I haven’t written anything in a while so I turned to the archives. This poem was created by three people in college each taking turns writing a section. This was circa 1987 when we did this. At first I wasn’t that happy with the last part but it has grown on me so here it is in it’s entirety.
Bathed, she squats silently on a hill
pale and strong and unmoving.
She seems content to wait
Since she has no match and
forever. She is very bold and
set in her (or her creator's) ways.
Why not? Has she even a choice
or a mind or an opinion? She
seems learned in history in especial.
Though it seems fruitless knowledge.
She is frustrated, idolized, and stonehenge.
Left to himself (and not by his choice), he
stands, upright; facing the wind from across
empty fields. He seems awake but his eyes are
Since his will has no match and cannot
move [a hill], he tries to change
his (or his creator's) path.
Why? has he lost his choice
or his mind or his opinion? He
seems smothered in effect in circumstance.
Though it seems a weightless measure.
He is stifled, shunned and bane.
He is a cow.
(c) Norman Dziedzic Jr, Jeff Moles, James Peck