#sled
Way above our little town
Sitting high upon the hill
The place we all called Christmas House
And I think it sits there still
We used to go there sledding
No one once chased us away
That place we all called Christmas House
I wonder if they still sled there today
To us it seemed enormous
All lit up with lights so bright
That place we all called Christmas house
I wonder if it's still lit up tonight
There was a tree in the front window
You could see it from the road
The place we all called Christmas House
It was a palace when it snowed
There were wreaths in all the windows
The arbor covered with red bows
The place we all called Christmas House
I wonder if anybody knows
It's been years since I have seen it
It gave all our hearts a lift
The place we all called Christmas House
To visit there, it was a gift
We went there every winter
We would sled, have snowball fights
The place we all called Christmas House
Was always lit so bright
One thing I remember though
In all my time upon the hill
The place we all called Christmas House
Was always quiet, empty, still
I know it's been near forty years
Since I left home, moved away
The place we all called Christmas House
Still sticks with me today
It's a memory of a better time
When the winters were much colder
The place we all called Christmas House
Makes me forget that I got older
I've dug out my old sled this year
To take home, back to the start
To the place we all called Christmas House
Is on a hill, and in my heart
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
it's white
so pure
so fresh
so clean
so tell me why the red that flows
looks like a scar, so mean?
it's sparkly
so fluffy
so new
so light
so tell me why the red that flows
looks just like blood, so bright?
it's racing and racing
and flowing and falling
leaves a scrape and a streak
as it runs down the peak
a strange sled of red
down a white snowy head
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 11:17 PM UTC
Winter can be fun too,
For me and you.
Goodbye to heat waves,
And iced chilled drinks you crave.
Adieus to flies bugs and bees,
Hay fever, poison ivy and also allergies.
Appetites increase,
Cooking and baking never cease,
Not to forget mending and sewing,
And over a cup of hot tea gossiping.
Fire-places aglow,
Whilst landscape is carpeted with snow,
Children enjoy indoor games in the basement below.
Sled riding, ice skating,
tobagonning, and making snowman can be fun,
With the promise of a glowing sun.
In the mornings dad's car can be stubborn,
But a little wooing and engine warm up it can be won.
Winter too is happy time,
More time for poetry, with rhythm and rhyme.
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 12:30 PM UTC
As I make a video for YouTube,
I go down to the mall with the real dudes.
I bring with me a mahogany sled,
Ready to go cause the security guards some dread.
I get in and go to the nearest empty escalator,
I chant a mantra that will be hailed by all masturbaters.
“Smoke Grass, Eat *** Sled Fast,” I say,
But I am accosted by a mans hearsay.
Her threatens me with the cops,
But I ignore this and go down for the props.
I’m then chased by the old ******* that reeked of sea tang,
And hear my friends shout, “SLED GANG.”
I run with my sled in hand,
Chased by the **** who dare brought up his ******** demand.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC