some thought that i have for a poem.

i am kinda confuessed on what the stages of grief are.

a gold metall in athens,
a silver in bejing,
and the cancadians on our back door.

yet we the U.S.A. are the dominators.
we strive for greeatness sure.
but some of the greatest college players are not ours.

there is Danail Loury winning the WCWS.
and then showing her strength against the ' Dominatros'

i ask you know how did we loose to Austarilia with the metal on the line,
if all we do is win.

the sport is young to the international scene.
jus give us some time.

fs poem

Friends and Fun 

The batting practice and ground balls,
 the pops and line drives,
all this is just practice,
just another day in our lives.

Early morning wake up's,
breakfast on the go,
short shorts, sliders and cut-off  tops,
 it's not like we're in a fashion show.

 Double headers and late night games,
 weekend tournaments,
and practice in between,
 players, team-mates and best friends,
 for me softball never ends.

Brused up shines
and no more foul lines,
a catcher calling the shots
the pitcher hitting her spots


It's the winning hit,
it's the saving dive,
and playing with all your heart,
which keeps the love of the game alive.

The hard to catch fly ball,
 and the third strike call,
 it's all apart of the game,
 a game which you have to give it your all.
 in this unpredictable game of softball,

We endure it all,
the chily windy fall,
and the long cold winter above all.

Up here in Michigan,
we know that we can,
no ball will fall,
aslong as you give it your all.

As the summer gives way
the teams say good day,
just to start weeks later
fresh and new for the fall.

As teams start to practice,
fall ball learks in the wake,
thats when the real are seperated from the fake.

the leaves all fall
snow is on our back burner
school is just for the learner,
write paper after paper on our great game
and show its not a shame.

All in all I play for the fun,
going on the field to show of my gun,
to have fun in the sun,
a team going out to play as one.

more of my final submission

once upon a time there was this evil step mother. her name was Cruella De Vil, not really but thats deffinently what i felt like. she lived in this apartment with my prince charming of a father. he is roylaty in my eyes, he is tall, thin, dark hair, dark eyes, hard working honest man from a well respected family in the land of lenawee county. as for Cruella well she was from a very nice family as well, they had a nice place, a good restraunt, and everything was going good for them exept this one bad seed, Cruella. you should now this scaring image of her she had an over sized upper body and a tiny little head, she was about five foot nothing and was adicted to her cigarets and torchering me the perfect, inisent, daddy's little girl, middle child.

i should let you know that everything you read in the fairytalles about step mothers is oh so true.