead. But like the rare shaft of straw driven into an oak tree by a tornado, it holds its form but rebounds as it spins and bounces across the bar like a pinwheel, skipping and touching down three times on the eraser head as it slowed its trajectory across the bar on its way to hitting the other wall, doing a dead drop straight to the floor between the bars extension in the wall where it finally bounced flipping into the beer mug.

There was dead silence throughout Mickey's.
Mickey was unable to see the pencil bounce into the mug from his vantage point, but what he did see made him realize something strange happened. He was going to have to have a talk with Ted. From his view, things still looks stable so he decided to sit back down at his desk until somebody became volatile.

Dave, "Ted? Everything look okay from your point of view? "
Ted, "Pretty fantastic, but I didn't see anything fake with it. And it's still just as sharp as when I cut it."
Ted turned back to the small crowd as he heard somebody chuckling behind him.
It was Little Bob. With a grin and an open wallet.
Little Bob, "Amazing, Dave. I couldn't do that in 1 million years so I won't even try. I need to pay Mickey for the beer, so these bills I place on the bar top are for that and the hundred dollar bill is for you. We good?"
Dave, "We good. Tell me Bob, was that trick worth $100?"
Little Bob with a smile, "Yeah. It was. But now I'm out of money, so I'm headed home. Maybe you'll come back with another trick another night?"
Dave, "Maybe, never know but it could happen."
It was almost midnight, the trick over when Little Bob exited the bar, started his Harley and rode home on a warm summer's night.

While in the bar, there was nothing but quiet tension as the remaining 16 patrons slowly realized they were going to have to cough up all the possessions they had on them. Little Bob got off cheap because he negotiated his bet. But where the rest of them thought failure was a sure thing, they lost everything.

Dave could feel the tension and he knew the drill.
"Okay guys. No hard feelings, I hope. How about a round of beers on me?"
16 grown men stood, completely still. Not a motion towards the bar.
Dave could see it on their faces. The sullenness of losing a costly stupid bet. There would probably be more verbal resistance from the two suits and more of the physical from the laborers. Same old same old. Not much changes in human nature.
It was the older of the two suits, the one wearing the spare tire, that was the first to challenge.
"There's no way you can make me pay for what's obviously a fraud."
Dave could feel it coming.
From the other side of the small crowd, Art the construction foreman spoke up, "Let's show this dude what we do with hustlers."
Mickey could feel it coming too, as he exited his office and racked a fresh cartridge into his Colt, "There will be none of that in my establishment. Everyone out! Now!"
There was a lot of grumbling, but the regulars knew Mickey was serious.
Mickey turns towards Dave, "That means you too, slick!"
Dave didn't move.

First guy to the door couldn't open it. Second guy to the door tried to help kick it down. And couldn't.
Dave folded his arms and leaned back against the bar and simply stared at Mickey.
Mickey took a deep breath and fired a round into the ceiling for attention.
"Now means now!"

The entrance to Mickey's would not open.
One of Art' s crew throws a chair at the large window that fronts Mickey's. But all it does is smash the small neon advertising signs as it bounces off the window glass.

Dave turns to a slightly stunned Mickey and snaps his fingers,

"My turn, lights out."
Last edited:

Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
Please forgive small errors in the script.
I'm using voice recognition that makes an error once in a while that I miss.
I'll edit what can.
Fortunately it's not often.


Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
The Pencil Trick continued:

Detective Gilmore had been recently assigned to Robbery. He'd worked his way through the ranks and much of it was patrol. So he'd seen a lot of strange things. At least strange on the surface but simple once a second look was taken. Mostly caused by exaggeration and lies.
Street people with their drugs and alcohol usually just added to the mess.
But this early morning was different and going to be a strange one. A one to remember.

The call came in at 3 AM to the switchboard but wasn't passed on to Gilmore until almost 4:30 AM because it initially sounded like a crank call. But an officer on patrol called back insisting there was an issue.
The message slowly passed its way to the Robbery department and into the hands of Gilmore.

Gilmore looked at the address and wasn't terribly surprised. Mickey Donovan ran a tight ship, but even though the neighborhood was tough, Mickey seldom let things get out of hand. From Donovan's viewpoint, trouble didn't generate profits. So there was Mickey's law and that involved the Colt 45 automatic he carried and a short barreled 12gauge pump shotgun under the bar for his bartender. Mickey seemed to have a reputation that followed him from California, but no rap sheet and no charges against him in Dayton. So trouble usually only involved the occasional fistfight down at Mickey's.

But last night had been different. And in a perverse manner, almost hilarious. If it had been a joke.
16 bar patrons had been found standing barefoot in their underwear, comatose, relieved of the contents in their wallets, now resting on the bar floor in front of each victim and their vehicles missing from Mickey's parking lot.
Gilmore looked at the last line of the message and frowned. Something to do about a hustler, a bet and a pencil trick.

The first thing that came into Gilmore's mind was, "This had better not be a joke. Bad way to start the day and I've got more important things to do."

But his mind was going to be changed.

Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
The Pencil Trick continued

The sun was coming up on a cloudless morning and the Weather Channel was calling for another hot and humid afternoon.

Detective Gilmore had put in almost half his shift of the day which had been rather uneventful. A couple reported muggings and a car stolen from a supermarket parking lot.
At least this was a change of pace, but Gilmore was never enthusiastic about callouts after hours, to the bars on the east end of Dayton. Too many fall down drunks and idiots gone mental from substance abuse, currently a meth craze.

But when he showed up at the scene, he had to admit to himself, there was something going on that made him laugh. He watched the last of a group of grown men standing in their underwear being loaded into a police transit bus, like sheep.
Gilmore parked his car in front of Mickey's, got out and approached the patrolman that called in the report, Ofc. Mike Stevens who was standing in the doorway.
Gilmore with a raised eyebrow, "Hey Mike. Been a while, how's you and the wife?"
Stevens with a smile, "Shelley and me had our first. 6 1/2 pound bouncing baby boy. We named him Mark."
Gilmore, "So? What have we got here?"
Stevens, "This is what they're saying. A skinny guy comes in the bar, starts a hustle and draws the crowd into a bet. You could say they lost their shirts, but it looks like they lost all their clothing, the contents of their wallets and those that had transportation lost it too. All except for Mickey and the bartender. And if that isn't crazy, they all claim there was a period of about two and half hours where they blacked out as a group. Mickey's Corvette and the bartender's Mustang are still in the parking lot. Five Harley-Davidson's, a two-year-old Mercedes and a new BMW along with a couple trucks and SUVs are now missing from the lot. There are two abandoned vehicles from several weeks ago that are still there.
They all claim, including Mickey, that the skinny hustler snapped his fingers, the lights went out and they woke up 2 1/2 hours later, the bar patrons in their underwear."

Gilmore, "Any signs of substance abuse?"
Stevens, "Smelled pot on several of the construction workers and two packets of a white powder on a table where several bikers had been sitting. For the most part, considering the neighborhood, I'd say they were probably cruising pretty light."
Gilmore, "You were first on the scene, what do you think was going on?"
Stevens, "I don't have the foggiest. Obviously more than what they're saying or maybe they were just pranked."
Gilmore with a smirk, "Or something. You can never tell in this neighborhood. Well, write it up as you saw it, no more no less, and I'll add it to the report."
Gilmore, "By the way congratulations on the new addition."

Gilmore walks through the entrance and into the bar where Mickey stands leaning against it with a frown on his face.
Gilmore, "Mickey. What's been going on?"
Mickey, "The bar got hustled and it's going to make me look bad."
Gilmore, "You got any enemies, Mickey?"
Mickey, "None that have the 'nads or the brains to pull off a stunt like that. The dude even left my car in parking lot. To make it even worse looking, out of the money he hustled last night, he put down enough on the bar to pay for all the liquor and beer that crowd drank."
Gilmore had to suppress a laugh at that. Yeah. That's going to hurt his business.

Gilmore, "So, what was the hustle?"
Mickey, "Skinny guy walks into the bar. Suckers the crowd into a bet. A magic trick with a pencil. To uptown farts in suits got mouthy, reneged on the bet and the rest of the crowd backed them up. Skinny guy snaps his fingers, the lights go out and a couple hours later all the possessions that they had here are gone except for mine and Ted's. Well, there was one guy that did pay up and left. A biker that they call Little Bob. Come to think of it, he's the only one that got out of here with a cell phone. Everybody else that was here, had them confiscated by the skinny dude."
Gilmore, "So?"
Mickey, "The skinny guy made a big deal about saving videos with their cell phones and winds up stealing them, all except Little Bob's. I checked my own security cameras and they went off-line when the skinny guy snapped his fingers and the lights went out. Little Bob might have the only recording of what happened last night."
Gilmore, "So where do I find this Little Bob?"
Mickey, "Don't know. But a couple of those guys in their underwear probably do."

Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
The Pencil Trick continued

Detective Gilmore decided there was not much more of interest to a group hallucination that went bad probably because of drug abuse.

Exiting Mickey's, Gilmore nodded at Stevens, a friendly recognition but noticed just at the edge of his perception, one of Channel 7's news vans parked in an alleyway next to a pawnshop several hundred feet down the street and on the other side.
Gilmore turns back to Stevens and says, "How long they been there?"
Stevens, "About 15 minutes after I came on the scene."
Gilmore, "Guess this will be their interest piece of the morning. Did they interview anybody?"
Stevens, "Yeah. Mickey, the bartender, two of the patrons and me."
Gilmore, "And I imagine they got a lot of footage, too?"
Stevens laughed, "Yeah. Lot of footage of half naked drunks being loaded into a transport van in the early morning hours."
Gilmore shook his head, "Only in Dayton."

But what Gilmore didn't realize, was that the fluff piece would only be shown once on the local morning news and nowhere else.

The rest of the morning seemed pretty much the same old grind for detective Gilmore. His shift would end at 11 AM and it was looking like Dayton was fairly peaceful this morning. But it was only 9 AM and there was a lot more to come.

Gilmore had finished writing up a tentative report on Mickey's when Parker walked into operations with a message for Gilmore.
Parker, "The Chief told me to pass this along. He might need you for a couple extra hours of overtime today. And it looked like his ulcer was really eating on him. Might be a good idea to get over to his office and find out what's going on."

Gilmore walks over to the Chief's office and spies two men in suits sitting with their backs to the large plate glass window of the Chief's office. Black suits.
Gilmore taps on the door's glass and the Chief motions him in.
Chief Van Horn was an angry man. Most of the time it was his ulcer acting up. This morning was no exception if only he seemed a bit more agitated than usual.
Van Horn, "Remain standing, detective. We're going to have a conference here in, hopefully, a short while. There will be several more arriving."
With a hand gesture, "This is Mr. Black and that is Mr. White. As you can see from their, hmm, costumes, they're government. NSA according to their IDs. I've been alerted there will be others."
"Detective, get everything you've got on this morning's bar incident and bring it to the conference room. Officer Stevens was first on the scene, arrange for him to be in the conference with his notes. There are other government officials inbound at this time and should be here by 11 AM this morning. So get a hold of Stevens before he clocks out."

Gilmore shuffles out of the Chief's office with a slight frown, sits down at his desk and opens the thin folder of what he thought was inconsequential. Thinking this was a typical workingman's night out at a gentleman's club, not much was written up other than the basic details.
Parker looks up from his own desk and says, "What's up with the chief?"
Gilmore, "Don't know. But that bar incident at Mickey's this morning just got hinky."
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Johnny b

Nov 6, 2016
It's not supposed to be lovely :D

Taking an extended break, but I intend to return to the mayhem. Eventually.


Dec 26, 2002
I first posted and wrote this poem July 02, 2006 ...


On the fourth day of July, in the year of 1776,
Our forefathers got together and came up with a fix.
The plan they developed was freedom for the USA,
No longer ruled by Great Britain we now can move our own way.

John Adams, Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and a few more,
Came together to draw up a document and lay down the score.
Freedom for the 13 colonies was the theme for this day,
No more control from Great Britain, now our children can play.

On the eleventh day of September, in the year of 2001,
Our freedom was violated, a gray cloud covered the Sun.
Though thousands lost their lives on this dark day of doom,
We can think back to July 4,1776 to erase all the gloom.

It's now the year of 2006, on the fourth day of July,
Our flag bears 50 stars and Old Glory is flying high.
Celebrations across America will honor this mighty day,
Barbecues, fireworks and yes our children will play.


Dec 26, 2002
I know there are many talented people here, lets show your skills and write a short story or poem so others can feed off of it and bring this thread back on track....😷


Dec 26, 2002
Only you can reveal your talent, so put your best foot forward and show us how creative you can be...

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