Collection of Heart Warming Hearth's Warmings

by SwordTune

Clover the Clever's Holiday Poems

A Pony was Phony

If you see a horse with a beard and a horn,
it could be you've seen a real unicorn.
Or it could be some trickster's toy horn
to fool you to trust him from dusk until morn.

Do not be taken in and I think it is best
To make every horse pass the unicorn test.
Go slow and look wisely when ponies aren't humble.
Ignore them their horns and think not of their beards.

It's best to be cautious of ponies with horns
All should be humble, even great unicorns.

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A Windigo Doesn't Know

A windigo goes from the west to the east.
He'll search for a conflict to turn to a feast.
He'll turn mild winters into a storm
so when you make trouble he starts to take form.
He eats up your magic in happiness' shape
then pluck out your eyeballs like they were a grape.
A spat here and there is all it will take
for him to bake cakes out of your hate.
And a windigo doesn't know how to stop.

There's literally nothing a windigo knows
but hunger for strife and strong winter snows.
He'll grab for the critics and cynics and criers
and chase after grouches and slouches and liars.
Takers and hoarders should stay on their legs
the windigo curse will hunt for their beds.
The spoiled and wrathful are never safe,
so make peace you ponies, make it with haste.
For a windigo doesn't know how to stop.

Quickly a windigo hunts door to door,
always he's eating and asking for more.
Fear not just these spirits who walk on this land
but ponies and creatures who take what they can.
For a pony who's greedy will seem to you
to be no different to those who argue.
They'll cause you more trouble if you don't beware
for the greedy are needy, they want all to be theirs,
Like a windigo who doesn't know how to stop.

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Enchanted Chartreuse/Fuchsia Cloak

Some towns have gold mines,
some town just farm.
This town had traded
with others for warmth.

Some got wool cloaks
others had cotton
but their leader's luck
gave more than any had gotten.

A new, magic, chartreuse, blue
Fuchsia, red cloak so bright
It glowed like the sun,
a glittering, supercharged light.

Its thread was woven, it seemed,
from powerful strips of lighting bolt beams.
No pony could imagine wearing such
A thing, not even in dreams.

The leader was Joke Sift and his village, it's said,
noticed the difference and grew very upset.
Because the trader had favoured the leader
for more wealthy commerce in the near future.
Ponies named River, Barmy, Digger, and Cutter
and Cinder and Ashen were mad to a fault.
They formulated plans to bring Sift to a halt.
"It'll worsen," said Ashen, "if traders like that,
Treat Sift like he's the one customer they have."

"I'm wearing this cotton, a plain undyed piece.
It's soiled and dirty and worn to me knees,"
said River. "I bought it the same time,
when the trader was here. But Sift's cloak
is sturdy, made much less common than mine.
Why did he not share his fortune, when offered
the cloak?"

"I tend to our village, not farm simple grain,"
said Joke Sift when asked, simple and plain.
"I lead and talk and I watch like a hawk,
for all the good traders and what they have stocked."

"That work is not hardy," said angry Barmy,
"And is is not fair, that this cloak is your share."
Cinder and Ashen both spoke with more passion,
"Enough is enough, we'll give you no bread."
"And no firewood too," said burly-hoofed Cutter.
"If you want to stay warm, add covers to your bed."

The story ends sadly, I'm sorry to say.
Without his village, Sift turned hungry and grey.
He moved like a sloth, barely could talk.
He had himself no grain, not one single stalk.
He died dressed in that cloak, his treasured possession.
From his fate, ponies, you'll learn a good lesson.

The village was selfish, it has to be said.
To punish makes justice, to murder makes dead.
Still you should take note
That if you're ever offered an enchanted,
chartreuse, blue coat,
don't flaunt it around and think that you're better.
Older is wiser, hard workers are stronger.
But riches do not make measures of souls.

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