Point Of No Return

O have you imbibed of the Pierian Spring?


O are you prepared to dwell

Where knowledge unbridled must soon take its toll


And where chaos can take you pell mell?                                                                                    We haven’t a moment to waste.                                                                                                       Take a taste of the Fires of Hell.


To me chagrin I haven’t tried to write for the  Dverse Poets Pub

in the past quite a while.  It’s Quadrille Monday so I’ve taken a chance on a poem of exactly 44 words~not counting the title~using one word provided. This week’s word is “Fire.”


the cousins


It’s the Fourth of July weekend in Hilldale, Pennsylvania, and all the local townspeople are having their annual bonfire. My cousins and I have always especially enjoyed it. It’s a nice way for each of us to get out his frustrations and, more importantly, to act stupid in an acceptable context.
My cousins and I have had such an entirely lopsided rapport over the years. The fire is only one representative example of all our odd antics, which, of course, no one else understands. We laugh. We reminisce. We watch strangers burn things. Are we a fun bunch or what?!