In front of me sits a glass jar.

Once full now empty.

I want to smash it on the floor

but that wouldn’t solve anything.

I want to hide it away

but that won’t help me forget.

I want to fill it with coins, one for every drink I have. I worry it would soon be filled and would show my true self.

I know I drink too much, I know my jar was once full of tokens.

Each token a day I went without a drink.

The jar is now empty because I can’t face the truth.

Without a drink I remember, I don’t want to remember her blonde pigtails and velcro shoes.

Without my vice I have to confront the truth.

The night I ran her over.

Dundro stared at the giantic rucksack that lay on the floor. He made sure all his belongings were in the bag. Food, check. Food, check. Clothes, check. “There and back again”. Check. Sword, check. (The sword was, the one and only Sting). Mithril armor. Check. Food, check. Water, check.

Dundro huffed. He slung the bag over his shoulders and teetered around wildly. Maybe abit too much food.

Again he stared at the bag, cursing himself for even conceiving of this suicidal plan. He should have known better than to just simply leave Hobbiton with no knowledge of the future. The plan had more holes in it than cheese! For one, Dundro had no clue how to prevent a possible encounter with the Orcs. Neither did he know the locations of each of them who would surely be located around the town. Despite all that, how would Dundro even handle an encounter? He didn’t know how to use a sword in the first place either!

But what would become of him if he stayed? Only death would await. Who knows if the Orcs were capable of diplomatic problem-solving. And thus, Dundro sat contemplating his choices with Death curled up beside him.

It was not long before he made his choice.

Merry sounds here and there,

people waving off the edge,

children screaming with festive joy,

As the beauty set its sail.

No one knew

Ever for sure that

Death may come

And that death may reap.

Everyone felt safe,

Safe in the ship,

Safe as in heaven,

Safe as at home.

Then it happened

The merry sounds turned

Into raging screams

As the white ghost hit the vessel.

The vessel did shriek,

It did turn,

As everyone realised that

Not all of them would be saved.

The Captain shouted;

″ Let the women and the children pass first,

And let them be saved;

My dear brothers, Remember our Country

Be British, Be true. ”

The whole crew stood by his word

And they all stared back at death,

As he stood behind the wheel.

The women and the children were saved,

Saved by the courage of these men,

The men who will forever remain,

In the walls of history.

As we looked into the sea,

Seeing all those boats sailing away,

Knowing that all hope is lost,

Soon began playing our favorite song,

′ Nearer My God to Thee’.

The ship soon did sink,

Into the depths of the sea,

And our last grand performance,

Still echoes in the walls of history.

© Amal_Z

#poem #titanic

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I’ve been busy these days, looking for what to study in the future. So please do spare me if i did not respond to any of your messages, tags, posts, comments, etc. :)

Dundro was shook with disbelief as he held the ugly squarish sword he retrieved from the dead body of Farmer Sandy's livestock. Orcs!!! Dundro thought, as the revelation came to him. But what did that entail exactly?

The Orcs are hunting someone! he realized. He set the sword down, hands clammy and trembling. Oopsies, he thought. As much as the majority of Dundro had the right mind to give the Orcs a piece of his mind for depriving Hobbiton of kingly feasts, now he wasn't so sure. He didn't have nearly enough balls for that. He left the Farm rather quickly, leaving Farmer Sandy in suspense.

Dundro was back in Bag End soon enough. He felt much pity for the someone the Orcs were targeting. He looked back upon Farmer Sandy's speech laughed heartily. It would seem the bounty upon the perpretrator's head would remain uncollected.

And then he remembered. The vial. Yes. Dundro had almost forgotten about it. The vial was originally in possession of the Orcs. Of course they want it back. Dundro now regretted taking the vial from the Orcs in the first place. "Oh dear," voiced Dundro to himself. "I'm in a proper fix."

Because, of course, the Orcs were targeting poor old Dundro.

Almost in a trance, Dundro made for the old secluded clothes cupboard, in which he was currently storing the stolen vial. He found it in the drawer and juggled it glumly. How he regretted that fateful moment when he picked up that vial from the mud!

While holding the vial, he dragged his feet to the guest room and slumped onto a chair, deep in thought.

The Orcs were targeting him, so he was definitely not safe at Bag End. Yet, the only reason why they hadn't yet came for him was because of the simple reason that they didn't know where to look! Sadly, because of that, potentially all of Hobbiton was in danger as the Orcs would probably search every home until they found him and the vial, at which point Dundro would not want to be. On a related note, the killings of Farmer Sandy's livestock was already a mistake on the Orcs' part. Dundro was now aware of their presence and had all the time up til their searching of the houses to formulate a plan.

And a plan he did formulate. But Dundro was liking this plan less and less with each passing minute.

i always meet people who ask me,

“why the hell do you write.”

“why do you waste your time reading novels.”

well, i don’t have answers to their questions,

because they’re comments...

they end with full stops, not with question marks.

why do i love art?

is it because i love million dollar bills?

but so many great artists died poor. economically.

is it because it helps me heal?

but death and love always hurt. even in literature.

but why do i love art?

i

need

to

answer

it.

because i love listening to stories,

of life.

of people who are lost in the maze of life.

of incidents that i won’t live long enough to experience.

i read to learn.

i read to live.

i write to tell stories,

of my own,

of my beautiful ghosts,

of my dearest love.

if i could tell you what i’ve learnt so far;

a mute girl taught me

how she can’t lie but her life itself was a lie,

a queer cowboy taught me

how life is so much more than tags.

a doctor’s last day at college

taught me not to have any regrets.

a failed artist taught me

the beauty of the world is in its complexity.

a blind guy taught me

how he can see everything, just the way we can unsee.

there are so many stories to be told,

like never before.

i have words.

so many of them.

even if i had just a few;

i’d have shuffled them

switched them,

to write poetry.

why?

Because i want to live life....

you’re a cowboy like me; riding your horse, waiting for sunrise to leave for city.

'tis the damn season, you told yourself would be your last in the cottage.

even the dive bar has a drink on your name.

you look for smirk in every smile that greets you.

'tis the damn season, you told yourself would be your last on rodeo.

they don’t grow your crops, don’t even play your songs on radio.

you’re a cowboy like me; wishing to leave the small village in peace.

'tis the damn season, horseshoe rusted just like your blood when you told your folks about your sun-witnessed visions.

the spark in you has become a fire and now it’s burning where your soul meets your bones.

you wonder if you could be an eagle or would you be knot in tangled threads.

'tis the damn season, you told yourself to embody your intention and not plan your actions.

you’re a cowboy like me; tired of being grass beneath people’s feet.

ghosts tell you folktales when you asked them to hear ye.

'tis the damn season, you told yourself to use your lasso to cross the marsh of fervent believes.

because you’re a cowboy like me; left your place to find somewhere you could sleep with security.

riding your horse, you faded into silhouette.

i promise that i’ll meet you down the road because you’re a cowboy like me.

*

*

*

Book characters can be friends too! XD

Some weeks had passed since Dundro returned from his adventure. He resumed his normal life albeit changed, especially so by the strange vial he had collected from a passing horde of Orcs.

Up til now, Dundro had resumed his usual activities such as catching up with his friends, tending to his exotic plants, transcribing Bilbo’s book, exploring the remainder of the treasures at Bag End, and so on. The days were long and time trickled slowly, giving Dundro more time to do what he liked.

Up til now, that this. Dundro woke up to a different sort of day, not a day of adventures, no, but something slightly.

Dundro was aroused early in the morning by a great din. This was in itself extremely perplexing. He got up, exceedingly curious and rushed outside to investigate the source of the noise. No sooner than he had left the house, he was swallowed up by a congregation of Hobbits all headed down the road. Dundro approached a portly, red-faced man and questioned him where the crowd was headed to. He informed Dundro that they were making for Farmer Sandy’s residence, where he was about to make a major announcement. Huh, wondered Dundro.

Farmer Sandy was a farmer by trade, holding a high social class amongst the hobbits from all over the Shire. His repute was largely attributed to his astonishingly mouth-watering, lamb, chicken and mutton. Not only that, he grew and sold the most succulent vegetables around. And thus he grew to great acclaim as remember, Hobbits had an extremely high regard of food.

A few minutes of brisk walking later, they approached the large Hobbit-hole that was Farmer Sandy’s residence. Erected by the side of the hill was a great tent, under of which Farmer Sandy had placed a number of chairs. Some speech he’s giving, noted Dundro. Not long after he had taken his seat, Farmer Sandy appeared on the stage.

“My dear Hobbits,” he announced sorrowfully. “I have called upon you all today for I wish to make an Announcement. Not just any announcement, but an Announcement. I shall attempt to make it brief, but it is with much grief I would like to Announce that almost half of my sheep, cows and lambs have been killed.”

His statement drew a collective gasp from his audience. Scarce could they imagine life without Farmer Sandy’s scrumptious meat. What a torture that would be!

He wasn’t done. “I have also discovered, to my shock, that around half of my fields have been ravaged overnight.” This was too much for the Hobbits to bear. Most jumped up from their seats in outrage. No more steamed radish? No more buttery potatoes? NEVER!!!!

Farmer Sandy calmed (or attempted to) his audience. “I am calling upon you all to assist me in locating the culprit. A bounty of 5000 gold coins lies upon his head!"

This statement drew oohs and aahs from the crowd. He continued to moan and curse the perpetrators for quite a while in the same vein. After which he released the crowd which dispersed, chattering amongst themselves.

Dundro was intrigued by the Announcement. It was rather suspicious. Half the livestock and half the crop? Dundro approached Farmer Sandy and asked him if he could take a look at the damage wraught. This drew a look of slight surprise from the old man, but he agreed nevertheless.

Dundro proceeded behind the (Hobbit) hole to arrive at the farm. Farmer Sandy was right. It looked as if around half of his livestock was brutally killed. Slash marks were visible here and there. This narrowed down the list of suspects considerably in Dundro's mind. He walked forth, his stomach wailing at the loss of potentially heavenly dinner. He peered into the mess of bodies and limbs.

Something caught his eye.

It was a shiny, metallic object embedded in the body of a poor calf. Dundro pushed away some of the bodies to take a closer look, in morbid curiosity. He grasped it and tugged lightly. It gave away and Dundro was holding said shiny metallic object.

It was, in fact, a sword. But not just ant old sword. This blade was crudely shaped and squarish. It belonged to only one person (or persons, for that matter).

Most of us just live our lives trying to lead a life of happiness and get at least three decent meals a day. But there our others who question our existence. There our those who question the dubious Big Bang theory. While we might not know how life started, we surly know what clouds are made of. After doing much research I have come to a conclusion on what clouds really are. Hear me out.

Millions of years ago when the universe was still young, earth was covered in a blanket of trees. Besides the trees, the only other living things were tall rabbits who stood on thier hind legs and had stupidly long ears, and patapats: vegetables with the same texture and shape of a patato. These two life forms lived in perfct balance with each other. If a rabbit died, a patapat bush would spring to life. If a patapat bush died then a Rabbit would come into existence.

The Rabbits pretty much followed our hibernation laws. From spring to late fall the rabbits would get fat on patapats so as to store up for the winter months. The average Rabbit would eat 20 patapats a day. In the mornings they would wake up and stretch. You were considered a very flexible rodent if you could touch your toes. Then all the Rabbits would head out to go find patapats.

It was customary to travel in groups of 30+ rabbits. These different groups were like tribes. They would fight each other over patapat bushes. A leader of a tribe would be like the modern day dictator and would decide when to go to war, when the cooking patapats were ready, and were the group was going to stay in the winter months. They lived quite adventurous lives.

You ask how they cooked thier patapats. Well, I will tell you. Ever since the beginning of time the Rabbits had been cooking thier patapats. It was the strict rule of all the tribes to cook each and every patapat thoroughly before consumption. Failure to follow this law would lead to banishment from the tribe. This was bad because without the protection of the tribe you were buzzard food. So, every morning all the rabbits would go to different patapat bushes and collect the patapats in there ridiculously long ears. they would then lay their ears ladden with patapats over the fire and then gossip and talk while their patapats cooked. It was weird their ears never burned.

Glory and getting enough patapats in ones belly were the keys to life. When going to war, the two quaraling tribes would come with weapons of war. To explain this in a logical and reasonable way I will give you an example.

The Whopons tribe and the Guberfubs were going to war. To the battle field the Whopons brought thier Patnugs(rolling patapat cannons). Each cannon needs two rabbits to operate it. There were 131 cannons. The Gubberfubs, who were less in number, had brought their walking suits made completely out of tree bark, patapats, and liana vines. These suits were like 15 foot tall robots, and were operated by 10 to 12 Rabbits. 4 rabbits would control the legs, another 4 the arms, and the remaining rabbits would be crouched in the head, firing patapats at their enemies. The battle went something like this:

In the first few minutes the Guberfubs have already made thier way across the field in their suits and have crushed 39 cannons. The other tribe strike back and bring down 2 robots. 3 more robots go down as they sacrifice themselves to destroy another 47 cannons. The Whopons raise a white flag and they surrender. Half the Whopons tribes patapat bushes become the Guberfubs. I have just described a battle of these rabbits.

There were many other tribes. I will describe each tribe based on its wins and population.

TOP 10

Name. Population. Wins.

1. Yuproy 892. 24

2. Polinuks 689. 15

3. Sinrits 615. 21

(the Pulinuks and the Sinrits are always at war)

4. Trim 567. 18

5. Hunpon 494. 13

6. Dusnop 378. 0 (Peaceful)

7. Whopon 263. 17

8. Updapt 234. 11

9. Hirtyrug 211. 13

10. Gubberfub 179 29! (Smart Rabbits)

You have the details on their tribes, so now I will tell you how clouds came into being.

Every year at least 1 curious Rabbit would eat an uncooked patapat. They would then get quickly banished from the tribe. What nobody knew was that these Rabbits would end up as clouds. Some how the patapats dissolved the rabbit from the inside out. The Rabbit was still alive for some unknown reason, but their bodies, lacking mass, would float up into the air and apear to be white, fluffy fog in the sky.

One year there was a great war and all the rabbits died. Humans came along, but the white, fluffy groups of rabbits in the sky remained. Humans called them clouds. Many years later the rabbits can still be seen and when you hear the wind whistling through the trees, it is actually the sound of the rabbits talking about old times.

I made this all up. Don’t sue me Plz.

Hello Prose Friends and Family,

I have been on here for several years. Around this time of year I donate shirts and books to families in need. I had the honor of talking to a family yesterday that always seems to be sitting by a tree near the Walmart parking lot. She explained that they live in the car that their cousin let them borrow for now. I usually stop by their family and give them a couple of dollars and they are so friendly, and I feel so sorry for them. They had a home and they put out during COVID and they have been struggling since that. They were in a shelter but because it's 5 of them, it was hard to find one. I told her that I usually give out books and t-shirts to children during this time of year and I would hopefully bring them one back. I was almost in tears when she replied "I would be blessed with that because the shirts they have now are to the end, and they haven't had anything new since

last year." So now I am on a mission.

This is where I am asking for HELP. I have only a few shirts left and I usually give the shelters and some homeless people shirts as I pass them. Every year I ask for help to buy the supplies for the shirts. All proceeds goes to Fistchallenge4kids to buy books and T-shirts. I want to "Thank You" to all that helped me last year. We successfully gave out

almost 300 shirts and books to 17 shelters worldwide. I would love to do that again.

If you have spare change that you can donate to help children and families in need,

can you please help me bless them this year by donating to:

Fistchallenge4kids=

Cash App - $fistchallenge4kids

Zelle- Fistchallenge4kids@gmail.com

Paypal- poo3sha@hotmail.com

For your donation you name will go into a drawing for a personal made T-shirt for your kind heart. I will draw the name on July 4th. I will ship it to you where ever you want.

Thank you so much for your help. God Bless You All.

The Horde of Orcs were marching, marching. These were the elite Ones, the ghaash Durub, highest in rank and power second to only the Great One. He had sent his most elite ghaash Durub in search of two objects very valuable to him. He had instructed them to locate these objects and bring them to him. He himself was not strong enough yet to venture out, yet...

"There is still time, "thought the Great One. He sat in a mighty throne in a dark but vast chamber. Swiftly I shall complete my quest, under no one's eyes, and rise to my former glory once again. "And the, the whole of middle-earth will be mine to control." He smiled at the very thought of his global dominion, in the dim light of his subterranean Lair.

Meanwhile, the ghaash Durub were approaching the Great One's lair. After many trials and tribulations, they had managed to seek the items requested by their great one. It was a tough journey, and many in their ranks fell to ensure that these objects were safe in the hands of the Orcs. Nevertheles, their journey was nearing completion having successfully acquiring both items.

The Great One's musings were cut short as a hobgoblin approached him requesting permission to let the Ghaash Durub Horde in. The Great One chuckled gleefully and ordered their entry.

The Albino Orc that led the Horde came forth in front of the Great One. He bowed respectfully, producing a small chest wrought in stone. He opened the lid of the box.

The Great One was filled with excitement at seeing the most crucial part of his ultimate plan fall into place. So it could be reasonable to say that he was caught off guard when he saw only one of the two objects present in the box. He roared in fury, and the albino orc was shocked at his master's reaction. He glimpsed the contents of the box and was instantly stunned. He remembered quite clearly handling both the items and placing into the box himself. But what could have happened?

It was too late, the Great One was angered beyond measure. He roared with such force even the mountains trembled. He ordered the Albino Orc to search and secure the second item in the same vein. The Albino left hurriedly, not caring to stay one more second with his masters blood curdling rage. As he left, he tried to recall how he could have lost the most precious object. He thought back to the only encounter they had when returning to the lair. "Yes! The Hobbit! Of course!" he thought in a moment of realisation. And thus, he marshalled yet another Horde and left the Lair, making for Hobbiton.

As the Albino Orc rode upon his Warg, he gritted his teeth, vowing to slaughter anything that stood between the way of him and the second object.