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.

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


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


The words stutter and stop
All I’d wanted to say goes with a pop
My mind blanks
My voice tanks
And then I grasp for anything worth saying
To fill the air that’s now silent
Before the awkwardness settles in
But the need to find something goes begging
And I fail in the long moment
To salvage the stalled situation

The words stutter and stop
My spirt and mood all drop
Why can’t I speak?
Why can’t I think?
I had a point to make just a minute ago
It was biting and worthwhile
At least I thought it was when it was spinning in my head
About truth and lies and what we really know
And walking that extra mile
To be better, expect better, not fall into the habit of being led

The words stutter and stop
Maybe my point was always a flop
Let’s go hide in the sand
That’s my kind of plan
We’ve become too polite for confrontation
Too timid to stand for a cause
Too busy in our own little world of five inch screens…
Or is it that we’re scared of the repercussions
If our view clashes with the social jaws
And we get ripped apart before we can even scream?

The words stutter and stop
Is it too late to start from the top?
Maybe if I do this over
My point will recover
But why should I even bother to try?
Does anyone truly care anymore?
Or are we just hunting likes and hearts and follows?
If I cared more I would likely cry…
And that truth shakes my core.
How can I expect more from others when my words are hollow?

The words stutter and stop.