What I Did For Summer Vacation

by Typewrittensoul

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pinkie Pie, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1022

Poems about rocks. And farming those rocks. And a rainbow too, for good measure.

The first five chapters are a series of poems by Pinkamena Diane Pie for show and tell.

The last poem is when Pinkie comes across what she wrote as a filly.

Published 2013-03-03 21:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-03 21:00:02 UTC

The Family Business

Rocks.
Rocks.
The rocks are all I have.
To play with.
To work with.
Says so my mom and dad.

Stones.
Stones.
Leave no stones unturned.
I nudge them.
I pile them.
No better living earned.

Crack.
Crack.
Goes pa with the pick axe.
To break the rocks
and stones too big
for ma
and me,
his daughters three,
that makes his girls
a total four,
with strength we lack
but still we crack
and never slack
off will we stack
the stones, rocks, boulders,
on our shoulders,
granite, wackestone,
together, alone;
shale, marl, flint,
and those that glint,
and those still dull,
'cause on my farm
I've seen them all,
the blues, greens, reds,
though mostly greys,
we farm them all
farm everyday
just rocks and stones
we'd crack and knock
as pa would say,
it's "in our bones."

Rocks.
Stones.
Crack.

Crack.

Untitled

Grey, barren, flat land,
That is what a rock farm is.
No smiles or laughter.

Moving rocks northward,
By nudging them with my nose,
Dad gets paid for this?

My sisters and I
Would play "I spy" together.
It's always a rock.

Mom used to smile lots,
When Granny Pie would visit.
Now we visit her.

I'm no longer scared
By things that bump in the night;
I throw pretty hard.

Since she broke her hip,
Granny Pie can't visit us.
Her baking's awesome!

Dad told a joke once.
"Why'd the rock cross the road? It's
not sedentary."

Pink

Pink

So bright yet so plain, my mane.
Not poofy or goofy but flat. And straight.
Hanging down my scalp and along my neck.
No different than the curtains at home,
Used to block out the cloud-covered sky.
Too short for a bun like mom.
Maybe one day, since I'll remain on this farm.

My New Friend Named Roy.

Roy showed me how to smile, last week. Even though he did it upside down.
Of course I don't mind,
You see, because he
Gave me the greatest gift of all!
Better than the saddle bag my mom and dad got me to help move the rocks from the North Field to the South Field!
In fact, it's thanks to Roy that I got my
Very own cutie mark! Whoops, spoilers!

Happy Birthday

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took one knock.
It took one knock to break this rock,
because it's actually just a pebble.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took two knocks,
It took two knocks to break this rock,
because it bounced a bit after my first knock.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took three knocks,
It took three knocks to break this rock,
because it's an averaged sized rock...
...and that's how many times it took to break it.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took four knocks,
It took four knocks to break this r-
Oh, neat! A geode!

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took five knocks,
It took five knocks to break this rock,
because this rock is actually lodestone.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took six knocks,
It took six knocks to break this rock,
and then I started on the next one.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took seven knocks,
It took seven knocks to break this rock,
though my sisters were helping, so technically it took more than that.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took eight knocks,
It took eight knocks to break this rock,
which is two more than what my Aunt Pumice took from Uncle Granite before she called the guards on him.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took nine knocks,
It took nine knocks to break this rock,
but it turns out this rock's a boulder.

Knock, knock,
I broke a rock,
I broke a rock and it took ten knocks,
It took ten knocks to break this rock,
and it broke into three slightly smaller rocks...

A Look Back

I can't believe they kept these, my poems.
I so owe them.
A lot, in fact, though it wasn't fun,
y'know, Farming rocks.
With that, I'm done!

But still, to sell the farm?
What an epic yarn, I thought,
when I first got the mail.
That my foalhood home was up for sale,
up for grabs. Really, thinking back, it wasn't all bad.
I've got not reason to be sad.

From North to South, and back again,
the same thing over, and over,
I thought I'd go insane!
Heh. That'd be lame.
It's funny, really,
that I'd shed tears - it's no big dealie
since mom and dad are getting old
it's 'bout darn time the farm was sold.
I heard the buyer's a youngish-lad.
I've got no reason to be sad.

My sisters and me would always visit,
once a year - though sometimes more than that.
To see mom in her scarf and dad in his hat
smile and beam when we'd show up.
Dad strained his shoulder, trying to pivot.
Even while wheelchair bound, his smile as sweet as syrup,
He asked if his daughters could help their dad.
I spoke first, "I'll do it!"
Since I can't bear to see him sad.

So there I was with nose to ground,
my rock piling skills were quickly found,
My dad was loud, "I'm so proud!"
So happy, so glad.
I've got no reason to be sad.

An hours' work was all it took
dust in our manes, us sisters shook,
then found our dad back in his bed,
with mom at his side, a tear was shed,
as he told his jokes, his puns, and stories,
about how us Pies first got our quarries.
Then he turned to us, our wonderful dad,
and said "It's thanks to you girls, that I've never been sad."