I am from a warm kitchen in the middle of winter
A cozy hideout with fresh baked sweets that taste like Christmas morning
Our cookies for Santa and twelve pies for the rest of the family
Plus one extra small just for me
The sound of Chipmunks Christmas
Led by that trouble maker Alvin
Rings down the stairs
As I slip into wet boots and snow suit
I am from that cold blast that wakes up your face
As I step on to the icey porch
I hurry through the snow along the side of driveway
Trying to keep up with the snow blower
Just barely quick enough
to not get burried as I go
Blasted with snow
My body breaking its flow
Pretending I dont hear myself getting in trouble
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2 comments:
I like not only how you have done an excellent job of portraying the setting in which you grew up, but also you. Your work does a superb job and revealing small personal details about yourself through the acute comedic lines (such as the ones about Alvin and the Chipmunks). I simply love the last line, it does an excellent job of closing the poem and leaving the reader with a somewhat satisfied sense of closure.
My favorite part of your poem, although all of it is great (you really have a knack for poetry), is the lie about your body being blasted with sow and your body breaking its flow. It is the perfect description. It remids me of when I used to be made to shovel the driveway. I'm excited to work with you in the poetry group, it looks like you have a good grasp on things.
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