Away up north where it’s snowing they say
the elves are preparing for Christmas day.
Big elves little elves, busier than bees
All building toys, for under Christmas trees.
Some work with hammers others building bikes,
some riding through the room on brand new trikes.
Tiny elf voices ringing loud and clear,
everyone’s full of love and Christmas cheer.
Suddenly the chatter stops; all are still,
Santa walked in the room with book and quill.
Looking down at his book, Santa Clause stared,
then lifted his eyebrows as he declared,
Today I looked inside my books
and I found that we are ahead,
and thought because you worked so hard
we shall all go outside instead.
Misses Claus made lots of sweet treats
so let’s all eat and be hearty,
for today here at the North Pole
all elves shall have a snow party.
Quick as a wink the elves they disappeared,
Santa just smiled as he tugged at his beard.
Laughing he watched his little friends scatter
and soon the mountains echoed with laughter.
Snowballs were flying, snowmen taking form,
and hot chocolate kept little elves warm.
They were sledding, skiing, skating all day,
see, elves aren’t simply, all work and no play.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Contest: Children’s Christmas or Holiday Tale
It's Christmas Eve and through the house
there creeps a curious little mouse.
He climbs into the big arm chair
and finds the cookies waiting there .
He only takes the smallest bite.
Santa will find his treat tonight.
He gazes with wonder at the tree
and the bright wrapped gifts left there to be
a mystery tale to tell his spouse,
when he gets home, this curious mouse.
What an adventure it has been,
he has drunk of some spilled gin
that had been left upon the table.
His wife will think it is a fable
he has concocted to amuse her.
She is homebound, we must excuse her.
He once came home all out of breath
to say he had been scared to death
by a huge rat with fluffy tail.
She noticed he was very pale.
"While I was nibbling off some cheese
to bring to you, my love, to please,
he almost had me in his paws.
I'm sure he wasn't Santa Claus".
But this night is so very quiet.
He spies some fruitcake, has to try it.
It reminds him of that sip of gin
and wonders if his head will spin.
He hears a noise, runs for his life,
carrying fruitcake for his wife.
Christmas morning, spread before their eyes
for the baby mice, a grand surprise.
Their mama had fixed a Christmas feast
from food their dad had saved from beast.
A bit of butter, a glob of jam
and a fairly good-sized piece of ham.
Bread crumbs saved from other forays.
They had enough to eat for days.
Those little mice would never waste it.
If they didn't like it, they'd still taste it.
This food their mama set before them,
their dad risked his life to get it for them.
A Christmas Snow
(Secret Of The Snow)
Majestic ice, coated frozen trees, stand high
Branches flow like magic wands with powdered sighs
Angels turn pure white at Christmas time in little towns
So lovely coming down in feathery ice gowns
While giant houses glow by fire lights
Church spires reach out, praying on the night
For snow to come on stronger in their flight
Reds, yellows, blues, shimmering what they know
Each snow flake breaks out in celebration but slow
Accumulating warmth in a song and dance of winter
Exposing themselves on soft wings that splinter
Crystalline are their smiles on the wires and leaves
Gentle winds open up each gentle angels tumbling fleece
As six wings of ice declare the mystery of Christmas to begin
Angels can really dance on the head of a pin
Turn pure white; kiss the children on the nose
Angels are in fact the pure white snow
Each one unique and only children knows the secret
Created on 11/26/14 for “A Christmas Snow”- Poetry Contest
Snow sprinkles the ground
as delicate as sugar
crystallizing the exterior with a romantic heritage
only found in the heart of a child's imagination.
Like happiness it can melt in your hands,
and like happiness it can grow bitter like the ice you slip on
Forming miraculously to the curves of the earth
hugging till the land soaks in it's providence
white like the pages I battle with
Falling so passionately you'd think it was falling in love with the ground
And when it lands,
A blanket of perfection
glistening the season to a crisp
gently the sun arises
"there's no where to go today,
I'm just going to sit and enjoy the magic."
I figured they were kings.
After all what's a king to do
At a party where the guests had
Bad breath and rain splattered invitations.
By the way,
They looked like giants by the mantel.
Swirling a wine glass never
Held a tune quite like this.
I watched a drunk old man
Attempt to swivel his way
Into a date rape drug based teenager.
God bless the man who held his tongue.
God damn that woman by the host
With her cat hair covered Christmas massacre.
She was sweet enough in nature.
I moved back against a table edge
And became a wallflower
With too much lipstick for her skin tone.
After drenching myself with
A shaky glass of gin
I could spot one of the kings devouring a peach
And I could see why the ladies loved him,
And whatever else they did.
So I sat and watched.
I became a queen amidst
A cornucopia of pluots and plums.
I was a gift to the race of men
And a goddess compared to narcotics.
Pleasing was just another hobby of mine.
It goes great with a red dress and whiskey.
L Long ago travelled Kings
O Opened their minds to prophecies
V Visiting from afar they brought gifts of Gold, Fracincense and Myrrh
E Eastern Star guiding them lighting the way
C Company of Heavenly Host
A Allelujah! Angels appeared to Shepherds, telling Savior born
M Manger for bed wrapped in cloths in Town of David
E Evangelically proclaimed Christ the Lord
D December 25th designated day
O On which we recollect
W Why/way Christ entered our world
N Nativity only part of His story
A A new testament
T Tells of new covenant between God and His people
C Christ's coming to Earth
H Hailed as new born King, Holy
R Risen Lord, righteous redeemer,
I Intercedes for us as
S Spiritual Saviour to save sinners souls
T Time for Truth, Trust, Trinity
M Man's belief in God of Love,
A As Father Son and Holy Spirit
S Shall be saved
Christmas roses are red, and violets are so very blue…
Dear Santa. We love our dear Dragon and hope you do, too.
Nightly, visions of colors dance round and round his big bed.
As delusions of grandeur… continuously dance in his head.
For him sugar plums dance swirling, in dreams oh… so… sweet.
As you know… that tomorrow will bring a new, disastrous treat.
But this is the nighttime, as he lays snuggly, sleeping in his bed.
Honestly don’t worry! For the moment, there’s nothing to dread.
See how he looks, like a sweet heart, innocent, while cozy in bed.
But to be truthful, to help Santa, This year like promised and said…
We gave Dragon… Just a few of those wee, little knockout drops.
Now Santa‘s coming, lickety split! We’re ready, here, like on a military op.
No fricasseed Santa, will happen this night, during Santa’s great yearly flight.
Last year was an accident, we swear! It was little Dragons 1st Christmas night.
When he's excited, he tends to throw fire, through the air, like a son of a gun!
We told you to run, not goo and make cutesy faces, after all he was only one!
And truth to be told, those strange faces on anyone would scare him, we fear!
To make matters more clear, we copied our book, on Dragon etiquette, Dear!
We sent it to the North Pole, and a fire retardant suit, in red, made just, for you.
Don’t lift the face plate, on top of the suit, hair singes fast, to blackened soot!
Suddenly, Santa’s sleigh on the rooftop did land, and he was there within a blink.
Last on his list, it was close to the morn, he wanted to meet Dragon, he thinks.
Entering the room, over a penguin he fell, and landed face down on Dragon.
Dragon woke up and gave Santa a hug, as a new story for Christmas was born.
Now all is well, after Santa was gone. For he got to meet the first Dragon child…
In a thousand years or more, and thankfully Dragon behaved as he smiled…
Two icons in life finally did meet, then they went off to Church and back again.
Now, don’t be surprised, such things can happen, on a day where miracles reign.
All had a great Christmas with reindeer, Santa, Trolls, penguins and Dragon.
Can’t ask for more, at Christmas time, where Jesus in our minds, shines on
So have some good cheer and like Dragon and Santa, together, lets celebrate…
You should know, by now, it’s never too late to participate…The End!
It was about a weak
After that night walk
The unknown dangers,
Made known, turned me weak,
I was managing myself,
After my heart was pulled,
From where it sank,
I was yet in the oven,
Of my haven,
To dry up the coldness,
And the wetness,
Of that fearful night loneliness,
Today is Christmas,
The whole mass,
Every home, glorious,
Meat was plenteous,
Rice and beans.
Was every homes means,
Children bouncing in,
New goat skin jackets,
Mother’s dressed in costly
Beads and all the way,
For Christmas had taking over,
Taking over the African Shrine,
It supplied a joyous sunshine.
Our pockets were full of cowries,
Like a goldmine,
Happiness was mine,
For the usual war seemed
To be hidden, and our teethes where like,
Oh! Joyful, blissful, plentiful Christmas.
Providing joy each time it surface,
But joy has a slender waist that breaks so soon.
Christmas night came, so we visited
Our beds as night rang it’s bell,
(To be continued in the next, same Poem).
The turkey is cold. The dressing is gone.
All of your friends and family have gone home.
Every show on cable television is a holiday rerun.
The stores are overflowing with shopaholic maniacs.
Your neighbors are complaining about your outdoor Christmas lights.
The kids are fighting over who gets to eat the last slice of pie.
They call it Black Friday for a good reason, it is a hell of a day.
It is only a twenty four hour horror so put a smile on your face.
Remember that in less than a month it will be Christmas Day.
Celebrate Christmas Day
In stable - manger Christ lay
Brightest star shone way
tinsel glitter baubles bells
Notes of pine tree smells
Bend fold crease cut glue
made with love from me to you
clock ticks... finished... phew!
But night’s bell came with tears and without love,
As our bamboo door talked,
Before my voice could speak,
Legs ruined down my door,
Then eyes in different heights
In the starry night like
Torch lights… attacked
Me with their voices.
They came in mass,
Some brandishing cutlass,
Some matchets, guns and arrows.
Gang upon gangs,
Displaying their flags,
Blood stained, tattered, hair, shaggy.
They held human heads for their
Oracles of war.
They were muttering songs as if
Forced to sing,
They had leaves and grasses in the
Middle of their mouths, they were mostly teens,
They were the Hausa rebels…
“Wait! Wait!! Wait!!!
Where are the bells?
Is this day not Christmas?”
I was asking myself,
A short tick man came out of the mass,
Not looking like human,
He looked backed at the rest,
Feeling like the best.
He weakened my hear drums
By the manner of his question,
“Hausa or Birom?”.
To send my religion to the bottom?
Whom for this day, is Christmas?
And sweet Messiah’s Calvary at Golgotha?
I wasn’t prepared for that,
So the truth came out like a blast
“Yee! Yee!! Yee!!!
Enemy tribes” they shouted
Like savage talking drums.
(To be continued in the next, same Poem).
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
The sleigh bells jingle merrily across the horses backs,
The snowflakes fall around us, filling the horses tracks;
The silver silence broken by boisterous Christmas songs,
Midnight chimes on the clock over head but we’re still going strong;
The whiskey warms our insides as we pass the bottle around,
Aside from the caroling voices, the night doesn’t make a sound;
We’re snuggled under blankets, breath fogging in the air;
Riding along with family and friends, living without a care!
A self-written poem begun in Christmas Time,
While it tasting the soup and looking for rhyme.
In the kitchen, neighbor with the quiet tomato paste,
The sorcerer's apprentice, a poet pretty well placed
Near Soups (ciorbe) with characteristic sour taste
With luminous face and much grace added the rest:
As he was sipping and tasting from raw and cooked.
His group had a passionate look at what was booked
For the dinner: These might be meat and vegetable soups.
They had to choose till the coming of the helping troops
For the pig`s sacrifice rite, old mixture of joy and grief
Under the hot and long debrief of the pleasant smell-thief
Tripe soup (ciorba de burta) hard prepared from beef,
And calf foot soup (ciorba de vitel), with green-gold leaf
Pickled soup (supa de moare) with pork and big rice;
But use the dice to decide between spice and allspice.
From the slaughtered pig the village` families prepare:
Carnati - sausages kept in special aromatic smoke
Of wet fir and oak burned at small fire as enjoyed by folk;
Caltabos - sausages made with liver sprinkled with beers;
Toba and piftie - dishes using pig's feet, head and ears
Suspended in aspic like a frozen symphony in red
After cups of plum brandy and before going the bed
Tochitura - pan-fried pork to bid it a farewell, twice
Served with mamaliga - palesta , and red wine with ice,
Or boiled wine with pepper and cinnamon against frost;
So that the pork can swim and the verse were glossed;
Piftie - inferior parts of the bashful pig, mainly the tail,
Feet and ears, kind of meal like taken from a fairytale
In which all are cooked and served in a form of gelatin
In this naturalist field, all the poets smile like Mr.Bean;
Jumari - small pieces of pig meat are fried and tumbled
Through various spices if after all, you are a little troubled
And may falter some poetical from the famous songs
Like "So, good people drink…" couples of diphthongs
Since Saturday to Thursday and make colorful the gray.
This poem was written in the Night of Tuesday to Friday.
( And later we`d find that the housewife had covered with it the pickles cucumbers jar.)
There once was a flawed broad named Maude
who wished to spend Christmas abroad
she ate Christmas dinner
with penniless sinners
for that was all Maude could afford.
Well ole Maude brought them black tea from China
and chocolate cakes from a diner
they ate guinea pig
and many a fig
while Maude poured them wine from Carolina.
Yes you've guessed it, I see that you knew
in Peru they eat Guinea Pigs in stew
they wear colorful hats
and watch out for black bats
Maude's dinner will be in Cusco, Peru
In this cold wave I walked coldly in cold sweat.
Taking a brisk walk like we shared in the old times.
Where I was headed for, I couldn’t envisage.
But I was just walking hoping to catch a glimpse of something that could be a muse.
I came across a bridge; what seemed like a labyrinth for lost and found souls.
It was calm but very cold. It was still; the stillness seemed like a still alarm.
The sun was not out-of-town. It gleamed and its sheens were much appealing.
The tides were noticeable. They were out-of-the-way and seemed outpaced.
Though the tides were astronomical, the sea lochs on the far side of the waterway
were impressive in what seemed like an assemblage of oak fern, chinquapin oak and
deciduous trees and displayed a mirror image of the trees with a thin misty
atmospheric effect up-swinging as the warmth descend on the wintry water.
Though I walked in cold sweat, I wished for a cold pack
to sooth my icily feelings created by your absence.
Then my wishes began to pop up.
I wish you were there with me. I thought about what you could do with such sights.
I wish you were fleshly present in my heart.
I wish I could share with you this swift serenity encompassed in a deeply impressive
dignified quality with our hands clamped as we briskly walk on Christmas day.
I wish it happened on Christmas.
Deep Space Christmas
God is busy this time of year attending to the billions
People’s needs, guiding reindeer, assisting Santa, counting souls
Helping with the naughty/nice boys and girls
Even Craigslist needs some tweaking here and there
And other things too numerous to know or mention here
God is the great Creator out there at all times
At Christmas He moves faster than the speed of light
He has to keep up with popular demands
Stars and universes don’t create themselves you know
He rides great rivers of dark matter like a magic carpet
That move along ribbons of space and time
Cosmic phenomena built on great speeds increasing every second
Millions of parsecs wide and longer than known universes
They curve through cosmic landscapes and glide to the beyond
God looks out at the great black void
And with legions of pretty angels by His side
The wondrous design begins again
Everyone knows that thousands of angels can dance on the head of a pin
It is common knowledge that each celestial creature has that gift
They carry within their deep deep pockets, (just below the wings)
Thousands of other angels dancing on their own individual pins
But did you know these same tiny angels grow?
They expand larger than most universes
With multi-color baskets by their side
God directs them to toss assorted planets
From blue baskets into the great unknown
Over there to be precise, to the right and upward
And somewhat just beyond that spot
The yellow baskets have suns and quasars with special protective shields
To shield the angels from wing singes and radiation fields
They throw thousands at a time by pure design
And since suns are too hot to handle, they throw them fast and throw a lot
Black baskets hold black holes, dark matter and a scattering of exotic things
God pulls them out real slow due to weight considerations and mysteries
Orange baskets hold more void but more about that later
We don’t want to distract you from the Creator
Back at Earth He takes his favorite creation by the hands
Men and women die all the time
He looks at each and every one of them with His bright kind eyes
At that moment they are the only thing in His universe
Don’t cry. You are not applying for a job
He holds them as his own and welcomes them home
So grab a basket from an angel and let’s get back to work
Universes don’t build themselves you know
I was nine, I saw from my window
The snow was coming down
Little crystal snowflakes
Barely kissed the ground
Outside Mr Snowman was waiting
For all the girls and boys
To whisk them away on a merry ride
To the land of toys
I remember flying through the air
Looking down upon the town
For some reason I can’t recall
I was in my dressing gown
The land of toys was a magical place
Santa was there too
Picking out toys for all the children
There was I recall quite a queue
All the toys in Toyland
Where vibrant and alive
Santa was in a bit of a hurry
He had to be home by five
Santa gave me a toy soldier
That was alive while I was there
Though back home was just a plastic toy
Which I thought a little unfair
Home, the snow was still falling
From an overcast slate grey sky
I admit I had a lump in my throat
As I bid Mr Snowman goodbye
I have tried to re-create that moment
Many times, alas all in vain
It was a once in a lifetime experience
I never saw Mr Snowman again
But what magical memories
They really did happen to me
And yes, I am quite well aware
Something similar was shown on T.V.
The Scrooge Christmas Musical
Hiding in bed is poor Scrooge
His antigravity boots too huge
To hold him down from bad spirits
Only there to teach him new lyrics
Created on 12/04/14 for - Andrea Dietrich - A Christmas Character Clerihew – Poetry Contest
The Desert near Ajo, AZ
Funky town. Got to go. Drive up a road--couple a blocks from the Plaza. Road curves becomes dirt. Hard dirt—eroded dirt. Not a pleasant place for a car. Out in the desert as fast as walking through a door. Saguaros poked up everywhere. Three types of Chollas threaten. Jumping, Teddy Bear and the tame Cane. The Teddy Bear amused Zelda. She had batches of spines in her mouth and all four feet. I grabbed a rock and knocked them off. I pulled the barbs out accompanied by soft yips. She went bounding away to the next mess of spines. I woke just before dawn everything was rugged, but the sun was not blocked except by the horizon. Warthogs, those instruments of war—were still plying the sky, but they were high, high and could not be heard. Only the birds. Nothing else. Not a thing. My relations with the others are awkward at best. Harry was no problem, but I had a feeling, he was miffed. I know his wife was, as was mine. Something about talking with no concern for others. “You just go on and on and on. You don’t listen! You are a complete asshole,” Sue said.
I'm locking up my house, because it's that time for thieves.
I need to Santa proof my place, because It's Christmas Eve.
If he does get in, I'm going to run and hide.
I left out some milk and cookies with rat pellets inside.
While he's eating the cookies and he's starting to sweat.
The reindeer will be caught in security nets.
"I'm sorry boys and girls, but Santa has to retire!"
I'm going to tie him to the tree and set poor Santa on fire.
Then I'm going to take the toys and keep them all to myself.
Even though I've been bad, no coals will be on my shelf.
Merry Christmas to me! This year is going to be grand!
I'll get whatever I want, if Christmas goes as I planned!
Wearing Santa Claus' suite I'll get in houses without keys.
In twenty seven minutes I'll rob twenty seven trees!
So all you little brats, don't you cry and sob.
With the recession and depression, I just needed a job.
A lot of things are going to change, but you all shouldn't be sad.
Now that I'm the new Santa, It doesn't matter who's bad.
I'll use the elves as my slaves and the toys will still come.
Instead of a Nintendo, you'll get a gallon of rum.
Toy guns are for babies, how about the real thing?
A candy neckless won't impress, I'll make sure that it's bling.
You said you wanted a pony? How about a deer that can fly?
No more lousy presents, no more socks, or bad ties.
Wait... Wait a minute... Was that all just a dream?
Why do I only have coal under the tree and in my stocking?
Santa please come back! I promse I'll be better next year!
I promise I'll be good and I'll spred more Christmas cheer!
Did Santa Claus come back? Did he come like I thought he should?
No Santa didn't, but next year I'll be good!
I'll only do what is right, aleast to his satisfaction.
So he comes back to my house, and my plan goes back into action!
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
A puppy that wouldn’t stop peeing on my tree.
On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Two Turtle Doves who dropped a load, as I looked up in the tree.
On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Three little kittens that my puppy, chased up daily into the tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Four sets of ornaments to replace, those destroyed by kittens in the tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Five different promises that he would again, put up, The Silly Tree.
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Six strands of lights to replace those chewed on, by my little puppy.
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Seven hugs and kisses, so I’d PLEASE forget, about the Blooming Tree.
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Eight Trolls a milking, chasing cows thru all my hedgerow shrubbery.
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Nine Trolls a dancing, that all fell on, my once beautiful garden fencing.
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Ten Trolls a leaping, as Caroling candles, burned down into their hands.
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Eleven Trolls a smiling and ready to rebuild my burned down front porch.
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Twelve Trolls a hammering and a nice big bottle of Tylenol… just for me…
Plus the happy thought, I’d survived a Christmas gift, planned with love… just for me.
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and best wishes for twelve days of Christmas joy.
By CSEastman for: 12 Days of Christmas Contest
Clouds garland snow capped mountain peak
Icy snow butterflies melt kisses upon my nose
Puffs of warm, moist breath balloons billow out before me,
quickly chilling, disappearing before my eyes
Crunching snow compacts beneath booted feet
Prints set deep, little more than momentary reminder
of where you have stepped before
Crisp white blanket glints
almost winking it’s Christmas card welcome
as it’s vast white carpet spreads before you beckoning
All of nature along with everything manmade becomes anew
Nothing seems out of place
A bird lands on branch of tree causing cascade of padded canopy
New mound takes position with little noticed effect on perfect landscape
Children laugh and run as they hurl packed balls at one another
Dashing, darting, ducking and returning rogue ammunition
to offending hand and screams of pleasure
Slipping, falling they tumble over repeatedly
Waving arms and legs, when finally still to create snow angels
Then, standing up clothed as abominable snowman
Giving rise to fresh ideas as new creation begins with rolling snow
Bigger and bigger they chase and push, packing tight as they go
Another ball a little smaller to place on top of first for head
Then off they scatter in all directions looking to clothe their model
Returning with woollen hat scarf
carrot and stones to place as eyes nose and mouth with button features
Admiring they know their masterpiece shall be short-lived
For mother nature’s hand will chance to create another slushy muddy puddle
Capable of gross wickedness
A vile wretch
after it got dark
we made a start
put out the holiday cards
our bobys got hot
we needed it a lot
its was passion free
UNDER THE CHRISTMAS TREE
Two little candy canes were bought at a store.
Excitement abounded as they’d have a new home, to explore.
Snuggled in a sack with beautiful toys all around.
Theirs was be a happy life, you can be sure, they had found
They arrived at their new home, as in a blink.
And what did they see, oh my, everything.
All that they’d dreamt of, was before them, you know.
And foremost was the tree… that they would call home.
The tree was decorated with such aplomb and fanfare, well done.
The children laughed and giggled as they ran all around.
What a riotous but organized day of joy it had become.
With tinsel, and ornaments, and lights so profound.
The candy canes were finally put on that glorious tree,
As, yes, a few were eaten by you and by me.
The ceremony ended when an angel was placed by Papa on top.
And no one made a sound, then vibrantly applauded as he came down.
Finally they all had dinner in the room beyond, that night.
As all settled in to wait for that illustrious visit, so right.
Joy abounded all over this house as presents were, so nicely wrapped.
And cookies were made to hand all about.
The last of the candy canes would finally be eaten on Christmas Day…
As presents lay opened and children did play.
Now don’t be sad for those two magical candy canes…
They stole a ride with Santa to the North Pole on that special day.
Merry Christmas to all at Poetry Soup!
(A Christmas Story)
Little parasites wake up early
To tie me up in knots
They take my shoes that do not fit them
And my wallet too
Finished off my mini-bar and crashed the car
Emptied my bank account
Wished me Merry Christmas
I wish them my open fist when I get loose
They used my favorite twine to tie me up this time
Left the dishes in the sink to do them selves
The bums are having too much fun to do their chores
I cannot go to work with naked feet
How could they steal my shoes those little creeps
The one good bit of news is this
The credit cards have all expired
Being poor has some advantages
My parasites have names
Hooligans, wife and kids
My own personal crime syndicate
I call them friends and family
Our baby Troll Lilly started a discussion, last night, just to help… you know.
So Santa, I hope you don’t mind some advice from our dear family of Trolls.
Lilly had a question on a problem, about your ride, on your famous route.
She wanted to ask you, what happens when the reindeer get really pooped out?
Yes, she needs to know, what on earth you might do… so to her, you’d get thru?
I tried to assure her that you’d be all right, but she didn’t believe, that was true!
She began crying buckets of tears, so we told her just what we’d do to help you.
The Trolls also piped in, with great ideas to help, so she’d stop all the boo hoo’s.
They decided, their dragons would do, in case of a blizzard, and for extra warmth.
(But they’re too heavy to land on roofs; I cried for a week with mine, it’s the truth.)
Geese would be great in some areas, no doubt! But watch out where lakes are about.
Hunters may be present; Christmas goose is yummy when family gatherings sprout.
Most birds are strong and sturdy in flight, but watch out when full night comes.
They sleep in trees, so you’ll spend the rest of the night, hanging above the ground.
Bears are really sturdy, with great power in every move they ever decide to take.
But I doubt you could wake them in winter, without a truly massive earthquake.
Unicorns would be impressive, but my Trolls say that… they aren’t really real.
I say that they are, but you’d have to be on guard, people want their magic, to steal.
Planes would be impressive, but in a yard… they are really hard… to try to land.
Helicopters are so cool, but you’d be buried in the blowing snow, where you stand.
Dogs are good for mushing, but you might need a smaller sled to stand behind.
But, a few Trolls are perfect, with unswerving stamina, and strength well defined.
Another could help tote toys, sitting behind you and Lilly, who’d be great, by your side.
These ideas cheered her up a lot, she was even laughing, and no more did she cry.
But if you use the reindeer, remember we could be, if needed, quickly by your side.
Have a Merry Christmas, and Santa; please give Lilly a Christmas wish ride.
And you can’t go wrong with reindeer, Lilly, and a few extra Trolls supplied.
Yours truly, From The Eastman’s and their Trolls
An angel did befriend us, on earth, before one Christmas day.
Some say she was a comet, some say she was a star.
I say she was a gift from God, here to light our way.
She was a thing of beauty that shone across the land.
Leading to a humble manger, found in Bethlehem.
And what could be so important, for her to come our way?
A savior to our lands, and yes, our hearts and souls…
Triumphantly born on Christmas Day.
That day he was born the heavens truly did rejoice.
And she, a glorious light, continued to beacon forth God’s love.
Such an important part, that angel was given on that day.
She was a beacon to our hearts and the gifts of love…
Guiding the Wise Men and shepherds endlessly along their way.
Thru her we learned lessons, such as: patience, hope, and how to give…
And yes, she led us to the Wondrous Man, who taught us how to live…
Santa’s Trip Way Up There
Santa came to town to find some batteries for a comet mission
Philea probe ran out of energy when landing on a duck shaped thing
Its name is 67P/C-G and is very far away from Earth
It took Rosetta space craft ten years to voyage there
322 million miles from here for what it’s worth
Philea probe needs Santa and some luck this year
To restore and to explore the speeding rock up there
The mission calls for more than just a sled to save the mission
Santa can’t run on milk and cookies any more
A missile or rocket is needed to get him there by Christmas
Athletes get athletes foot you know
Santa, is now an astronaut, so
He must get missile toe at Christmas
Santa needs a power source for poor Philea soon
It fell into a deep sleep for lack of energy
Perhaps he should stop there first to give it batteries
Santa and the probe might discover microbial life together
Just one more comment
I hope he finds at least one snowflake on the comet
To remind him of our Christmas back on Earth
You know; his home planet
11/23/14 “What's up with Santa” – Poetry Contest