Legends became one,
by risking it all to find...
what will become them!
The strongest rise with
Echoes behind them; no
Legend ever truly won alone.
Every victory carries
Fingerprints of those who
Refused to let them fall; no
Won alone.
When uncertainty tried to rewrite
Their name, someone
Whispered strength back into
Their bones; they never won
Alone.
Even giants leaned on quiet
Warriors, the ones who held
Them steady when storms won
Alone.
Greatness is a rapport, not a
Solo; every step forward was
Carried by hands that won
Alone.
Michaela speaks truth to legacy:
No hero, no survivor, no Legend
Even won Alone.
The old pecan trees murmur tales at dusk,
their branches bending low with whispered lore;
a phantom rider stirs the meadow’s musk,
his shadow slipping past the ranch house door.
The bluebonnets turn their faces as if to hear
the cadence of his hoofbeats threading through the year.
Some say he guards the dreams the lost ones keep,
and walks the night so Texas souls may sleep.
Inspired by warrior women.
They are every woman in future legends
By Michelle Morris
17/04/2026
Not every woman gets roses
Sometimes it's mostly thorns
So often they wish for flowers
But then reality finally dawns
Because there are these women warriors
They're everywhere that you go
They help keep this world moving
They always keep the lights aglow
No darkness can obscure them
No monster can keep them scared
They've overcome their fears
And no demons can get ahead
They go forth where Angels fear to tread
They'll stand strong against the storms
The winds cannot hold them back
They're brave yet soft and warm
They are mothers and they are daughters
They are sisters and aunts and friends
They are every woman who ever lived
They are every woman in future legends
Forget anonymous being a woman
For so many centuries in history
We are here to make a difference
We are memorable in our victory
Not every woman gets flowers
Not every woman gets what she deserves
But every single woman makes a difference
Please never forget their service
© Michelle Morris, 2026
Earthen motte mounds and bailey burg
Sludge strongholds severed for siege
Norman castles cut of stone surge
Vowed vassals, the lords of liege
Round refuge tower of ashlar
Lured strums of Celtic cither
While they tend to tiers of mortar
Howling high waters hither
Gemlike blades grassy shades of green
Sailing seas beckon smartly
Hair to partly pare ployed the teen
Pirate Queen awaits Bartley
Homeland hush weave no words but mum
Forum flouters of gainsay
Dark Lady of Doona they hum
Legend of the Blacksod Bay
Fortress chieftain forges her case
Ní Grace unbowed by Bingham
Royalty rises face to face
Let them lie Ó Máille clan
Lyrate luck of her Irish pride
Aside vassal villeins sought
Herstory harmonized resides,
‘pon castles cloaked earthen motte
Spooky legends or candy hearts,
which one will get your pulse racing?
Some seek the horror embracing
when the final high speed chase starts.
Others in tune with softer parts
enjoy the rush of slow dancing.
Spooky legends or candy hearts
which one will get your pulse racing?
A black cat or box of sweet-tarts,
which design do like tracing?
Wield the power of replacing
which one for you is off the charts?
Spooky legends or candy hearts?
Nashville Tennessee quite the destination.
Historical birthplace of so many illustrious careers.
Phenomenal live concerts and museums.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The snowy slopes called, Come out and play!
The chipmunks strapped into their tiny sleds~
Yip-yip-yip! through the powder they flew,
acorn goggles on striped daredevil faces.
Squeakers lead the way leaving fresh tracks in the snow.
Chippy followed, attempting a flip.
But face-planted straight
into a gentle puff of snow.
The squirrels jeered from their oak trees,
You call that a jump? More like tragic!
Till Squeakers nailed a backflip so grand.
The crows gasped, That’s rad, that’s magic!
The dusk settled-the slopes bathed in crimson gold.
The chipmunks share tales by a hot cocoa den.
Tomorrow? More chaos—more speed, more air~
‘cause winter was made for the small and the brave.
Being pronounced "Dead to Reason"
He murdered Her, the Scorpion King did, My husband, the Legendary Robin Williams did one sunny afternoon in his lead with Dustin Hoffman in "Hook"
His Dream was clear, a rough, clear man, a flowered vest, a ronin world, unlike its story sea of Sky and Rainbow Fairy bend and origin of the Stars called the legendary, mythological fairy World and Realm called Planet, Fllie, the size of Neptune, only Carbuncled and personified under each Blue orbital for the Stars.
He withheld himself, and made his Own heart smile, a faint glow of Innocence no one could see one outmatch for a billion Starry skies of Childhood Nephilim of the millennium falcon
And for that, his Flight was Merry, Mary. And for that, We, the fairy of the Stars, shall always remember Him.
Legends leave
one by one
time decrees
Beyond day
beyond night
beyond sight
Yet still here
memory
lets them live
Of Kings and Queens and magic rings
Sorcerers and Dragons
Of Knights and Squires and midnight fires
Wines from kegs and flagons
Of battles won beneath the sun
For castles in the sand
The mystery of history
Sparks the legends of this land
Legends don't die
and they never fade away
No longer let yesterday
stand in your way
Live life for today
Live with respect
instead of regret
Tomorrow's not given
So make today worth living
Let there be no mistaken
Though this world is forsaken
This life is yours for the taken
Keep evil out and faith in
While history repeats again and again
Long as we never accept defeat
We are the few the strong the elite
We will not leave you incomplete
love and honor we will defend
Fight the good fight until the end
Evil and sin will never win
Victory Is Ours once again
Legends don't die
And they never fade away
Their legacies are here to stay
Until the end of Days
Is the wind alive? That’s what the Choctaw believed.
The Apache called it, apocryphally, “the breath of the world.”
To them, the wind is the trickster you never see,
a joker on the plain of life.
What’s always arriving and always leaving?
What’s as old as the world, yet forever current?
Ever present and tireless, it seldom sleeps,
holding up jets, herding clouds like sheep,
filling sails, stirring leaves, causing rough seas.
What’s always passing, but already everywhere?
The Cherokee named ‘air’ the ‘keeper of spirits,”
because it sighs, cries, whispers and moans.
They credited it with great power and influence.
Today, we watch the skies with doppler witchery,
we forecast its path, with the gambler's odds - see,
the wind has turned on us, many times - like a tornado.
.
.
Songs for this;
Colors Of the Wind - End Title by Vanessa Williams
They Call the Wind Maria by Harve Presnell
Windy by The Association
Want my name on everyone's tongue,
the dream I saw when I was young.
In the books should be engraved,
over the place my statues be made.
Would be used as an example, for the victories, I'd gamble.
My name shouldn't vanish with waves,
scribble on the rocks, should stand brave.
Hundred years later, they'd remember me.
Legends never die, they just get free.
For Us
Like divine visions, they dance
and bouquets of roses are tossed over their feet…
No matter what they say, it consummates as poetry
and chills might run the spine…
They construct bridges
and go on to design dazzling towers.
Crowds gasp!
They tell and re-tell the legends,
braiding the fabric of generations…
They wander wonders
and inspire creativity…
They see rainbow lights ringing round souls
and look up with awe to glimpse heaven’s glory!
(c) sally young eslinger 5/28/2024
Thanks be to God…
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