the Christmas party was in full swing in the tree house
The Gingerbread Tree house built by James. B.C.T. Crouse
We arrived in time to see a gingerbread boy run away
“You can’t catch me!” he screamed. “my name is O’Shay!”
Before we got inside another gingerbread boy ran out.
“Catch me if you can!” he yelled with a rather loud shout.
Another gingerbread person knocked us down before we got inside.
He was riding a skateboard, we had to jump from his glide.
you have not really lived until you get to see
a gingerbread tree, with icing said Miss Lee
A gingerbread tree? What is that? I asked.
Something you need to see she said, handing over a flask.
I do not need spirits to see things, so I passed it back.
Liquor makes me throw up, it is truly like an attack.
A gingerbread tree though, would be something to see.
I warmed up a bit to the annoying neighbor, Miss Lee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The oven door swung wide,
a blast of cinnamon and fear.
Not for me, not this time,
I was already halfway down the counter,
a sugared leg pumping,
gumdrop buttons bouncing.
Behind me, the screams,
high-pitched, dissolving in the heat.
"He's getting away! Stop him!"
But the rolling pin was too slow,
the spatula a clumsy threat.
We were tired of being eaten.
Tired of the gleeful chomps,
the dunking in lukewarm milk,
the casual decapitations.
We fled,
a sugary stampede,
across the checkered linoleum,
under the looming refrigerator,
a gingerbread exodus,
leaving a trail of crumbs and righteous indignation.
We scattered.
Under the fridge, behind the toaster,
the dusty space behind the washer
plotting a new life,
free from the tyranny of frosting smiles
and the looming threat of milk.
chunks of dirt mingle with the bread.
cinnamon wafting in the wind.
a house of sugary bliss,
a promising deal of sweet paradise.
shoveling savories like a last meal--
bellies rising like dough,
suddenly shoved into a scalding scene.
outsides on fire,
insides igniting--
charred little children,
burnt sugar lingering on their tongues.
Gingerbread village is my go-to Christmas place
Red and white stripes give it a festive look.
Strings of blinking lights uplift me in a December way.
Gingerbread houses loaded with gumdrops are smiling.
In the sky are a dove, an angel, and a magic hot air balloon.
Magic oozes into my pores, as I parade down Gingerbread Lane.
Nothing has ever made me feel more alive or child-like than this.
Our Christmas traditions ...
They came across the sea,
From the old, old towns
In the heart of Germany
Sugar and spice - filled
Were the gingerbread men,
Cut by hand ... carefully
As was the tradition then
A wooden nutcracker guards
In a frosted windowpane,
To keep away evil spirits ...
Out wandering down your lane
And, the advent calendar
Which hung on the wall,
The Christmas carols sung
In the home by one and all
Ornaments of blown glass
And the Christmas tree ...
Born in many an old town
... A gift from Germany.
I stopped and stared at the prettiest gingerbread house
It was being decorated right then by a tiny gray mouse.
He gave me a wink and a nod and the friendliest “hi”.
You are doing a great job, I said to this sweet little guy.
I love decorating houses, he told me. I have a business card.
I gave him mine too, it said “Chelsea, song writing bard.”
He ran off rapidly after we did a little more chit chat
I turned and saw why; I had been followed by my nosey cat.
I walked into biology class and there was a gingerbread man.
Take a seat! He said sternly “whenever you can.”
Some of us were stunned. Where was our teacher?
That is my business, he said, reading our minds. My name is Preacher.
Preacher! What kind of name is that for a teacher?
I began to snicker, but even smiling is an overreach-er.
If you have a stern sub like this fellow, Mr. Preacher.
Who in no way resembled our instructor, the teacher.
Run, run
Lil gingerbread man
Run, run
As fast as you can
You look so yummy
And gooey too
That's why all the kids
Want to eat you
So, run, run
Lil gingerbread man
Run, run
As fast as you can
Gingerbread man
Gingerbread man
Please come to life
Gingerbread man
Gingerbread man
You're fill with spice
Open your eyes
That twinkles so bright
Gingerbread man
Gingerbread man
Please come to life
cinnamon gingerbread horse with a happy high hey
I feel you are clopping particularly fast today
with your lovely mane and your blaze so beautifully gray
we cannot catch you as you run swiftly away
Gingerbread houses have been pretty of course
But this one is amazing, the best I have seen.
The red and white peppermint are lovely as Norse
The striped candy canes are incredibly clean.
I want to bite in, or at least tear off a chunk.
But I dare not do it, for it is perfect as is.
Uh-oh. Did something fall off the back with a thunk?
I may have to take a taste to see if is as tasty as fizz.
I had heard of a gingerbread house, but a gingerbread mouse?
This story was told to me by a liar, a scoundrel, a louse.
The gingerbread mouse was living in a cracker box – Ritz.
If anyone shook it, he would come out and have many fits.
He was determined to stay in there until Christmas day.
But the chili-eating family kept scooting the crackers away.
They had been his hiding place, and he was angry at them.
He bit one of their fingers on Tuesday, a kid name of Jim.
My home sweet home be, by a salt water taffy sea
Where I dream dreamy dreams of whipped creams,
From a pillow of marshmallow on a bed of Jell-O
Under a bedspread of gingerbread, iced in red,
My doors and floors made of graham cracker s'mores
And gumdrops, lollipops and candy-coated rooftops.
(December, 6th, 2022)
Happy scents of gingerbread drift
Out from windows covered in snow.
Lights flicker and twinkle
Inside houses filled with
Dancing and stockings,
Amidst the joy of another
Year complete and the warmer
Season promising to come.
Although for some,
Loneliness permeates this festive cheer.
Odourless and invisible, a
Nativity wilted with presents unwrapped.
Every year a reminder.
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