Christmas. Poems

Not A Baby Anymore

Well away in a manger in Bethlehem
A baby was born, son of God and son of man
A sweet sweet baby boy
And he came to bring us joy…. Oh joy to the world….

But he's no baby, not anymore!
He's the warrior king, do anything, God with us forevermore!
No he's not a baby anymore…
You've never known one like

Winter Wonderland

snow fallling  hot tea a warm fire
a christmas song with words that inspire

A Christmas Song

The blessed time of the year has come
The prince of peace on Earth is born
Let us hail the king of kings
Let us sing and blow our horn

          ‘Glory to God and peace on Earth’
          The Shepherds once

Celebrating Christmas Without Going Broke

By Christmas Day each father
and mother, also known as Santa and Mrs. Claus,
should have fulfilled “Dear Santa” letters
and other wish lists. They overspend, but for a great cause!

Expensive foods, grandiose home improvements,
and decorations are added. Guests will be so impressed.
Bank balances shrink; credit cards get maxed out,
but—By George!—mom, dad, and kids will be well dressed.

Money’s

Son, Stay Home for Christmas

Son, please stay home for Christmas day,
You are often out in trouble and out at play;
Let's celebrate with our kith and kin
Sharing some cookies and hot tea
Sitting by the fire or near the tree;
Stay home for Christmas, son
Set aside your plans of running away
Stick around with us, stick with me.

A Christmas Carol 24-12-2023

It was in a land many many years ago,
underneath the festive lights and fleeting snow
that a yuletide tale of love and hope
was sang like a ballad and spread like smoke.

Her eyes, a midnight blue and sprinkled with gold
and his, silvery, that flashed like tinsel.
In mutual company they found a home,
a melody sweet where their hearts

Raindrops on Roses

in the square, light encircled
choristers of yule
who incanted charmingly
as the dew sank cool
on their rouge berets,
cardinal cloaks with green socks—
a cordant bouquet

No Toilets In The Sky - 2025 - slightly gross

Santa’s doing Tinkles as he travels on his way
Sprinkling golden showers ’cross the moonlit sky today
He has no private place to pee which fills him with dismay
For there’s no public toilets... in the Milky Way

Santa’s got his legs crossed cos he’s been out on the beer
His guts are throwing tantrums and he wishes home was

White Wilderness

I recall the yelling but silent voice of winter
that broken December when the lights from
lanterns shot up from their wicks with the
fading strength of departing glows abroad.

Twilights hastened through the spine of
receding days, halting the approach of a
wayward Christmas.
The wilderness around us yielded froths from a
puking snowstorm,
fastening laces of Hell with strings of abundant
sleet.

The Loneliest Elf

He was Santa's unknown Elf
That they hid in a thicket
Cuz he worked all by himself 
They called him Chimney Cricket 

On the night of Christmas Eve 
He's the first one down the chute
Using nothing but his sleeve
So not to soil Santa's suit

When finishing his cookie
Santa's up the chute again 
Every day since a rookie
He was

Christmas In July

I'm sorry I didn't bring 
roses to your funeral. 

I brought a Christmas 
wreath instead. 

I didn't want to symbolize 
your withering, 

I wanted to represent your 
eternity, 

and the joy you brought 
others instead.

The Postman

He schleps constantly at noon
Through declivities and straight roads,
Bearing messages sealed by the hands
That laid them bare in the first place.
Sweat caresses his face, forming one mass of
Earnestness in every breath of delivery.
“Hello,” he says, “your mail. Your package.”
My palm breathes harder, having neared his.
I sign the delivery paper and reach out for the
Package.
He is

Finger Print

He was deeply worried,
A problem lay within,
Buried in the depths of his heart,
Countless slaves in his possession.  
He wanted to control
All of them, he needed
A unique identity for each.
Suddenly, he struck upon
The idea of a fingerprint.

White Wilderness

I recall the yelling but silent voice of winter
that broken December when the lights from
lanterns shot up from their wicks with the
fading strength of departing glows abroad.

Twilights hastened through the spine of
receding days, halting the approach of a
wayward Christmas.
The wilderness around us yielded froths from a
puking snowstorm,
fastening laces of Hell with strings of abundant
sleet.

Christmas Eve Performance

Three armed teens 
performed a mugging on Christmas eve.
Their target 2A'D them
curing them of their social disease.

By next morning they set up a go fund me 
for the dead and wounded thieves.
Their target was charged in the second degree.

When I was a teen, 
we banged on doors and toilet papered trees...
and felt somewhat guilty.

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