I do not know?
In this modern life of all work and no play
We forget where our wisdom is stored.
We just haven't time, for a nursery rhyme,
That the kids in past ages adored, adored.
That the kids in past ages adored
The characters felt they were fading away
So a meeting was held in Toad Hall
The spokesperson Rat, there promoted the Cat.
To the Captain, in charge of them all, them all.
To the captain in charge of them all.
Expeditions were planned, to go to the land
Where nursery rhymes go to retire
The home by the sea, where all pantos are free
And the stars go to slowly expire, expire.
And the stars go to slowly expire.
The Owl built a craft, you may think it quite daft,
Out of what he had left from his lunch.
There were carrots and peas, leftovers like these.
And crewed by a very odd bunch, odd bunch.
And crewed by a very odd bunch.
So the Owl and the pussycat sailed out to sea
In a beautiful green pea boat
Cat said to Owl, the weathers turned foul,
Do you think that these veggies will float, will float,
Do you think that these veggies will float.
Little miss Muffet, sat tight on her tuffet
Said We’ll ask the spider to row
With four legs a side and the pull of the tide
We’ll speed up our vessel so slow, so slow,
We’ll speed up our vessel so slow.
The prediction proved true, and the little boat flew
To the land ‘neath the silvery moon,
Where cutlery chanced, their luck as they danced.
And the dish had a crush on the spoon, the spoon.
And the dish had a crush on the spoon.
Where little jack Horner, recluse in his corner,
Stares hard at a pie in the sky.
And little dogs laugh, as a cow and its calf
Eat mushrooms and think they can fly, can fly.
Eat mushrooms and think they can fly.
With his crew now ashore, captain cat said “explore”
We will search till the haven is found.
I'm told it's been seen, near the magical bean.
Where the fairytale stories abound, abound.
Where the fairytale stories abound.
Then spoke, an old hag; just a man dressed in drag,
Said she knew how to find the great bean
With its stalk growing high, past the pie in the sky.
In the town where the Giants are green, are green.
In the town where the Giants are green.
They marched off inland, captain cat and his band.
They came across little Bo Peep
Laid down on the ground, with the lambs all around.
She had dozed off while counting her sheep, her sheep,
She had dozed off while counting her sheep.
They woke shepherdess, and she gave the address,
Of the home run by Jack and by Jill
And then to confound, She said turn around,
It's behind you, up there on the hill, the hill,
It's behind you up there on hill.
They all turned about, at a terrible shout,
From man who came tumbling down.
OThen a scream from his wife, can you please save his life,
I believe that he's broken his crown, his crown.
I believe that he's broken his crown.
The clever old Owl, bound his head with a towel
And then got him back to his abode.
It seemed like a cure, and so Jill said I'm sure.
A debt to this Owl here is owed, is owed.
A debt to this Owl here is owed.
The Owl used his mind, saying that's very kind.
I think as we’re all refugees
That what we need most, is a home on this coast.
And to stay here if this town agrees, agrees.
And to stay here if this town agrees.
The town had a vote, and it's worthy of note,
That the cross placed in every page.
Was, yes, they can stay, and be part of our play.
Because all of the world is a stage, a stage
Because all of the world is a stage.
Copyright © Tony Wager | Year Posted 2015
In midst of forest stands an ancient tree
decorated by nature with white cotton snow puffs,
icicles glisten and gleam sparkling in the sunlight.
Around its base are gathered all the forest's creatures
with pregnant pause they wait as the star shines out
a beacon to all calling out, hush now do you hear?
The sleigh bells ringing out as down swoops Santa
wait, he is not alone with him the blessed babe
in distance approach the three wise men bears gifts.
All the creatures now on bended knees him they salute
the ancient tree smiles knowingly and the heavens
celebrate with comet tails and shooting stars the precious babe.
contest Hush of Christmas Past
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014
Bursting from within the heart of a blizzard shock wave,
Shutters the flexing eye of this white hurricane storm,
Shattering the inner core into a blazing shards torrent,
A miracle of utter mystical enchantment occurs,
In this ancient incantations sacred spell.
It is a crystallized super nova’s raw force, exploding from
The inner guttural roar of nature giving birth, to
The snow bird of paradise.
In its translucent chamber egg of ice, resting in the
Diamond dust covered nest, lined with crystal frozen gems,
Shimmering beneath the chilling Artic sun, as the
Freezing embrace of mother earth, rocks her starling,
Kindred off spring, waiting, are anticipating its hatching.
Ever tenderly the life within stirs, as if a captured moment
Of purities grace, encapsulated in brilliance opulence,
The shells shard melts away, in a hushed display of beauties
Refinement and complete elegance.
Nature itself seems to hold its very breath, as the
Snow bird rises, for the first motions step, in a swaying
Waltz of harmony.
Behold the snow bird strides forth, fanning her plumage
Behind, a white laced peacock is exposed, unfolding its winged
Feathers delicately, one by one, until the colors
Reflect the light rays from the polar sun.
Gleaming in radiance, the fineries majestic appendages
Sparkle with razzle-dazzles adornments, yet the winds brush
At her downy softness, as if caressing the fleece of a new
Born lamb’s wool, ever so gently.
Plumages lace of snowflakes spread wide, in a splendors display
Of glitz and glamour, as the fluffy strains ripple in the night winds
Whispering, come along my beautiful creation, it is time to warm
My soil with springs everlasting promise, once more.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
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.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2013
When you have fallen fast asleep,
I'll crawl toward your hall and creep
out through your door...
Advancing quickly through the gloom,
I'll prance into your living room
and as you snore,
I'll pulverize your rug and purr,
while sizing up your Douglas Fir,
then... I... Will... LEAP!
And dangle ever frantically,
until each spangle from your tree
is in a HEAP!
I'll SLASH your floppy socks's toes
and GNASH your boxes tops's bows
in savage bites!
Then lift, at last, my pretty tail
and spritz a blast of 'Kitty Male"
...to wreck your lights!
Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015
In Heaven’s light, a babe at peace,
the King of kings wrapped warm in fleece.
We heard the angels’ trumpets sound.
His gift of light shone all around.
A worship song, I could not sing.
I had no gifts of gold to bring.
For I was just a gentle lamb,
led to the town of Bethlehem.
My shepherd traveled to that place
with tears of joy upon his face.
He bowed in prayer then danced and leaped
until he heard the Christ child weep.
He saw him shivering on the hay,
met Mary’s weary eyes and prayed.
Without a word, God stirred his heart.
He sheared my wool, and filled his cart.
Then, pushed it to the stable where,
he warmed the babe with loving care.
A smile parted Mary’s lips,
and Joseph’s hand, she gently gripped.
With glory, angels sang on high
as man and beast looked to the sky.
I had no gifts of gold to bring.
A song of praise, I could not sing,
I gave the Lord a gift of fleece.
Oh, holy babe, He sleeps in peace.
For Isaiah's Christmas with Christ Contest, 11/25/15
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Winter is a coming in upon this Christmastide
And snowflakes fall on field and fell across the countryside
To cover brown and green, they spread their one blanket of white
And here and there, a white bump hints at something out of sight
Does he know it's Christmas, that sheepie in the snow?
Most likely not; he knows it's cold with no warm place to go.
He's somewhere there below the white, with snow piled up around
Wondering where went the light, what happened to the sound?
There is no time to hesitate, leave rescue undelayed
Put on your boots and hasten out, armed with your trusty spade
To dig around that snowclad hump that hides the sheepie form
And take that festive sheep inside, somewhere that he'll be warm
So do not get a Christmas tree, they don't belong inside
Get, instead, a Christmas sheep to celebrate Yuletide
Decorate him if you wish; things suitable to chew
For a Merry Christmas spent in company of ewe
Copyright © Lee Leon | Year Posted 2014
Christmas paper shreds;
Cats chasing curly ribbons;
Oh no, call the vet!
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014
PAWS FOR CHRISTMAS
The tree stood straight,
It looked so nice.
Even had shiny things,
To look like ice.
A star on the top,
Was special to see.
Plus the lights and toys,
Filled our hearts with glee.
A package or two,
Were placed on the floor.
For family and guests,
To see and adore.
Then the puppy came close,
What did he see?
What is that shiny thing on his nose,
From the Christmas tree.
How did the ornament so bright,
Get down on the floor?
I bet this puppy could tell you,
As he ran for the door.
What are these teeth marks,
On the package we see?
A gift from our puppy,
Under the tree.
But we take it in stride,
And hug the old mutt.
For it's his Christmas too,
but "stay out of the nuts".
RAYMOND V. MORGAN
Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2014
Was there something of an issue there,
With a wondering sheep being lost,
Just at that time when the shepherds,
Were on the way to rejoice and toast?
I rather think that, most definitely,
The shepherds would have respected,
The four, five or even six days in which,
The family would have there resided.
If they had just set off for the inn,
And their brother had whistled them back,
To search for a lost, lonely sheep,
To quantify their merchandise, their sack.
They would’ve come back and returned,
No problem, without any hesitation,
Because you don’t loose a sheep very often,
And they had a few more days for visitation.
There was a long while yet, plenty of time,
To visit and celebrate the baby at the inn,
‘Cos they adhered to the early gossip,
Listened to the early dew, the first of the din.
People were talking about the family,
About the child of an unmarried twosome,
But the shepherds understood relationships,
Behaviour, intentions and the banging drum.
They were very much working class people,
Townsmen of commerce and of pubs,
Who understood free love when it occurred,
And they didn’t wish on the family subs.
So they took a lamb along with them,
To reassure that they knew their job, the animals,
Kept them fit and healthy, very well,
Showed that there were no external variables.
They gave them a lamb and were thanked,
‘Cos I presume it was killed by them and dead,
Ready to cut up, debone, cook and eat,
To let the family feel fully satisfied instead.
The innkeeper wasn’t too friendly or polite,
Didn’t let the parents buy any meals or have drink,
Hid them out of the way in the animals’ stable,
Such that they had to drink the cow’s milk.
And the butcher wasn’t open to them,
Would not exchange their money,
‘Cos the whole town considered them,
Nothing intelligent or funny.
But the shepherds sufficed and prevailed,
To change that deformation and liberate,
The town’s people from derision and tradition,
And let the family function, integrate.
Their hand in family’s life, the Christmas story,
Was vital beyond definition and description,
’Cos they determined the living conditions,
Of the baby of remedial initiation.
They also influenced life back home,
In Nazareth where they had abode and lived,
Where the people followed the shepherds,
Where the rebellion was not relived.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
Early one Christmas morn
my eyes flew open wide,
found no gifts under the tree
so I ran to look outside.
Everywhere, on the ground
lay mounds of fluffy snow
and parked right in front,
topped with a big red bow,
was my trusty old wagon
full of presents galore.
Four eyes peeked out and
made my emotions soar.
Two furry little playmates
to fill the hours of my days
full of love and amusement
with their wild, playful ways.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
They always made me happy,
The camels of the wise men,
The slowness of their footsteps,
Their self-sufficient ben.
Camels meant there was time,
For the three wise men to think,
To ponder upon their task,
To review their role as a link.
They were required to assess,
The child to be called god’s son,
To see if he could be a doctor,
To the poor, and to be the action.
Mary and Joseph were important,
To their question of universal worth,
So they prepared themselves well,
With questions surrounding his birth.
They understood that environment,
Is a factor in child development,
So endeavoured to contextualise,
The place of the baby’s commencement.
They predicted they’d be rejected,
By townsmen all along the way,
Spat at, maybe jousted with,
By loitering agitators arbitrarily.
Especially at the door of the inn,
There’d be jesters and jostlers alike,
People shouting “Don’t go there!
Avoid them, and get on another bike!”
And equally importantly, with respect,
They thought of their theology,
That their own actions may be vital,
To improving others’ sociology.
They considered their belief,
In an immanently coming messiah,
And renewed their vow to choose,
A protege who would take us higher.
So by the time they reached the inn,
They were very much prepared,
They could talk to each other freely,
About the saviour that’d been blared.
And the camels facilitated all this,
Preparation and consideration,
And gave the magi their pondering,
Upon seeing the configuration.
They enabled this baby to thrive,
Gave his family his manifestation,
And felt spent entirely at their visit,
Worn out by careful deliberation.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
The Three Little Pigs
The three little pigs
Had lost their wigs
So now all the animals saw
Was three little bald wiggly pigs
They had pen and paper
Pigs writing poetry
They said oinking and inking was in their nature
We have to change the laws of the legislature
Pigs and poetry was made a crime
The horses sneered, well it was about time
They wrote dirty prose and broken verse
Why even Orwell felt this was totally perverse
The ducks just clucked
As ducks normally doo
They chuckled at pig poets going to the loo
They would soon fly away, or else they would be forced to sue
The three little pigs
For their poetry stew
Nuwas rode in on his donkey grey
Looked at the pigs and said oh no don’t you stay
When Abu yelled to the sheep over there
He said bring me a sheepskin and a little of him
Wine flowed as he spun his tales from jail
Of the young couple Mary and Joseph, he laughed and he wailed
Why he said of the three little pigs
Thought themselves Royals cause they wrote with pig-pens
At the wave of his glass, is said be off to your dens
I of antiquity, shall cheer and dance with my fellow turkmen
Seeking justice the pigs went to the owl
However the goats looked up and cried that’s a fowl
Now the farmer was away paying his taxes in town
When he came back to the farm
He found three little pigs had drowned
Notes: This was inspired by a combination of ideas concepts, the first being George Orwell’s Animal Farm, then the controversial proclivities of Abu Nuwas, and the common thread, other than the bizarre, is the freedom to question all things, the failure to do so, only slows down the advancement of science and new ideas.
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Page 3 of An Ode to:
The Last Christmas Goose
This tells a dark side
Of the holiday season.
We don’t often ponder
For very good reason.
Thanksgiving is coming,
I’ll make it past that,
But I’m on extra feed,
It’s making me fat.
I’ll get very worried,
As Santa draws near,
That’s the time of year,
So many geese fear.
So what’s the big deal,
I say with a shout,
I’ve looked all around,
And see, no geese about.
That can mean just one thing,
My days are now short.
Unless I make to the farmer
Some clever retort.
What do you say to a fella,
That follows old habits,
No ham or roast beef,
Or gray furry rabbits.
Adorn the man’s table,
At this time of year.
Nothings better than goose,
With their Christmas cheer.
So let’s say: Good-bye.
It’s been good ta know ya.
If I had more time,
I’d love to have shown ya.
All over the farm,
The in’s and the outs.
But now little piggy,
I’ve just time to pout.
Say farewell to the others,
As you learn their names.
If they seem out of sorts,
Remember……. farmers game.
Written by oldbuck, June 2, 2008,
after his daughter kidded him
about being another Dr. Seuss
and should write a goose rhyme.
Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015
I knew what I should’ve done,
What most men would do,
Ride the donkey and insist,
That Mary walk, lower than me.
But I knew right from wrong,
And as she was pregnant,
I considered her right for,
The riders position grand.
As I was walking with her,
I had time to contemplate,
Think about things, the point,
To strengthen my character.
Other citizens who bypassed,
Sneered at us, avoided glancing,
As my woman was above me,
But I just ignored them straight.
People came into my mind,
And I thought of morality;
It’s focus, bent and alley,
And solidified my thinking.
People matter above all,
When the chips are down,
And even when they’re not,
You do what would help them.
Morality’s focus is people,
Not god, temple or government,
To relate, elevate and direct,
Continually interested, insightful.
The physical is the base land,
Everything is derived from it;
You can’t get above it or below,
Around or separate the elements.
So Mary appreciated the ride,
Talked to me on the journey,
Exchanging philosophies, ways,
Becoming comfortable and easy.
By the time we arrived there,
Bethlehem was looking at us,
Asking when we wed and lain,
Expecting us to not repudiate.
But instead we told the truth,
Admitted to being free lovers,
And so they rejected us as sane,
Actively staring, spitting, jeering.
But my new mind from the road,
Enabled me to think quickly,
About our situation, predicament,
And turn the boat around hard.
A boy emerged, stealthy and hearty,
And we both took one look at him,
And knew he would be great,
If only people accepted our sin.
Grateful somehow for the census,
I decided to aim at calling my boy,
Jesus Christ, if the magi agreed,
And validated his talent for others.
They commended him reassuringly,
Said that he was the Christ for sure,
So I ran to the population census,
And changed our name to Christ.
I never regretted it or looked back,
Happy in my reasoning and in giving,
My son and all people a better life,
One of equality in healthcare access.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
In a small Iowa town, picturesque,
as some would put, is a farm
so let me continue on a bit,
and I'll spin a Holiday yarn
Down a long country lane, not far from town,
there was a farm, not big, fifty acres and a half
on the farm, lived a large animal family,
the youngest, was Callie the Calf
It was a week before Christmas,
Horatio the Horse came in from the yard
he unhitched from the sleigh, came into the barn,
and handed Callie the Calf a Christmas card
The card, from Buddy the Dog and Baily the Cat,
friends of hers from the city
inside was an invitation, to a party
a New Year's party, better dress pretty
Christmas came and Christmas went,
the snow did lightly fall
Callie was getting ready for,
the New Years gala ball
She spoke with her friends, through the animal vine,
to find out about the fare
if there was anything, she had to bring,
and just who all might be there
Baily said," don't bring anything,
bring a date, or just yourself
Callie was so excited, when she heard,
Jackson might be coming, dressed as an Elf
Here it is, it's New Years Eve.
it is finally party day
Horatio Horse, was waiting outside,
to take her in the sleigh
All grown up for the party,
Horatio, gave Callie a Knightly bow
and said," you're no longer a baby,
You've grown into a Cow"
You Go Girl !
Copyright © Richard Pickett | Year Posted 2009
Cats and Christmas Trees Contest
Sponsor: Mary Oliver Rotman
I remember back in 1986,
I was only six years old.
I've heard so many versions,
But the truth must be told.
My lil' kitty Daisy,
Was literally crazy,
Sometimes a lil' lazy,
Never ceases to amaze me.
We had a real Christmas tree,
Not an artificial green pine,
The needles so pricky,
Could send chills up her spine.
She sat and starred,
At this one small ornament,
I made it for my grammy,
Almost caused an argument.
I continued watching her,
Began at the skirt of the tree,
Fighting for a spot,
Next to our puppy Mugsy
Hot on her heals,
She takes off quickly,
Bouncing off Papa's lamp,
Cat the brat looks at me.
Daisy sure was curious,
With a side of smitten,
I've never seen so much,
Confidence in a tiny kitten.
There she finally went,
Up and up that woody plant,
Roughly clambers it,
Her paws start to expand.
Knocking pine needles off,
Chewing on the tinsel,
Mommy tried everything,
Wouldn't come when she whistled.
Cats seem to be hard-wired,
Ancestors ruining tree's,
Complete feline fascination,
Out on a tangent spree.
I need to go get rosemary,
A safe cat repellent,
If I hurry very fast,
It may be a good deterrent.
As she decides to decline,
The look of fear on her face,
Too scared to climb down,
Thinking it's not very safe.
But who was there to help?
I was only six years old,
I'd do absolutely anything,
And that's how the story is told.
After everything is over,
I read a wise phrase quack,
"You can take the cat out of the jungle,
But you can't take the jungle out of the cat."
Written: November 17, 2015
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015
An Ode to:
The Last Christmas Goose.
At our last meeting
I was lamenting the loss
Of all my old friends
Like with a coin toss.
There must have been a dozen,
Good healthy, fat birds,
We all were good friends,
Seldom shared a harsh word.
But that too would change,
As our numbers grew thin.
You had to be quick,
If you wanted to win.
Win what? you would ask,
That’s the troublesome part,
It brings up the farmer,
And the knife to our heart.
You see the whole value,
Of geese on a farm,
Is not too look pretty,
Or to poop in the barn.
No, we’re wanted game,
When winter comes round.
Out comes the small hatchet,
Leaves a head on the ground.
One by one they were taken,
To a place we don’t talk.
To a stump in the back,
Where the last, go to squawk.
With that gloomy thought
I’ll close out on part 2
On my return I’ll commence
No write lines, a few.
(to be continued)
Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015
That Little Ole Bear
That little ole teddy bear
Sitting in the big old rocking chair,
His big eyes so happy and bright,
His little face, such a delight,
That little ole teddy bear,
His soft paws folded in prayer,
He makes a wish for Santa to bring
Him a toy with which to play,
What he wants on Christmas Day,
That little ole teddy bear,
Give him a hug and a big kiss,
Christmas magic is such bliss,
The little bear he will pray,
And be so dear forever and a day.
Celine Rose Mariotti
Copyright © Celine Rose Mariotti | Year Posted 2015
All the puppies sit in a row,
waiting for Santa Paws to show.
They knew he had a ways to go
cause mommy had told 'em so.
Is that Santa Paws I see?
No, that just cannot be.
I've been good, really
good, especially me.
What is that loud noise I hear?
Shhh! Quiet! Santa Paws is here.
They all sit waiting for him to appear,
hoping extra treats he brings this year.
Great, you're all hearing things!
He will not bring us anything
if he knows we're hear waiting.
He expects us to be sleeping.
They finally settle down for the night
and now all tucked in bed real tight.
One had ran away and hid out of sight
wasn't going to miss Santa Paws tonight.
Humble stayed wide awake just so he could see
if Santa Paws come down through the chimney.
Wouldn't you know, Santa Paws he never got to meet,
for he was so tired and had quickly fallen asleep.
Copyright © Country Girl48 | Year Posted 2015
Turkey with trims
Sunbathing in hot oven, ready for gazzumping!
Copyright © Sarah Jane Smith | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Tinsel on the floor.
Just got home from the store.
Ornaments thrown about.
The cat... That I can't live without.
He lay asleep under the tree.
The only problem
The tree is on the floor
In front of me.
Colorful presents lay torn all around
Not an untouched thing to be found.
My blob of fur purring in front of me.
T'was the end of my Christmas tree.
Copyright © Chloe Payseur | Year Posted 2015
When I was young
I cried for no one I drowned my sorrow
In pride of being dry- eyed.
And inside of me a dam of tears not shed
I had a dog she lived to fourteen I borrowed
A spade and dug her deep into the soil.
The dam busted.
For days I cried for my parents, siblings,
The dog and all those
I loved so deeply but never said I did.
Old now I cry easily when seeing children and animals
And it pines me to know
This is the way of the world and no God
Around the corner to save us.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2014
Christmas and cats,
At least there is no rats.
But there is bad,
When your cat is so sad.
It tried to climb the tree,
Fell and broke his knee.
All he wanted was the star,
But the very top was just to far.
He came to my friend,
We thought this was the end.
Till the tree fell over,
Good thing we were sober.
We saved the tree and the cat,
And still had on our Santa Class hat.
Copyright © Jacob Fogel | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
>We need a space filler Dragon, any ideas?
If I were a Pokemon
If I were a Pokemon.
I would not be very happy.
With all you silly blighters.
Trying to entrap me.
If I were a real pokemon.
Trap me you would not.
As I’d do the same to you.
In real life, trap me, you would not.
Nice one Dragon, very space filling indeed. lol
A short Christmas Story.
The fog was thick one Christmas day. You could not see a hand held in front of your face. Children were crying in case Santa would not be able to find their homes let alone the chimneys if the house had them. Meanwhile in Toyland all the Elves were roped together. One end of the rope was tethered to the toy factory and the other to the dormitory where they slept and had their supper before going to bed. Suddenly a bright red light penetrated the thick fog, Rudolf had appeared and all the elves knew Santa would be able to find the homes of all the little boys and girls who had been good little boys and girls and deliver their presents safely. And you know that’s just what they did and everyone had a very merry Christmas. The end.
Another Christmas tale.
The turkey was worried at Christmas
As were the ducks upon the pond.
The chickens were keeping quiet.
And the rabbits shivered, not from the cold.
Why? Well it was Christmas.
When the farmer's family needed to all be fed.
And all of the farm animals, wondered who would lose their head.
Then when Christmas day did break.
All the farm animals were indeed glad.
Why? the question is a fair one.
All the farmer's family were vegetarian.
And all the animals on the farm, were indeed blinking glad.
As that was one of the best Christmas times, all of them had ever had.
Merry Christmas again everyone lol Merry Christmas. <
Copyright © STANLEY Harris | Year Posted 2016
Why can't I play with shiny balls
And climb that Christmas Tree
Why bring a tree into the house
Then say it's not for me
Why can't I help with wrapping paper
I love to play with twine
Oh please, I only want to help
While you sit and sip your wine
I love to smell your kitchen odours
Turkey, pork and ham by the ton
That cooking drives me up the wall
But then I act the sneaky one
That's when you kick me out the door
You really spoil my fun, and that's for sure
Copyright © Vera Duggan | Year Posted 2016