POEMS

COLORGUARD PRAYER
When the music starts and we stand proud and true
Please oh lord! Let the judges like what we do

May I stay in rhythm; let me not lose my count
for I dread they will see and point me out

This I well know is not so bad but,
buy the looks on my instructor could kill my dad

I ask not for myself but for the whole
let us march in straight lines, and not on our toes

May my hands be true even though they're black and blue
It's the price we must pay for the toss's that get away

Protect me oh lord! from you know who
They couldn't catch a cold you know this is true

When the show's almost over and the fans are on their feet
keep me smiling that same smile, even though I can not breath.

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BANDS AT FOOTBALL GAMES
It seems that in the public mind today,
That bands and football are entwined to stay.
My history is weak, I can't recall,
How marching bands became entwined w/football.
They're not alike, by no co-interest scaled,
All that they have in common is the feild.
I'll come right out and state right where I stand,
That of the two my favorite is the band,
I've watched football for thirty years or more,
And never really cared about the score,
It's half time which has drawn me to the stands,
It's then that I can watch and hear the bands,
Not hear them well, the crowd is loud throughout,
Just waiting for the second half no doubt,
They've had poor training, you can always tell,
When the bands march, you're not supposed to yell.
And sad it is, when happens in this land,
Some fourth rate team backed by a first rate band,
That band applauds and cheers and plays, ahem, That football team should be applauding them!
Mine's not the view of most I understand, For me there's something special 'bout the band!
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MARCHING CONTEST DAY

Contest Day has dawned gray dark, in torrents of cold rain,
The band members wake weary from last night's football game.
It's been ten week's of practice after ten month's of plans,
To prepare for ten minutes before the judges' stands.
Check if the T-shirt's dirty, find band socks, what a chore,
Check the horn, where's that valve oil? A quick trip to the store.
On the way they know they'll want something on which to dine,
Today the city's TACO BELL'S note that business is fine.
Report prompt to the band hall, polish horns in a mass,
Lemon Pledge on the lacquer and fresh ketchup on brass.
Warm up, play through the music, it is so loud in here,
Take it easy, save their best tone for the judges to hear.
On the school's puddled car park in the wind and the wet,
March damply through the routine two more times and its set.
Last words from the director, then load up the truck tight,
Everyone board the buses, drive to the contest site.
Suit up fast, get those horns out, and warm up now with zeal,
They have done this many times, but now this time its real.
Clap, Clap, Clap Clap its started, Step, Step, Step, Step, it's done,
Walk 'round back to the buses, gather round everyone.
Not too bad in some places, some good marching as such,
But those three different tempos, were two tempos too much.
Load all up, hit the snak bar, with a much improved mood,
Everyone feels much better once they're filled w/junk food.
They announce scores at last and the band learns the worst,
It was sure far from perfect, but they do get on "first". Return late to the band hall, now a brief rest but, hey!
Can't relax now, the next contest, is just one week away!
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MARCHING PRACTICE
We practice each day since our great goal is All-State,
Sustained by hope and warm Gatorade,
"NO, THAT WAS RAG-GED!" "TUBAS PLAY LOU-DER!"
Do it again, such a mess we've made.
Go forwards and backwards, two eights then three fours,
Get to our spots 'fore the music's done.
"STRAIGHTEN THAT FRONT ROW! "
"HOLD YOUR HORNS HIGHER!"
Do it again, isn't this such fun?
We've marched and played 'cross this wide field for ho-urs.
From set to set under a hot sun.
"NO! ITS NOT RIGHT YET!"
"GO BACK TO SET ONE!"
Do it twice more before we are done.

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We Are The Show

The time between seasons drags
And the days click by like dominoes
One by one they tumble over
Countdown to begin the show.

Then finally the season starts
The date is set, the time, the place
We organize another year
The calendars fill with practice dates.

Tosses, spins, amazing grace
The music haunts us day and night
Foot here, hand there, the flag in place
Practice, practice to make it right.

Performance faces, focused eyes
The music fills our hearts once more
Just like in practice all those times
We dance across the wooden floor.

A show well done fills up our hearts
The end result of hours strained
We burst with pride when we know it's good
And when it's not, we burn with shame.

All our shows improve by bounds
The season moves on faithfully
And all too soon it has to end
When it's all over, where will we be?

A little wiser, a little sad
To see another season go
But knowing we'll always treasure the time
When together, we were the show.
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Those horrible, hot days of summer band camp. Rehearsing drill until your legs burn. Doing the show until you are positively sick of the band director saying "lets do it one more time," loading and unloading instrument, carrying flags and props on and off the field with the timing of a military offensive, day after day after day. Ice to relive bruises on wrists, foreheads, ankles. Swollen lips. Doing push-ups. Standing at attention for five more minutes than you can bear. Sunburn. Wanting to sell yoursoul for five more minutes of sleep. Flags in the face, rifles in the ribs. wanting to give it all up and join the chess club. Hearing the show music in your sleep. Sectionals. Heartburn, Heartbreak. Drumming on everything in sight. Tossing anything you pick up. Thinking marching band was a stupid way to get out of PE Running laps because someone else was late, again. Realizing colrguard looked a lot easier than it is. Doing mor push-ups. Wondering what happened to your life. Eating dinner in a car while changing and doing your homework. Lost shoes and lost mouth pieces. Blood Blisters on your palms. Long underwhere under your uniform and icy wind in your face. Learning the fine art of sleeping on a buss. Tears and teasing. Learning yo have 200 new brothers and sisters who stick by you through thick and thin. Know you have 300 new parents who will cheer for you, no matter what. Laughing with others and learning more about yourself than you ever though possible. Doing more push-ups. Thinking the show will never work. And then finally, it comes together and you have achieved perfection. Drumming you hands off, playing you brains out, and tossing higher that the sky. A slice of time in a stadium when everyone cheers and your mom cries and pictures get taken and once, just once, you have the world in you hands. And the band marches out of the stadium ad down the street, always together whether it's success or not, and you know by the feeling in your heart that it doesn't get any better than this. And you know that if your director asked you to turn around and "do it just one more time, a little better," you would.
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What it's like

Adrenaline pumping hearts beating,
Fingers throbbing, music leading.
All a part of a sport called colorguard,
The taste of sweat, you know it gets hard,
But ask any teammate, they'll probably say,
That's ok I like it that way.

All teammates are friends, each helps the other,
But practice isn't a time to call for your mother.
Tough it out, the coach might yell,
but with that phrase the attitudes swell.

Then those famous words come a new,
Set it up once lets do a run through.
Your music ends and you're breathing quite a bit faster,
You did a good run and you think you're the master.

Time to load the truck, it's not that bad,
Every one helps, even the dads.
Now time to relax, getting on the bus,
Now wait your hair now there's a fuss.
The gel, the spray, it all goes on there,
And now you don't even want to touch your hair.

Put on your makeup so it'll look right,
Don't mess it up, we don't want to fight.
Put on the headphones and litsten to "your" song,
Listen, relax, it won't be very long.
The bus comes to a stop, everyone knows that they're there,
Someone wakes you up and you check your hair.

Get all your stuff people and get on out here,
Now it sets in, just a little bit of fear.
You get to your room and take of your shoes,
Take a deep breath, there's nothing to lose.

Warm up and stretch out, get that equipment flying,
Don't busy yourself yet, don't want to see you crying.
Get your equipment and get ready to go,
Line up in the hall to put on your show.

They pull all the equipment on to the floor,
You step a little bit closer and look through the door.
The crowd is huge, you don't think you'll make it,
Breath nice and slow, you know you can take it.
It's your turn to put on your show,
Walk with pride you know it will flow.
Is the guard ready? Ya you think so,
Kafman High School you may present your show.

Look up at the crowd, make sure they see you,
It's your last chance, don't let this thing beat you.
Vibrant flags fly fiercely over head,
Catch it right or your arm will red.

Crack that flag, you know you can do it,
All right, nice job, I knew you knew it.
Here comes the end, don't break down just yet,
It will be awesome, this is what I bet.

The zip of the flag, the final snag,
It looks great, you got it in the bag.
With hands trembling, you get up and say,
Yes, see I told ya I like it this way.

Watery eyes, spontaneous combustion of tears,
Screaming, excitement initiated cheers.
Go ahead let it out, you gave it your all,
Don't hold back, admit it, you had a ball.

You showed all those people what you got in you,
Some pain, some love, need I continue?
Some strength, some friendship, some talent, and grace,
You spread it around all over that place.

Just when you thought you were gonna be knocked down,
You bounced right back and refused to go down.
With all those going for ya, where next from here?
Do you know where you'll end up next year?

This is what makes up a colorguard,
Some people try but don't make it because it's too hard.
All the stress and the anger, some people can't take it,
And somewhere inside they know they won't make it.

All of my teammates have this desire,
Something in their heart that lights a fire.
To do all they need to, to pull off a show,
But what I hate the most is to see them all go.

So just a little something to say to my girls,
To me, you mean the world.
I love you all and I want you to know,
I'm so proud of you guys and our guard show.

I really, down deep, don't want this season to end,
I'm gonna miss it all so much and all of my friends.
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"Color Guard"
Flags . . .
Rifles . . .
Sabres . . .
Glitter and grace
Colors, bright and lively
Music over the loudspeakers blare
One by one each guard performs
People applaud each on loudly

Art In Motion

Flags moving in sweeps of color
Slap of the rifle strap after a solid quad
Roar of the crowd as a six is caught by the sabre line

One girl with a grin of happiness of doing something right
Another's face clouded by the regret of a mistake
Another in tears of pain

For what?
Fun
Joy
Entertainment

The members come off the floor
Tired
Hot
Excited
Leaving their all on the floor
The are praised
Commended for a job well done
No matter what the outcome
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A Job Well Done

Dragging along wearily, feet scuffing the floor
So relieved to finally enter home's door
Baggage is shed and forgotten for the night
Crawling up the stairs requires all your might

As you wash away all of the sweat and the tears,
You know that this day will stand out among your years
The pains of an aching body and tired muscles fade
With visions of crowds screaming your name
Bright lights and brilliant colors flash before your eyes
You're there amid the drums, the wails, and the cries
Of all those pushing and straining with you to win
An effort to avenge the losses that have been

And when the victory's won, and the screams subside
After the last embrace, once the tears of joy have been cried
You can finally rest, for the day has been won
Sinking against the pillows, a job well done

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When the Lion lifts his mighty head
He roars loud enough to wake the dead
he struts around and says "I'm king"
While his pride works for his well being
Oh, such a mighty beast is he,
King of all that he can see.
When the lion roams the land,
he sees himself within the plan.
But, sees his family and how it lives,
Each member plays a role and gives.
See how they work within the plan,
The mighty beasts that roam the land.

The Lion's name we find is "Sauce"
Yup...he's our mighty Boss.
His family though, is quite grand,
They are the Carmel Marching Band.
Each one of them, big and small,
Know that they could win it all.
They sometimes get caught up in other things for a while,
Then comes along that push from Kyle.
The on top with the greatest view,
We find leading then was J. W.
Sometimes, some may be out for a cold or hepatitis,
But, the one more often caught disease was "Panty-itis!"
They all travel in a pack and walk with their TOES UP,
And then even welcomed in Mallorie, their new young pup.

There was a lot of life given to the pack,
Especially from Dave, but just enough to stay on track.
Seniors, Juniors, Sophomores and Freshman made up the four
divisions, In each, they carried in with them some strong visions.
They thought of things that would help the pack as a whole,
And to help each one to become a stronger individual.
The pack would always try to fight against the weather,
And even in the worse, they made it by working together.

But, the pack would never survive without Charlie and the guard,
For they had weapons, and to beat them would be hard.
And even though they wore too much make-up and curls,
They were a bunch of tough, hardworking girls!
Although we lost our dear friend Frizz for a while,
She came back to us with the same sweet smile.

With all the percussion looking just so fine,
Great rhythms could be heard from our pit and drumline.
And with "Mac Daddy" tapping and dupping at the lead,
"Metronome Mike" is the one who keeps the speed.
With the "farts, toots, and whistle" sounds from our pit,
IT gets the pack in to a laughing fit.

Split into 9 different instrumental sections,
May traditions became long-lasting resurrections.

Starting with the flutes and piccolos, O MY!
Their high shrilled sounds reach far beyond the sky.
With all their good luck jewelry, shirts and braids,
Bailie's head was the one that got absolute praise.

The Clarinets would always do whatever it takes,
Even if it meant actually trying Janet's pancakes.
And with Jessie at the head, and no-one at the rear,
"Come on Guys!" was the shouting you would hear.

The Bass clarinets, even though they are small,
They are a part of us after all.

Then, we come around to the beautiful sax,
Where everyone puts their playing to the max.
And they are lead by "Big Bad Rob"
Who always seems to fulfill his job.

Around the circle we find the mellos,
They are a group of fine young fellows.
Everytime they travel, the load up on candy,
And they all owe thanks to Amanda, Sarah and Brandy.

Next, there's the awesome trumpet,
All those players like to PUMP IT!
In a nice long file they're always standin'
They get their support from mighty 'ol Brandon.

Also meet our wonderful Tones and Bones,
A team that has some of the greatest tones.
They are the coolest gang in the hood,
And their marching style is better than good.

The contras are the lowest of the lows,
They keep the band on their toes.
The newest contra was freshman Bob,
The other guys made him a part of their mob.

But really, the staff is the reason for our success,
Because they knew our accomplishments were limitless.
There were times when some would get mad or cranky,
But on bad days, no-one could outdo Mr. Kreke!
He was the guy at the back of the form,
who was a little out of the norm.
Then, the one who knew it when we missed a note
Huh, that was Mr. Pote.
I was told to watch out for his evil claws
But I wasn't afraid after seeing that HE wore bras!
But they put us together and made us a team,
And helped us to fulfill our dream

Now I conclude just to say,
Thanks to all, for giving us those memorable days.
So, in the end, the lion can rest,
Knowing that he did his very best!
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The First Show

When we first started camp we knew nothing at all,
But now we stand on the field straight and tall.
At first the drop spins were a bit off,
But now, oh boy, do we show them off.
And when we first stepped on that field we were so lost,
When we ran into band member, we sure paid the cost.
But we pulled through even though it was hard,
It has it?ewards afterward.
We owe our thanks to instructor,
And to our choreographer too
Without their support we would not have pulled through.
And without our strict captains this could not have been done,
They made it all seem so easy, and everything fun.
To the Freshman who have tried their very best,
Never asking for a break or a chance to rest.
The upper classmen have been so kind,
Even when some one drove them out of their mind.
Now the time has come to put our work to show,
On your mart, get set, time to go.
Good luck to you all, I know you'll do great.
Hurry up now, don't be late!
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LETS MAKE SOME MAGIC

Lets make some magic
Lets do it right
Do it with heart
Do it with pride

Hold your head high
Do not be afraid
For fear can destroy
The magic we've made

We have the power
We have it inside
It shows in our progress
It shows in our eyes

Though pained and exhausted
We will not give in
We have the magic
That makes us win

Lets create an illusion
We have the strength
To open locked doors
Deep within

With every flag toss
Every step of the dance
Lets make them smile
Lets take this chance

Come on gang!
Lets show them who we are
Smile from the soul
Reach for the stars

Take them from reality
Cold and tragic
Find a place in their hearts
Lets Make Some Magic!

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I am in the Guard
Tis where I belong
There is no other
Group or throng

All I know
Is twirl this dance that
And I do it all
With the grace of a cat

I thrive on flags
Rifles and poles
Bruises and bumps
Adorn my skull

Guard geek I am
Stand proud and tall
Nothing I wouldn't do
To give my all

To give my all
And then some more
Is the only way
To enter that door

At Perfection's door
I knock and plead
I aim for its glory
I sweat and bleed

I am a Guard
This is my creed
To have that card
of Perfections breed.

______________________________________

Alexandria Dance

dancing to the music
i'm lost in the sound
surrounded by air
I cant feel the ground
Feeling the rythmn
inside and through
my body and soul
what can i do
if oyu just loose control
and let your emotions flow
you can show them your grace
and show them you know
just what it means
to truly dance
relive the music
capture their glance
and then you will have
what it takes to perform
and soon surpass
the average and norm
the rythm, the music
all of us know
the rest comes from you
YOU make the show

Color Guard Family

We practice 24/7, we're on the road constantly, we bicker and fight,

we feel like we don't do anything right.

But when we're out on that field or on that court, we forget our troubles

and pray that we do the routine perfect.

We try and try, yell and scream, leave and blow off steam.

But I could not live any different, than with my guard.

We have paint fights, eat at Taco Bell, hit each other, laugh together, scream together, and cry together.

I love you my girls don't you ever forget it even when we are 2 less and we're fighting.

So if you ever doubt, even for a moment that we're a family, look back in your memories and find the good times.

-- Barbara (Marty)