Christmas Verses I Wrote For Abuzz

Santa chugged mylanta alka seltzer and pepto and tums
Yelled at the reindeer, "Faster ya bums!"
The sleigh was hot with friction, smokin',
As it lit on roofs and waited for Santa to place a token
In each stocking and beneath each tree,
No time to take even a pea
(There was a pea salad on Andy Smith's table).
The elements of night were growing unstable.
Santa rolled up his sleeves:
"Gotta serve every child who believes,
From one to nine hundred and one,
Get all in on the fun."

Next went sleigh and crew
To the lands of gloom and grue,
For the heart of the season
Knows not spirit's treason;
But ministers to wrath and rue.

Santa, said one elf named Joe,
There's a child whose father says no
When asked if there is love named Santa.
The child has no gift;
He's not on the list.
Oh, Santa, what is the answer?

Santa clucked sadly with woe;
There is no answer friend Joe;
For magic dust I sprinkle
To make their hearts twinkle;
But, I cannot alter the nature
Of despair, of disbelief and failure
If hearts are closed and avenues cut off.
He choked with a sob and a cough.

That one's meager Christmas they served,
That one they lost the nerve.
Another one slept in booze and pills,
Soon to forget his worldly ills.
And when they left the plain of gloom and sadness
It left a stain on all their remaining gladness.

In the still sylvan night
Perchance a swinging light
What or who this Holiest hour
With lantern a-glower
Puts foot before foot
Entrants boot by boot
Moon-dapple bower
What eyes sweep the room
Broomstraw across the gloom
Peruse yon sleeping tadpole
Gloved hand pulls out of the hole
In his bag a fragment of star
To place it in center of the scar
Of moonlight across the blanket scroll

On the fly again
Santa rests, a toddy in hand.
He notes young Linda moved without warning;
She lived at the house below just this morning.
He sends elf Joe to reconoiter
Searching here and across the border.
She's here, Joe signals;
It's the girl with the pigtails.
They swoop; they land.
Asleep in the sand
The whole family huddled.
The elf's approach, befuddled.
I don't understand why some must hide.
And Joe the elf stood back and cried.

Pirate Pete hid among the rocks
Inside the many slopes and pocks
Listening for the swoosh of approaching sleigh and deer.
He lolled across the coarse stone sipping foaming beer.
In his hand a lasso to trap the fat man's ride,
A sword and pistol pressing his side.
"Swoo-" He hears it on high.
"-oosh'. He flings his rope to the sky.
With a twang the line grows taught;
Santa, elves and deer are caught.

Har, the delighted pirate cries;
"I've got you for all your lies.
Telling folks the reindeer are boys,
Giving out on the savior's birth mere toys;
I could make you walk a plank.
Arrr, in fact my ship just sank.
Would ye be for giving a poor pirate lad a ride?
I'll take it and swallow my pride."
"Get in young man," spoke stern Santa.
"Folks like you make me need Mylanta.
What's this guff that I'm a liar?
The truth of Christmas is life's fire,
With a little harmless fun.
Hey, look what I've done.
I don't mean to make you cry, friend.
Take this gift and let our argument end."
"Arr; I'm a pirate; I can never change.
In the end I'm gonna rob you though it seems strange.
Can you keep me an appointment for the mid of May?
For I intend to waylay you on the one called May Day."
Certainly I can;
Here shake my hand."
He let Pete down
And turned the sleigh around.
"Adios, you pirate," he yelled.
"Open your gift; it's swell."
The pirate removed the patch from his one eye
He opened the gift and began to cry.
"Arr, a teddybear,
With curly brown hair.
Thank you Santa Claus.
We'll not fight; there's no cause."
And Santa cried "Hi yo reindeer"
And sailed into a sky serene and clear.

The poems were written spontaneously and were given almost no revision.

These are very good edgar and quite humorous. How convenient that the name Santa rhymes with Mylanta

Thanks, colorbook. I tried starting a similar thread on here my first Christmas as a member, but the first reply derailed the effort and the thread died.

Edgar, those were wonderful. I think I've spotted an A2K elf!

Edgar a quick list of my favorite xmas voices-
Johnny Mathis
Nat King Cole
Bing Crosby
Vienna Boys Choir - Litttle Drummer Boy

And yours?

Johnny Mathis
Elvis Presley
Nat King Cole
Harry Belafonte
Bing Crosby
Mel Torme

Each year I write something for Christmas. Most of it turns to drivel, because so many beautiful phrases already out there obliterate my vision. I end by mimicing others' efforts and feel obliged to destroy about 99% of it. This year I am planning to write "Ebenezer's Ghost", a recasting of a tale I wrote about ten years ago. Will it be crap? Who knows until it gets underway?

Write until your heart is content! Drivel? Nonsense.

Albert Finney is my favorite movie scruge, I can't wait to watch it again.

I woke up this morning and there was about 3" of snow on the ground. The kids can actually go sledding today.
Let it snow-let it snow-let it snow.

My all-time favorite Scrooge is Alistair Sim in the 50s British film. I have always said that this film actually improves on Dickens' original story.

Alistair Sim, hmm, I not sure if I have seen that version. I'll have to check it out. :-)

It's black and white unless you discover the Turner colorized version.

Some movies look better in black and white, does that one?

I think it would play as well either way.

A significant cross section of people takes it upon themself to denigrate Christmas each year. Poor souls can't control their lives and keep the holiday in perspective. I for one never allow family or friend to put upon me to go places I'd rather not or to spend money I can't afford. Yet we have a merry season just the same.
I had a brother staying with me one year, a particularly sour apple. Approximately this same amount of days until December 25th we piled into his car to go to work. I opened the door and took my seat, singing a snatch of "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas." The miserable little fart went ballistic. For twenty minutes he ranted about how he hates and avoids Christmas. "If the tv or radio mentions it I change the channel. ... way to rob the pockests ... ". Well, I was too disheartened to argue with him. For three years that performance haunted me, particularly at this season of the year. Finally I decided that since I could never convert that guy in real life I would do it in a story. In a rage, I wrote "Ebenezer's Ghost", putting into it all of my relatives who had ever gotten on my bad side. By story's end they all had changed for the better, particularly my youngest brother. Just recently I have decided to revive the concept of the story and write a new version. Perhaps this time next year I will be inviting my friends to read it.