SHELLS

Sea waves an endless sight,

they crash on rocks and sand

as if they could land... smite,

but still the cliffs they stand.

Where stretch the searimmed land

are dots of dirty towns;

there built by sweat and hands,

there stands mans proudest crowns.

Weaves grind shells and rocks to beach,

a force of nature blind

relentless in its reach,

but neither cruel or kind.

Many a ship she sinks

and flatten homes as well;

though man with words can think,

their bones are white as shells.

TEACH  HIM  WELL

Tell the boy your darkest tales of war,

Give him your rusted bayonet blade,

Hold fast the turkey in its terror:

"Cut its head! What are you afraid?"

Laugh, laugh as the blood squirts:

"You see, it didn't hurt."