Thanks Tim/Alex~
Update 416: A poem and a limerick. The poem was e-mailed to me by Beverly Sweitzer:
PERFECTION
I searched o’er all the world for one thing perfect.
I looked at castles and at kingdoms men erect.
To every land and every clime I sought
To see if somewhere perfection could be bought.
I gazed at landscapes of many a land,
Admired the seashores and cities of every demand.
I looked at everything that man had made–
Cathedrals and columns of every shade.
I saw the bright lights of a beautiful city.
I tried to understand but my heart felt only pity
For those, who thought perfection they could meet
In the skyscraping columns above the street.
I saw the works called art, in music and in paint,
But each carried the touch of man’s sinful taint.
I searched, but a perfect one I not find
In sorrow I vowed, nothing is perfect in humankind.
Taking courage again in my search, I turned
To nature to see if there perfection could be learned
From the beauty of rivers and mountains and streams
But none of these held the perfection of my dreams.
The glistening white of the snow, melts in the spring.
In fall, the leafless tree becomes an ugly thing.
The blue of the sky, when clouded, turns gray
The blossoms of flowers bloom only in May.
In despair I turned to my home on the plain
To find, in coat of burnished gold and black of tail and mane,
A horse, in all degrees, perfection ruled supreme.
The beauty of the stallion was the answer to my dream.
I’ve ridden in magnificent golden royal coaches,
Manmade monsters, but perfection, none approaches.
Machines of power and demons of space and speed
Cannot match the grace and beauty of that racing steed.
Oh, mount him to reach the goal of limitless length.
A thoroughbred giant of muscle and strength.
In all his magnificent glory, the indescribable king.
He stands above the world, perfect in everything.
Such faith and loyalty has never graced man’s mind.
Why then, did God choose poor and sin-scarred humankind
I ask, in all this world beneath the sun,
To be called the masters of such a one.
By all the rules of heaven and earth
He must serve in bridle and saddle girth.
He was made to run and he will obey
With all his strength and power night or day.
In all my wandering of the trackless years,
In countless trips across two hemispheres,
At last I found the race in which he could compete.
Barbaro, perfection, there to find complete
and the limerick from Susan E:
A LIMERICK FOR BOBBY
There was a young stallion of lore,
Who brought horseracing back to the fore.
Barbaro was his name,
Winning big was his game,
Till his right leg did break to the core.
To New Bolton young Bobby did go,
And much courage and grace he did show.
Strong, patient, and kind,
Bobby healed his right hind,
Till he suffered yet another blow.
Bobby had a doctor named Dean,
Of medical skills very keen.
Dean fixed Bobby’s hoof,
And attached to the roof,
A sling in which Bobby could swing.
“Swing, Bobby, swing!” said the NBC staff,
And “Show us your boing!” staff did laugh.
So Bobby did swing,
In his magical sling,
Till everyone’s heart did take wing.
More on this stallion named Bobby,
For him peppermints were a hobby.
The mints were so sweet,
He jumped to his feet,
And ran home through the NBC lobby.
Get well soon, Bobby.
