|
Santa is on his way.
|
Outside,
the wind,
rain
and hail
rattle window panes.
Lightning flashes;
distant thunder rumbles.
Inside,
oven scented pizza
with a garlic,
marinara sauce;
sausage,
bell pepper,
black olives
and melting cheese.
Chilled, foaming
dark beer
fills frosty mugs
with a hometown
German brew.
Flickering,
crackling
glow of warmth
from the fireplace
melting marshmallows
partnering with buttery
popcorn sounds.
Children laugh
with shinning eyes;
old lovers snuggle
under wool.
iPod Classic;
Playstation;
MP3 Player
wrapped under
a decorated pine tree
leading away from
that deserted road
called
‘Family Values’.
|
|
My Splendid Concubine
|
Want to review or comment on this
poem?
Click here to login!
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!
|
| Reviewed by Linda Law |
12/16/2008 |
|
| Lloyd, it was really nice to have such a Lloyd poem again... you have such a gift...and this one was cute and real. hugs, lindalaw |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner |
12/16/2008 |
|
You said so much in this one, Lloyd: well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Gene Williamson |
12/16/2008 |
|
Family values are, I suppose, in the eye and heart of the beholder.
Somewhere, though, there must be a common set of values that bind
us as one family, one community, one nation. It is to be hoped. I like this, as always, Lloyd. -gene. |
|
|
|
|
| Reviewed by Karen Palumbo |
12/15/2008 |
|
Funny about "Family Values". It seems the definition keeps changing to suit the purpose of the beholder instead of what it really means, amazing write...
Be always safe,
Karen |
|
|
|
|
Share
Print
Save