Kobe


 * I //AM.....// **


 * I AM …a basketball **
 * I WONDER …who will pick me up **
 * I HEAR …the commotion of the humans **
 * I SEE …the hoop I’m trying to reach **
 * I WORRY …if I can bounce properly **
 * I WANT …to be used in a game **


 * I PRETEND …to be a soccer ba-, nope just kidding **
 * I FEEL …as sturdy as I can be **
 * I TOUCH …the ground once, twice, three times, four times **
 * I WORRY …when I’m alone **
 * I CRY …if it’s not basketball season **
 * I AM …ready to roll **


 * I UNDERSTAND …if I’m deflated **
 * I SAY …sometimes you’re there and sometimes you’re not **
 * I DREAM …of going into the pros **
 * I HOPE …of continuing my career for long time **
 * I AM …a basketball **

The warping night air having brought the boom Of an owl’s voice into her darkened room, We tell the wakened child that all she heard Was an odd question from a forest bird, Asking of us, if rightly listened to, “Who cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”
 * A Barred Owl By **[|**Richard Wilbur**]

Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear, Can also thus domesticate a fear, And send a small child back to sleep at night Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;"><range type="comment" id="313225">Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw =[|Fears of Heights]= The intensity is starting to swell over me, It feels as though I can’t hang on any longer, If I trip, I fall, if I don’t jump, I’m stuck,

It brings me back to the past, The first day, I found out My alkalize heel and couldn’t believe it, It drags me down always

Is it normal, am I special, Is this the big decision I have to over-come? I contemplate on it for many hours, Before I know it I’m on the move

There is a mountain on the other side of my village, It is an o.k. short walk to reach, but I do plan to come back before late, Hopefully, I would not go alone, but this is something that has to be faced alone, By me

It has been the <range type="comment" id="164520">longest short walk in my life, To think that me, of all people in the world, Would be cursed with this fear, But that shall end shortly, and as quickly as I said it, Started up the mountain

Ledge after ledge, it was a devilish climb, It didn’t take me long to look down,

Did I really come this far? To others, this may have not been such a big issue, But to me, so far it was my biggest accomplishment

Half an hour has past and I finally reached the top, When I got there I was determined to conquer this curse, I looked down with all the strength and energy I was able to muster up from the long climb up, I told myself, what a view and that was when I realized, I did it; I looked over the horizon and realized it was time to get back to my home, <range type="comment" id="434376">I was getting off the edge when it happen, Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh,

I heard a loud thump from below me and the sound of many rocks becoming one with the earth, but I was safely hanging by the neck of my shirt from the mountain, Not even five feet from the ground, I was alive, better yet, I conquered my curse. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">**-Kobe-** <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;"> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">**A poem I thought you might like:** <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;"> =To An Athelte Dying Young=

A.E. Housman
The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, and home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay, And early through the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade, The fleet foot on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel up The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curls The garland briefer than a girl's.