Poetry Contest Entries Lacerate

One hundred fifty
Stepping stones to joy
A walk in the woods
A hate to employ.
A faith that takes wings
A sweet Robin sings
A bullfrog barooms
His marsh concert tunes
A baby en ventre sa mere.
So much could be right.
But many just fight,
Despair, fret, punch
The fresh air.
Please poets, hoist up your rare flag.
And if prizes come don’t brag.
Was nothing before
Life showed you bright paths
Some friends, some scenes, some tales
That must last.
And you felt slight gist of the Trek.
Not worry, self-pity
Or Wreck.