Seven Horns Poem by Lawrie Stuart Ronton

Seven spiked horns,
The field it dawns,
On there by the right.
What a journey.

Horseback we ride,
Into gleaming moonlight,
because we reign up there.
Falling on rivers of relaxation.

Four points raise,
from the ground.
Upwards they came,
A threat. To all.

Jimbo quon kinzashc,
Ist metchc isq laz-ak,
My books over there,
Lay us on for that pass.

Nicely done, accurate old chap.
Roll on the ground,
Fine shot my lad!
This is the emphasis on life.