Trophy Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Trophy

Damn with the Rudyard, Kipling;
From me, he never gets any trophy.

He is no champion; call him "Thief, "
He stole "Joshua" and made it:
"The man who would be king."

I wonder if poem that is said:
To be his "he wrote it at fourteen"
(On, about Great War,)can be his!

My friend, unlike him
And those on magazines
Is humble, and worthy.

He fills the hearts and minds;
Is simple, clear, inside-out.

Kipling was killer and racists
Read "Boer, " and his "Kim."

My friend is honest
He skis and trains
Not for name, nor for fame
Not even to earn, gain.

He, too, has trophy
His name is carved on it.

His nickname: "Jokingly, "
Always laughs, is funny.

Said his son, smiling:
"Let's keep this trophy.
It has name and is vase,
We can use when you leave;
It withholds you remains
In the form of the ash…
We'll have you forever."

Jokingly retells; laughs!