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it’s christmas time and we’re ready to PARTY

ready to party ready to party

it’s christmas time

and we’re ready to party every day and night

we celebrate by in inviting by inviting  by inviting

we celebrate by inviting the whole family round for lunch

for our meal we have roast pork and crackling pork and crackling

pork and crackling

for our meal we have roast pork and crackling all with apple sauce

beer beer beer beer beer beer

wine beer wine beer and wine beer

beer beer beer beer beer beer

beer and wine to get smashed

the secret of this day is love one another love one another

love one another

the secret of this day is to love one another

and stick by your family

and all this makes christmas great christmas great christmas great

all this makes christmas great yeah

have a merry christmas and a happy new year
 Nov 2020 Gant Haverstick
Kristen
I watched the sunrise yesterday
It happened completely by chance
I walked down the stairs to get food
And gave the front windows a glance

And the sky that day was so pretty
All colorful, pink, orange, and blue
It made me reach out to my grandma
So that she could go see it too

I used to search for the grand
Memories, an adventure to last
Something that I'll recall quickly
When I try to remember the past

But lately my worldview has switched
And it's not a terrible thing
Big moments are great, but I think the small
Is what makes life worth living

I'm thankful for moments between memories
The ones that will often surprise
I'm thankful for life, and to live it
For love, and a pretty pink sky
 Nov 2020 Gant Haverstick
MicMag
sometimes you just
gotta sit down and write
just grab the apple
and take a bite
just take a leap
into the dark night

if you want to be a poet
you gotta write poems
let the words go
wherever the wind blows em

sometimes your lines will ****
other times blow you away
but stay firm on that writing path
don't be led astray
by laziness and perfectionism
saying you can't do it
don't give in, knock em down
push yourself right through it

let the poem be what it is
let its rhymes ring true
knowing as much
as you're writing the poem
it's also writing you
success comes
through failure
improvement comes
through the grind
go ahead
write bad poems
they'll make you better
in due time
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
.


Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity
All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
are like a slow website.
They might be the coolest site, but usually, people don't wait that long for them to open.
this has been just sitting in my drafts don't know where I heard this
My dad and I would spend sunny afternoons
riding our bicycles
through my suburban neighborhood.
We would ride down my street
until we reached the sidewalk that diverged into two paths
and neither of them were less traveled by
as we always ended up taking both.
The right path leads to the small waterfalls
just past the basketball court
where my brothers and their friends
would play pick-up games.
Riding across the tiny bridges is a moment of brief bliss
as the sounds of the water rushing reaches your ears
and drowns out everything else.
We’d maneuver to the giant lake
filled with brightly colored kois
and serene storks standing out on the rocks.
Following the curve of the water
we would end up in a private neighborhood
where the blacktop is so shiny and smooth
that your wheels glide across the entire street.
And you can go fast
since it’s silent
and no cars come barreling down the road.
Somehow, we’d end up at that beginning sidewalk
and now it’s time to go to the left.
Over here, there’s a small playground
where my dad would chase my siblings and me
and I would hide in the tube of the slide.
We could spend hours there
on our spaceship
trying to outsmart Darth Vader and the dark side.
Just past the park, we’d reach the stretches of green belts
lacing their way through the streets
and the bushes I flew into
when first learning how to ride my bicycle.
We'd take a left after the dip in the sidewalk
ending up back on our street
and deciding that it’s getting late
once the sky turns pink and orange.
We’d end up back at the cookie-cutter house
that I don’t live in anymore
but part of it is still mine.
I wonder if the kitchen is still red
and if the guest bathroom still smells like lemons.
I contemplate knocking
only to remember that there’s a new family living there
making memories in our pool
and playing in the basement.
I smile, hoping that maybe
they will ride the same sidewalks I grew up on.
I paste these memories into a poem
but there is really no need
because remembering the twists and turns
of my old neighborhood
is just like riding a bike.
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