It's  quiet here now,
The house is at peace,
Doors locked and mostly
The occupants are sleeping,

I am sitting alone on the sofa
Listening as my son
Adjusts upon his airbed
A few feet away,

This may well be
The last time I am here
With both my children,
And that saddens me,

I have a mad mother
A dysfunctional dad,
(At least they are alive)
Yet it seems a lonely life
Is just around the corner,

Not it seems worth the love of
A good woman,
Except that's not true I AM,
Its just you struggle to see

That you do

In  fact

Love

Me

A season for joy ,
Swings quickly by.

Frosty roads,
And shady skies.

For icicles form,
In the roof of my mind

As this season
Is bitter,
But sweet to the eye.

Santa Claus is coming.
This isn’t a luck situation.
He knows things, like if you’re sleeping.
Which is kind of creepy if you think about it.
I suppose I’m an open book.
It’s an implacable reality.

oops, better rhyme something.. let’s see..

“Santa, that elf commanda
will bring you all a panda
fresh from the jungles of Uganda
straight to your verandah”

Whew.. art is hard work.

Leeza has a small aluminum-tinsel Christmas tree in her room with a new-age LED-star topper. It slowly prisms through the color spectrum, breaking down light, like modern jazz. Small things can still enchant, if you’re open.

I was sipping dark-chocolate coffee while Lisa rearranged the ornaments on the tree - again (as head-elf, the tree is her purview). She was humming to herself unconsciously as she worked, like a finch in a beautifully lit, evergreen garden. There was no real melody to it, it was just happiness.

Peter (my bf) is here, he arrived last night - we’re workshopping instant gratification.

Even if things have been tough - I hope you have a joyous holiday - that you chose it, like an option in an app. Nothing’s sweeter than the bruised joy of someone who’s known sorrow.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

What is the flower that blooms each year
In flowerless days,
Making a little blaze
On the bleak earth, giving my heart some cheer?

Harsh the sky and hard the ground
When the Christmas rose is found.
Look! Its white star, low on earth,
Rays a vision of rebirth.

Who is the child that's born each year -
His bedding, straw:
His grace, enough to thaw
My wintering life, and melt a world's despair?

Harsh the sky and hard the earth
When the Christmas child comes forth.
Look! Around a stable throne
Beasts and wise men are at one.

What men are we that, year on year,
We Herod-wise
In our cold wits devise
A death of innocents, a rule of fear?

Hushed your earth, full-starred your sky
For a new nativity:
Be born in us, relieve our plight,
Christmas child, you rose of light!

by Cecil Day-Lewis, from " A Poet for Every Day of The Year"

I want to write a Christmas poem,
But the muse ain't in the mood;
I look outside, it seems like Spring.
I really think I'm *******.

There's not a flake of snow out there,
The sun shines in the blue;
I believe the squirrels are copulating.
I really think I'm *******.

Our geese stayed North again this year,
Our fauna's still in view;
It's hard to spot the cardinals;
I really think I'm *******.

There's lights strung round houses,
With inflatables on the lawns;
They're out of place,
Look crude and rude;
I really think I'm *******.

I'm not hearing silver bells
From sleighs running over snow;
It's a wonder we call this winter,
In Ontariario.

But... the tree is up,
The gifts well-wrapped
With Love and Best Wishes too;
So, in lieu of surely being *******,
This verse will have to do.

May this time live
Up to your definition
Of contentment

I hope you find comfort
In what is soul-stirringly
Sentimental to you

May your heart be sate
With gratifying peace
Of the past and present

I hope you find
Beauty in the moments
That go unnoticed

May your biggest gift be
The memories that will
Forever encapsulate your soul

Merry everything
A happy always

Beyond the shimmering window sashes 

And Santa-dashing  

Of Dean Street 

Darling  

Your eyes 

Anchor me

In a hot bay of 

Brandy butter. 

Your flashing emerald eyes  

Splash 

Their 

Emerald ice  

Onto my stunned salmon.   

As you slip back into Soho 

Will this moment

Spill over into now

Beginning   

Or like a thought 

Keep on spinning 

Spinning?

thoughts of tinsel and garland and stolen kisses under
mistletoe, of snow-covered walks, the prismed flakes
gathered garishly to glisten under the evening lamplight

of friends and family bearing cakes and drinks,
of hearty hugs and Santa hats, and toothy grins and silly
smiles of neighbors happily in their cups

the many pages since fallen from the calendar,
all shadows now, etched in their loveliest,
flawless in mind’s eye

2 little whos
in whoville dream
while dr. seuss
screams, "sam i am!"

a redblue fish
carols a zart
musicalic-
ious schlittenfahrt.

the grinch steals x-
mas.i&you
ask, "who will fix
a boy named sue?"