My Story

Once there was a little pug,
She snapped and snarled at every thug.
She had a brain, the thugs had none,
For they were crass and crude and dumb.
But when they gathered with their clubs,
She ran away, that little pug.
She ducked for cover, panting hard
And peered out with a pounding heart.


And when her master wasn't near,
She shook and trembled with her fear.
Her master came and chased away
The stupid thugs. And every day,
She felt okay, if he was there.
And when he wasn't, she was scared.

One day the thugs were growing strong.
She had been good, she'd done no wrong;
Her master kept the thugs at bay
With one low growl, they ran away.
But that was when the phone call came.
He had to go. No one to blame.

The little pug, she shook and cried.
She said she wouldn't stay alive.
The thugs were there, at her front door.
She couldn't hold them anymore.
She knew that she would be alone.
She got some money for the phone.
She banged her head into the wall.
Her master said, "Well, you can call."
She shook and cried into the chair ...
It didn't get her anywhere.
She prayed to god it was a dream.
But God was busy, so it seemed.

And that was when, with breaking glass,
Something, somewhere, came to pass.
Someone, somehow, cast a spell.
Against the laughing mites of hell.
And through the night time, something changed,
As if the stars had re-arranged.
And as she slept, we don't know how,
Her little pout became a growl.

And when she woke she shook a bit ...
Okay ... she sobbed and had a fit.
But only when she was alone,
Hidden deep within her home.
But when she stepped out of her door,
She wasn't crying anymore.
She looked the thugs straight in the eye.
She said, "So fight me. Please just try."
I have had enough of it.
I care no more, oh not one bit."

She breathed in deep to swell her ribs.
She put her hands onto her hips.
She stood on tip-toe when she spoke,
To not look up on taller folk.


She told the thugs to go to hell.
She told them she was doing well.
She grabbed her kids, said "lets go play.
Let's fight these creeps some other day."

Now many stories could be told,
Of how that puppy grew so bold,
Some stories haven't happened yet
The war's not over, don't forget.
Our pug has yet to grow full-strong ...
But ... wait a minute, that was wrong.
The little pug has no more time
To waste her lifetime with this slime.
Our pug is pretty, cute and smart.
She won a merit for her art.
She did what no one else has done;
Went round the world when she was young.


She crossed alone the stony steppes,
When she was sick and nearly dead.
She can write and learn, and knows
She makes things better where she goes.
Her education rivals all.
These pugs are stupid, new, and small.
They bat their eyes with pimpled cheeks.
They spread their lies because they're week.

Our pug has yet one crime alone.
She turned her real self into stone.
For she is not a pug at all.
She is a wolf who acts so small.

Now there's our story, that was how
The yipping yap became a growl.
The little pug has far to go.
But now she sees and now she knows.

While witches laughed upon their thrones,
The Lion breathed upon the stone.

The story hasn't ended here.
The ending isn't even near.
This is the beginning now.
It will be turned around some how.
And many battles will be fought
But one day it will be forgot.
One day the wolf will calmly lie,
And glare at anyone who tries.
And one low growl will make them run.
And that will be a lot of fun.

But this is how it all began.
The pug who always ran and ran.
She turned around and smiled and said,
"I am myself, and don't forget.
Now go away and let me be.
Because I want to have some tea.
And - oh, yeah, one thing, by the way,
Don't come again until I say ..."

Now that's my story, that was how,
The little yelp became a growl.

The world was black, but on that day,
Our pug became a beast of prey.


Written by Anna Vera Williams
February 9, 2008

Once I Saw a Cloud

Once I saw a cloud;
Cliffs around the edges,
With water coming down.
Only an angel could go there
Without being forced to drown.
It gave me a surprising feeling -
Was it an angels house?
And though it seemed big to me,
Was it only the size of a mouse?

Written by Anna Williams at age 8
Vermont, USA

Staring

Why do people stare?
Is it because they’re nosy,
Or is it because they’re not anywhere?
Are they really staring,
Or is something wrong with their eyes?
Maybe they’re just staring
Because they’re in surprise.
Do they know it’s rude to stare?
Do they think they saw a bear?
Or do they see a tiger or a lion?
I’m looking for the answer,
and I keep on tryin’.

Written by Anna Williams at age 8
Vermont, USA

Elf Songs

I stand alone
Beside the sea.
I watch the winds
Who follow me.

Stars are silent
In my heart,
And the whole world
Stands apart.

I sing softly
To myself,
Humming elf songs
From the shelf.

People glance at
Me and frown,
Puzzled, frightened.
I look down.

People pass me
By and they
Cannot grasp me
Look away.

Sometimes someone
Hesitates,
Looks at me and
Wonders, waits.

Sometimes I hold
Out my hand,
With myself
Inside it and

Hope somebody
Understands.
Saying this is
Who I am.

Very rarely
Someone sees me,
And I barely
Feel it frees me.

They perceive the
Hopes I haunt.
They believe the
Worlds I want.

Warily I
Squint and smile.
Someone loves me
For awhile.

Then they see the
Volatile
Things in me
Who I beguile,

And they tire of
How I grieve,
Lost like madness,
And they leave.

I sing softly
By myself,
Placing pledges
On the shelf.

Putting promises
Away.
People say them.
They don't stay.

Watch the sky
Grow bright and blue.
I don't want to
Frighten you.

Watch the worlds
Whisk words away.
Don't believe
The things you say.

I grow guarded --
Build a wall
Of smiles and irony.
I fall

Friendless, free
Into the far
And foreign sea
Of who you are.
And watch a star.

Written by Anna Williams at age 21

The Black Box

Which is worse - to wonder, or to know?
What lies within the place I hate to go ...

My stomach twists, my heart feels weary pain
Forever I search reasons to refrain
From visiting the place where shadows lurk;
Where papers wait, to tear my mind from work ...

I wonder what dark letters I may find
To torment me, and occupy my mind,
For days or weeks to come - but then again
I might just find a letter from a friend.

Perhaps it will be empty! Then I'd sigh
And know that, for one day more, I'll survive.
Perhaps there will be something I should know ...
I won't find out, though. Not until I go.

When I was young, my life was free and clean.
My letters were so few and far between.
A postcard from a stranger I'd forgot,
A note about a magazine I bought ...

But now those days are over. I remain
A prisoner of this dank unholy bane.
Some remedy there must be, to be had,
Before one day my Mailbox drives me mad.

Written by Anna Williams at age 32

Gilgit

Because the shadows would not rest
That played upon my brain,
And danced like daylight on my chest,
Like shadows of the rain,
Because the words I could not say
Were laden low with pain,
On Christmas day I tried to pray,
And almost prayed in vain.

Written by Anna Williams at age 18
in Gilgit, Pakistan
Poems by
Anna Vera Williams

About Anna:

During the day I work
endlessly... At night and
into the wee hours of the
morning, I and my laptop
journey into cyberspace
to find what adventure
we can... I have goals of
raising money to help my
family and thus my online
ventures.

You have to dig a
hole to China.
Where do you start?

The schoolyard sandbox,
of course. Everybody
knows that.

Please visit more of
Anna's work at Free
Poems. You can
also email her here.