Explode: A Poem about Azteca

Ambrose sent me to a new world

Full of prehistoric life

After despair was unfurled

From a quetzal from their strife.

(Oh, Kingsisle, don't you know that

Quetzal is a tropic bird?

Your "quetzal" winged snake shows that

You did not research the word.)

Anyway, this desperate letter showed

That soon Azteca would explode.

Despite the one quetzal mistake

I was ready to forget

All of Azteca seemed to shake

From Xibalba, the comet.

(Oh, Kingsisle, don't you know that

Your players need to care?

Your thinning characters show that

The dinosaurs miss that flair.)

As I through buggy jungle strode:

"I wonder when it will explode?"

After weeks and weeks of grinding

All to stop that deadly rock

I was panting, groaning, finding

That I'd gotten quester's block.

(Oh, Kingsisle, don't you know that

Tedious does not mean hard?

Your crawling pacing shows that

Players' excitement's marred.)

All I could think was of this mode:

"When will Azteca just explode?"

After solving every small whim 

Always feeling just the same

My rage finally did me in

"Is this dratted thing a game?"

(Oh, Kingsisle, don't you know that

Rage inspires mutiny?

Your painful "game" quests show that

There is not much left in me.)

From one thought my mind would implode:

"I wish Azteca would explode!"

The Trouble with Winter

When calendars change to their very last page

And December begins, feeling like a new age

The sparkly new season's alive and on stage

As everyone cheers -

But the end of the old year brings fresh doubts anew

As you think of the promises that never grew

With old resolutions you unknowingly slew -

The passing of years.

The winter's new weather is chillingly fun

The fresh-fallen snow sparkling in the sun

And hot cocoa's passed around to everyone

The glory of snow -

But I dream of the weather as outside, it's cold

Somewhere else in the country it snowed, I've been told

But this barren, dead grass is depressing and old -

The freezing winds blow.

Spontaneous singing, the carolers play

The holiday spirit is shown day by day

The pine tree decor makes a gorgeous bouquet

And Christmas is near -

Of the month of December, it's only the first

With carols since Thanksgiving Day I've been cursed

And Santa's on every street corner: the worst!

The headaches are here.

The passing of time makes me ponder my year

The beautiful weather is snowy and clear

The season is filled with excitement and cheer

My feelings splinter -

For despite that the new year's exciting and fine

The sky seems to think that for snow, it's not time

The carols are only an annoying chime -

That is the trouble with winter.

I hope you enjoyed the little poem - an update of sorts should be up in a few days!

- Sophia E