It’s Christmas Eve; there’s someone at my door!
But with the horrid sound outside my window,
I wonder who is knocking and what for!
Midst violent wind I see a surreal snow!
Within it’s haze, there is a grotesque sight -
gigantic and so out of place, I quiver!
A snowman leers at me, and frigid fright
goes through my bloodstream like an icy river.
Again, the knock! Whoever could it be?
This morning I wished Christmas would be gone!
A premonition now is telling me
that nothing good is out there on my lawn.
My friend had warned me that I really ought
not curse this season. Oh, what have I done?
More pounding at the door, but I cannot
go near that door; there’s nowhere I can run.
I look out at the snowman. He is more
enormous than a tree, and now I hear
a sound like laughing elves outside the door.
I stand as thought I’m paralyzed by fear.
That movie! There’s a movie I heard of.
A boy hates Christmas, wishing it away.
A storm brews suddenly in skies above,
heralding a deadly Christmas day.
A Shadow Santa comes. This wicked soul
is known as Krampus, and he brings with him
an evil that can swallow people whole.
If I have summoned him, my fate is grim.
The storm keeps wailing; now there’s a new sound
of scratching on my roof, but there is no
more knocking. Oh, who’s walking all around
my roof? I run out to the blinding snow!
At first I can see nothing till my eyes
are drawn to where a great big bag was put
beside my door. What’s this? More Santa lies?
Though filled with dread, I push it with my foot.
There jumps out from the bag the strangest thing -
A tiny man; he’s made of gingerbread!
He laughs maliciously, and starts to sing,
“Before the night is over, you’ll be dead.”
Out on my lawn, I see beneath the snow
there’s something creeping fast and right toward me!
What creature slithers underneath the snow?
I can’t escape, so back inside I go!
I shut the door and bolt it, then collapse
Upon my sofa near the fireplace, when
I hear an eerie sound above. It taps,
taps, taps. It’s something on the roof again!
Past Christmases with family go through
my frantic mind; I cower there and wait.
It’s Krampus, and he’s up there in the flue,
and soon to be delivering my fate!
Written Dec. 24, 2015/ Inspired by the contest of TAMMY REAMS
and the current Christmas horror movie Krampus.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
Boy, all I can say is one word, tradition.
It’s a mind set ingrained in our thoughts, and in our nation.
Although Christmas and Easter aren’t mentioned in the Holy Bible.
God has His traditions also, they are His Holy Festivals yet we continue to ignore them and trash our spiritual revival.
Today as so called holidays are in full swing, as Christians we pray.
That our nation realizes that our moral compass has lost God’s path in every way.
Man he’s always made excuses not wanting to listen to God he’s stubborn.
The devil is predominant in most people’s lives yet, he fails to listen to the Father, and His laws are easy but stern.
God says put no other God before me.
It’s not this writer speaking its God’s loving spirituality.
The Holy Bible is very clear about this.
Believing that the “Word” is the Son of God, Christ Jesus.
Christmas, Easter, are pagan holidays and it angers the Lord of Lords.
Remember all truths are in the Holy Bible see what Jesus says, He’s “The Word.”
Yes love and cheer is predominant this time of year.
Yet, “The Word” and what God says is very clear.
So on this coming Christmas pray that you see what the Father tells “Us”.
The evil one is still at large corrupting men, corrupting “The Word” our Savior Jesus.
God says in the Holy Bible let the Bible interpret God’s “Word” and to observe His Festivals.
Not those traditions set before man by the Evil Deceiver not just to love at yearly intervals.
The Holy Bible tells “Us” specifically that Jesus wasn’t born on this day.
Going back to the traditions of Babylon, see what the Bible says about this what we do and how we pray.
Just by not being in the Holy Bible these days should make “Us” truly see.
That God is God, His will be done, and by doing His laws and edicts wrong not observing His true Festivals corrupts our soul spiritually.
Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2012
As I walk through the door, none looks my way
I was never important, not that many would say
I stand in the corner but nobody sees me
I speak but none turn, it’s the way it’s supposed to be.
The world looks different from the one’s I had seen
The evil still abounds, repeated daily, a bad scene
I speak but none even turns my way, Am I here?
A child comes to me his hand raised, in his eyes there are tears.
All this pain this sorrow, what the purpose can be
Hate, evil doing, never ceases to amaze me
More children come they pull at my hand
I gaze at the innocence and I understand
They smile and they laugh but others see us not
And yet the celebrations go on, but they all have forgot
I am here for them, all, the unhappy, unloved and deceased
They called me St Nicholas, but only think of the feast.
They made me a saint in the centuries long gone
Over prisoner’s and sailor’s and children every one
No one remembers except for the gifts on one day
But I looked after all, they made me this way
Nobody gives me a thought through out the year
But I collect all the children and wipe away their tears
We are the happy ones they all know to come to me
Not only on one day but through out the year you see.
There are stories and legends formed over the years
But if the belief were strong there would be fewer tears
I am the patron saint of so many causes
I am the man behind all the Santa clauses.
But remember my mission was to offer help to the needy
Not to feed all the senses of those that are greedy.
Remember I stand here, but no one sees me
I’m not given a thought, until they bring in the tree.
But I tried in my life to help those needy and wanting
Those that beatified me gave me a task that is daunting.
From the sailors to the innocent and all the children in fear
If you believe in me or not my I wish you a happy new year.
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012
One December Night
(Continuation to the End)
All that year Santa had hoped and had tried to find a child's love that would strongly abide.
But month after month he was given the boot. It didn't matter whether he showed magic or
gave them some loot. Many children were selfish. Not one gave a hoot.
Until one cold blizzard night, in a stormy plight, the frog rang the doorbell and walked
right on in. In the warmth of the house, after ousting the mouse, four children accepted the
frog for his good. It was a happy sight for the frog there that night. Yes, they showed him
great kindness and genuine love, the
spirit of Christmas shown down from above. The purest of love without expectations turned
the frog into Santa who promptly gave each one hugs. “I'll be back with my sleigh to leave
gifts on Christmas night. Thank you dear children for your gifts of love tonight. Leave me
some cookies. I shall eat no more bugs! He laughed as he juggled three gifts in the air.
Then, soon disappeared out of sight by the moonlight.
The children, still laughing and squealing with joy, had broken a spell put on Santa
last spring. And the mean old witch that had made him a frog, sat sadly outside all alone on
the log. She had made him a frog with a croak, out of tune. She wanted his voice instead of
her own. Christmas carols she had heard bring so much joy. She could not carry a tune for
one single song. She had hoped she could sing if she stole Santa's voice. But the love from
the children left her no choice. The spell had been broken by love's sweetest choice.
But while they were happily playing about, they noticed the wand from the brown bag lay
out. So they went to the witch and gave her a voice. And taught her that goodness over bad
is a choice. So together they played with the now happy witch. Who gave up her evil and to
goodness did switch. The gift of pure love and light in the world is a gift to all who give
heaven a whirl. For even the wickedest of wicked have some goodness in them. So,
encourage the right and to evil say, “Take a flight!” (And let God be the judge…)
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
December 5, 2009
Poetrysoup member's Contest Anything Goes!
Sponsored by: Constance La France (I took you at your word... It's a LONG story.)
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
T'was the night before Christmas
And all through the house not a single noise could
For, you see, the only one up
Had practise of being quiet
even when she's screaming inside
With hand over mouth,
and tears streaming down her face
She silently sobbed the night away
The only festive colour running from her wrists
The only thing she wanted for Christmas
Was to be dead.
Copyright © Teenage Frustrations | Year Posted 2013
A man started a fire yesterday
He started it behind a church
All day me and my neighbor
Kept smelling strong smoke
I was think that the smell
It was no joke
By 4:00 I kept looking on to see
What the man was doing
After I saw the fire spark
When I looked outside my window
He looked at me smiled and waved
I called 911
I heard fire truck sirens
Fighters with flashlights came
Jesus used for them to put danger out
He saved the day
And for our protection last night
Lord I give you all the praise
After evil plotted that arson
You made the man go away
Copyright © Akilah Babb | Year Posted 2015
It was Christmas Eve, 1993
in a brown, two door, Cavalier.
I was 10, Steve was 12, Tim 7.
Daddy spent the entire present fund
On my aunt and my cousins.
Wanting to be the cool uncle,
he forgot he had kids of his own.
He had been drinking
when momma started swinging for the fences
in tiny little scratches
around his face, his body, or anywhere that would have them.
Like a cat in a bag, tied at the top, thrown in the rivers catches.
and like a shiny star, his wedding ring took off
like a horse at the races.
It was a fine line
an arrow flying
a back hand out of darkness
caught my momma just right
and froze me in time
before registering what just happened.
It was a black eye
a purple tide
the first time i saw my grandfather cry.
a tear in time
a ripped up life
a cold, hollowed prize.
my bitter, sour birthright
a red and swollen pain
a fools game they played
and we were the pieces
i leared that day
to supress the pain i felt in that moment.
is it harder now, to reflect upon all that happened
or accepting that nothings changed
and ive ended up just like them?
Copyright © Donny Rodgers | Year Posted 2016