Christmas Poems

Well, what can I say that you don't already know? I obviously love poetry, and poetry can be categorized into genre (well, not really, but, I'm trying to build a website here : ) ). People write poems about things that matter to them...and Christmas, let's face it, is a pretty heavy event. I grew up celebrating Christmas, and I recall it fondly. I remember sneaking part way down the steps and seeing my mother putting gifts under the tree, and I remember I saw a new Fuji bike there, and, you know, just the feeling of excitement I had in my gut. I'm not going to lie: I had (have) good parents, who did (do) a lot for me, and, I guess now that I'm older, that's one of the things Christmas makes me think about. Okay, I know I have a way of getting corny as all hell, but, that's just the way I am... really, it's not a put on... I've written elsewhere about encouraging people to take off their armor so they can just be themselves for a minute...... it feels pretty good, by the way.

Now, as far as the whole Santa Claus deal, and telling kids that this pretend fellow is real... well, I've got mixed feelings on that topic, but, ultimately, it was a hell of a lot of fun, and that counts for something. In my more serious moments, when I was younger, you might have heard an anti-Tooth Fariy type diatribe out of me, but, now that I'm getting totally old and WAY boring, I say these things are fun, and that's both fine and dandy as well! So, this is a website, and, in order to get anywhere you have to have a theme, and the theme here is poetry, and thus I have to chop up the theme, and that's what I'm doing mate. So, here I'm presenting some Christmas poems. I'm selecting these poems carefully, and I hope you enjoy them, and I hope you appreciate my style of writing as well, because, I like humor, though, I often fail at being funny. Let's start off with the perhaps most classic of Christmas poems, written by Clement Clark Moore, who lived from 1779 - 1863.. Enjoy.

Twas the Night before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer. With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! "Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly! He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose! He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

This next piece I found just recently, and, frankly, it's a zinger. It's written by Ian McMillan

I Keep My Snowman In The Freezer

I keep my snowman in the freezer
Just behind the pies
He likes it there, he told me so
I can see it in his eyes.

I made him on a cold, cold morning
When the snow was fresh and deep
Now he sits in the freezer
Near the fish that we got cheap.

I keep my snowman in the freezer
And look at him each day.
If I’d left him in the garden
He’d simply have melted away.

But now he’s like my Grandma
Living somewhere safe and nice;
He’s in a frosty, snowy palace
On a throne of coldest ice.

I keep my snowman in the freezer
Near a lump of frozen beef
And I’ve got a treat for him in August:
I’m taking him to Tenerife!

Okay, guys, that's what I've got for right now. I might add a few more poems as we countdown Christmas 2005. Cheers. kf