Friday, July 24, 2009


We stand in opposition
across a chasm wide,
a length of rope between us,
our footing well in stride.
A flag to mark the center
stretched above the muck,
our stand-off's purely physical
and not so much on luck.
Our stance becomes more static,
the tether tightens too,
the winner sure will be the one
that doesn’t land in goo.
We both pull at the signal,
our muscles flex and strain,
this bold attempt to hold our own
is evident through pain,
you right foot starts to hydro plane
across the moistened grass,
but my purely cocky attitude
just put me on my ass.
So you continue pulling
while I just slip and flail,
sliding face first in the mud
through poor attempt, I fail.
This winner take all Tug O’ War
has placed me on my knee,
“One tug doesn’t prove a thing”, I beg,
“Let’s go two out of three”!

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