Friday, December 7, 2012

2 parts poetry, 1 part journalism, 1 part awesome

Last night while idly flipping through an old scrapbook I discovered writing test scores from elementary school. The grader determined I was afraid to take risks.

Based on this poem I wrote three years — which the Daily Herald published and I stumbled upon today looking for another story idea — I would say that is no longer the case.


Twas the season of Christmas, and all through the county
Frazzled parents are hiding children's holiday bounty.
The stockings are jam-packed and filled to o'erflowing
With the hope that St. Nick won't get lost 'cause it's snowing.

The children are ready, their lists in their hands,
Lining up to ask Santa for the latest Rock Band.
And mamma is cooking, while Dad's eating cake,
Both wondering how long Christmas dinner will take.

But somewhere around them, somewhere around town
Another family is treeless, their spirits are down.
'Cause Dad lost his job; with four kids and high rent,
There's no money for turkey, no gifts to present.

The lists are still there, and Jack wants a bike,
Sue wants a doll and young Clara a trike.
They're thinking of gingerbread, lights and reindeer;
Their parents are hopeless as the big day draws near.

So your neighbors are turning to you this December,
The sick and the hungry must all be remembered.
This holiday season, we all need each other
To give time, food and money, to help one another.

Now Provo! Now Orem! Now serve, Spanish Fork!
On Salem! On Alpine! On American Fork!
Buy gifts for the penniless, visit the lonely.
Make this Christmas a good one for many a family.

Certainly not a Norman Rockwell original, but I laughed.

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