norm

dav

The green hills whisper their secrets of rain and sun.
The char from the summer fires isn’t gone or forgotten.
It rests beneath the lush grasses and vibrant bushes
And whispers its own secrets of flaming touches.
It pokes through here and there to ensure it is seen.
To be seen is to be remembered and that is everything.
For the summer winds will come again like always
And all it takes is a spark and the hills will be ablaze.
When the hills go up, some homes will surely follow,
They line the ridges and fill the canyons and hollows.
This cycle repeats every year, from green to brown to fire.
We sacrifice much to the pressures of the social norm pyre.

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viva la

Another silly poem post
Just because I like to write them most
Perhaps that isn’t true
Then again, who knows why I do the things I do
I don’t know, that’s for sure
The words decide where to go
And my fingers only work to assist
But this is the last you’ll have to endure
The last this month with rhyming flow
The urge for more, I shall resist

it is what it is

The holidays are coming. The holidays are coming.
Family and gifts and events and food and stress.
Don’t forget to bet who leaves dinner first fuming.
Don’t forget to wear your best suit or fancy dress.
That’s not festive music, that’s your blood drumming.
You’ve too many commitments, too many to impress.
The holidays are coming. The holidays are coming.
Aren’t you ever so very much excited?
I am. Can’t you tell? I’m positively beaming.
Or maybe that’s just a looming dread…

boom

They set the charges and light the fuse
And then seem surprised at the explosion that ensues.
Are we failing them or vice versa?
And why must we think of it as winning or losing?
Parenting doesn’t have to add up.
It isn’t a game. There’s no playbook, no ending.
Yet everyone who has ever been one
Thinks their doled expert advice will fix every problem.
The truth surely is far simpler,
Every child is unique and will be raised different.
What worked for the experts
Is a guarantee of nothing but days ill spent.
But this isn’t about that at its core.
It’s about two little hooligans from kingdom lore
Doing everything in their power
To work against the rule of the land, their parents,
And then being reduced to a cower
When facing the consequences their actions rent.

the one that ends in fire

And on the sixth day we rhymed
Because we felt it was about time
To have some fun with words
I know, I know, how absurd
But, here in the Kingdom that’s what we do
When all else fails to inspire
A poem will do the trick
But please don’t let this silliness turn you blue
I’ll soon light this ode on fire
And let it burn to the wick