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Creep Nov 2014
"You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and *****,
Comet and cupid and Donner and Blitzen,
But do you recall?
The most famous reindeer of all?

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Has a very shiny nose
And if you ever saw it
You would even say it glows.
All of the other reindeers
Used to laugh and call him names
They never let poor Rudolph
Join in any reindeer games


Then one foggy Christmas Eve,
Santa came to say,
Rudolph with your nose so bright,
Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?

Then all the reindeers loved him,
And they all shouted out with glee,
Rudolph the red-nose Reindeer
You'll go down in history!
"

Why is it that just because he
was asked for help by a celebrity (Santa)
and became associated with this celebrity,
all the other reindeer all of a sudden love him?

Doesn't that mean that the reindeers only love him
because he is now a celebrity
and not him as a reindeer?
humph :(
idk kinda noticed it...
lyrics r from metro lyrics...
Anand Dec 2014
Yee hee hee hee haw
ha ha ha ha ha
the old Laughing Santa wished
íFeliz Navidad!

with his eight little reindeers, carrying the sleigh
he came swiftly, flying our way
sleigh bells ringing, whooshing through the snow
his sturdy little reindeers, rushed in a row
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and *****
Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen
they swoosh and crash and dash and scoot
they bolt so fast, and look so cute
children singing and dancing with joy
as he showers some glitters of happiness in sky

It's an occasion of celebration
there's no room for sadness
let's spread the joy by doing
a random act of kindness

Yee hee hee hee haw
ha ha ha ha ha
the old Laughing Santa wished
íFeliz Navidad!
Simon Clark Aug 2012
CHRISTMAS PARADISE

The table was filled with lots of things to eat,
Mince Pies, Stuffing, Turkey and many other meats,
A candle in the centre to flicker out its gold,
A special time for all of us to cherish and to hold.

Everyone pulls a ******* and wears their hats with pride,
As they sit around the burning logs warming all inside,
But through the window they can see a chestnut skating on the ice,
It tries to break through the frozen sheet to a Christmas paradise.

The singers are singing their tunes of Christmas dreams,
So that everybody's hearts and eyes can gleam,
The ribbon that will lie stretched out across the floor,
Will be forever engraved to our minds and deep within our core.

From every house along their street giggling can be heard,
And silent prayers are spoken but God hears every word,
To sprinkle merriment upon their place if only for one day,
So that they can celebrate Christmas in their own special way.

ONE ENCHANTED DAY

I looked from the window on a misty Christmas morn,
The fog was thicker than it had ever been before,
It was cold and quiet and all around my house,
Nothing appeared cheerful not even the decorated tree,
The fairy she looked glumly down,
And the baubles hung their heads in shame,
The tinsel draped all carelessly among the fading lights,
Above the fire there stood one solitary card from someone I once knew.

Around the foot of my Christmas tree not a gift awaited me,
Santa forgot to visit and it all seems so lonely,
I was beginning to despair that this was just another day,
But along came an angel and this she said to me,
I'll give you a tree with decorations so bright and a mantle full of cards,
If you'll enjoy this special day with every inch of your heart,
And so now my Christmas is full of cheer, saved from heartbreak and despair,
I thank the moon and all the stars for my one enchanted day.

SANTA HOPPED ONTO HIS SLEIGH

Santa hopped onto his sleigh with his sack of treats,
Working hard and happy to deliver to the streets,
He carried with him gifts of gold, gifts of card and gifts of cheese,
In answer to the kiddies� wishes for around their Christmas trees.

Santa hopped onto his sleigh pulled by Reindeers strong,
There was Comet and there was Blitzen on his journey long,
Rudolph led the team of merry deer, his nose a shiny red,
While Santa glided down the chimneys - the children still in bed.

Santa hopped onto his sleigh running as fast as he could,
With Donner, Dancer and ***** he knew they'd do what they should,
Old Dasher and Reindeer Cupid flew Santa to the skies,
So that to every little girl and boy he could bring a surprise.

Santa hopped onto his sleigh with thoughts for everyone,
He knew he had to finish soon as he saw the rising sun,
High into the clouds they soared leaving only a jangling bell,
Removing all traces of his presence so that no one on Earth could tell.

SPARE A THOUGHT

As you sit there feeding your face full of seconds and thirds,
And opening gifts that you may not deserve,
There is a place where Santa won't go,
The doorways and steeples with people freezing below,
They only know its Christmas because the streets are so bare,
But on this day of happiness - who will show them some care?

So spare a thought this Christmas, spare a thought please do,
Spare a thought this Christmas for those less fortunate than you.

As we sit here laughing and falling asleep before the screen,
And eating lots more pudding - some with extra cream,
There is a place where Reindeer won't tread,
In the shelters and the hideaways filled with loneliness and dread,
They heard about a Christmas in a "once upon a time",
But on this day of indulgency - who will put their own greed on the line?

So spare a thought this Christmas, spare a thought please do,
Spare a thought this Christmas for those less fortunate than you.

As you secretly think of the things Christmas didn't bring to you,
And thinking of seasonal games for you to play and do,
There is a place so lost that Santa cannot find,
Just a box of cardboard where hope gets left behind,
They were told that Christmas was just around the corner,
It's a day that never comes - who will stand and be more than a mourner?

So spare a thought this Christmas, spare a thought please do,
Spare a thought this Christmas for those less fortunate than you.

So spare a thought this Christmas, spare a thought please do,
Spare a thought this Christmas for those less fortunate than you.

STOCKINGS

Timmy had a stocking hung from his bedroom door,
He wished that it be filled with things he'd never had before,
Maybe a toy soldier beating his drum,
Maybe a model sailor drinking his bottle of ***,
He hoped for a motorcar that could speed around his house,
Or maybe a cuddly toy the image of Mickey Mouse.

He hoped that Father Christmas would bring something for his mum,
Maybe a freshly baked cake or something filled with plum,
A brand new box of magic tricks for my brother Sam,
And a gift for dad to show how grateful I really am,
And Timmy hoped that his dog wouldn't be missed out,
Cause Rover would be sad and blue on Christmas day, no doubt.

Timmy was always thinking of others not only of himself,
That�s why he left a small token for Santa on the shelf,
There was plate filled with cookies - the ones with the choc-chip,
And there was some brandy to keep out the cold - just a little nip,
He also left a bag of many little snacks,
For all the hungry reindeer that'd help fly Santa back.

THE MEANING OF THIS CHRISTMAS

As you huddle beneath your Christmas tree,
Amidst a flame of warmth,
Opening presents, sharing presents, and sharing laughter too,
Remember the meaning of this Christmas is love and joy - peace, happiness for you.

Try to know the story of a baby that was born,
In a manger bed from a woman pure as snow,
Her husband he watched lovingly,
As he calmly cooled her brow.

On that starry night three wise travellers appeared,
Bearing gifts of golden wonder,
Without a need for return,
They sought only a moment with a new life that to this Earth He placed.

And now two thousand years away,
Let's try to recall the message of Christmas,
As we fill our plates with plenty - turkey and chocolate treats,
Singing carols and dancing alive with glee.

Try not to be contented with an overwhelming greed,
Look within your heart and see what you really need,
Is it music? Is it toys? Is it the latest craze?
Learn to embrace a loved one without a possession haze.

Hear the silent footsteps of the men, who travelled all night,
See the snowflakes drifting down from the heavens above,
A reminder to us all,
The meaning of this Christmas my dear, it must be love.

THE ROBIN

Is it the distant whisper of a thousand tiny bells?
Or is it the carolling that tells us when it starts?
I wish for the knowledge from many wishing wells,
I now know when Christmas arrives from the beating of my heart.

It's the day when first you see a robin perched upon a tree,
When you hear his little chirping from a snow covered branch,
You'll see his red breast moving in time with your heartbeat so free,
Be it snowy, be it wet, be it sunny, be it cold - I'll know from the robin on my ranch.

He comes my way each Christmas week and settles in his nest,
It's then I'll know that my sweet family will arrive,
And bring with them such hilarity that makes me truly blessed,
So I raise up my eyes to God and give thanks that I'm alive.

THE SNOWMAN COMES TO LIFE

Little Josephine spent yesterday outside,
She darted through the streets feeling snow under foot,
Her face shone out delight; her smile couldn't hide,
Nothing could ***** the blanket of white not even the blackness of soot,
So she found a silent spot, a space open wide,
A place to build her snowman, where he could always stay put.

She built him high and tall, as tall as her legs would allow,
She made him round and whole with a face that looked so proud,
Now the snow had settled down, it lay upon the bough,
She drew his eyes from coal and a mouth to laugh aloud,
She gave him nose of carrot, hat and scarf but darkness fell and go, she had to now,
She told the snowman she'd return tomorrow, this with crossed heart she vowed.

Home she ambled to her sleepy room to lay down her sweet head,
In her silent sleep that night the wondrous dreams she had,
She saw her snowman come to life and dance, not sit, around instead,
She watched him smile and seeing him fly - it all just made her glad,
In her books and stories a tale like this she'd never read,
She knew it was a dream yet she wasn't sad, the visions she saw were good - not bad.

Little Josephine returned the very next day,
Her snowman was gone the sunshine was here,
Her eyes welled up - her tongue no words to say,
The hat and scarf still on the ground showed nothing was to fear,
For in her mind she knew he'd visit - he would find a way,
If he couldn't get back inside, she'd made memories to recall each and every year.

TWO LOVERS HOLDING HANDS

Two lovers holding hands across the table,
Share this Christmas time,
Something simple no fancy foods,
Not concerned with wine,
They focus on the laughter, on the pleasure of this day,
As their smiles intertwine.

They take an elegant candle and place it in the mud,
They light the wick and out its fire shines bright,
There material belongings for which they will not care,
As they rest their heads on the carpet of endless white,
Holding each other tight they'll gaze beyond the stars,
Nothing will matter as their souls become one this Christmas night.

Two lovers holding hands for eternity,
Sharing each Christmas time,
Something precious and something true,
No concerns for design,
They focus on the sharing, on the wonder of each day,
As their lives will suddenly be defined.
Written in 2004
Larry B Nov 2010
There's Dasher and Dancer
Then Prancer and *****
Comet and Cupid
Then Donner and Blitzen

If you think these are reindeer
Then you would be wrong
And it's not crazy words
In some Christmassy song

See, they are my brothers
Don't anybody laugh
For these are hillbilly names
From Polecat Path

It's a place in the hills
In East Tennesee
On the top of a mountain
As high as can be

Here, Christmas is different
There's no reindeer or sleigh
We use an old covered wagon
It works better that way

We make toys in the smoke house
For most of the year
While smoking our hams
'Til Christmas is near

Then we load up the wagon
With granny on the reins
Her wooden teeth all gummy
With rootbeer stains

Now the wagon is pulled
By my brothers and I
We're plumb tuckered out
'Cause people can't fly

Well, you get the picture
About Christmas in the hills
It's a hillbilly adventure
On wagon wheels

Now there's much more to tell
But it's time to run off
'Cause we're loading the wagon
Your friend, Rudolph
Ron Tranmer Nov 2011
Jolly old St. Nicholas,
lean your ear this way.
There’s something to be said
for the Santa role you play.

You bring happiness to children
with bikes, and dolls and toys,
and instill the Christmas spirit
into grown-up girls and boys.

But you know the greatest gift
isn’t found upon your sled,
and it isn’t all the sugar plumbs
that dance in children’s heads.

It is not one brought by Dasher,
or by Donner, or by Dancer.
It came wrapped in swaddling clothing.
Even Santa knows the answer.

The greatest gift is Jesus Christ.
The Savior of the earth.
And Christmas is the special day
we celebrate His birth

Christ was born into the world
and taught us all He could.
He knows if we’ve been good or bad,
and hopes we’ll all be good.

Santa, we’ll enjoy the gifts
that on Christmas come our way
but it’s not gifts,…It’s Christ the Lord,
we celebrate this  day!
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2016
you know what i find funny? the phrase: i could eat you. juxtaposing vide cor meum against... this is the part where punctuation marks are never collision prone diacritical marks... but then again, there's that dietary joke... i could eat you... dependence on your bones not being properly disavowed within a langoustine broth... and there you are: a grey area mindful of Stalin... *****! i'm trying to humanise ******, stop interrupting! where once a moths' flutter, later a rainbow in the nacht! mind that niqab... nicht would mean nothing. some insinuated cappuchino, some cackles... some said cutie-pies invoking rouge cheeks... every time i watch these culinary shows i get thinking about cannibalism to counter veganism... and then i laugh... i don't want to find stinking socks and political correctness as "my way, did it to suit Lascaux cavern graffiti"... i preferred wanking than keeping up with women... it's the song i heard before lambs stiffened and muslims became muslims, and falafel was mince... ******, get under the hosepipe and you're there, all freely gagging for the fizz... a touch of tinsel... vide cor meum... return of policy... as half-heartfelt kaleidoscope returning to define a rainbow... i love that phrase given the palette opportunity... i could eat you. it's the demonic encouragement that solidifies the stench into what's to be seasoned properly... i don't know.. the phrasing: i could eat you sounds more formidable in delayed practice than: i can **** you... plus the gazpacho... which means: Batman ate cold cauliflower soup and slurred to slurp the question: but it's cold? Baldwin replied: it's supposed to be! they said orthography as a rigidness of aesthetic, i said... that's questionable whether any is applicable, given we're talking about graffiti.

i got tired of sensing other people's jealousy,
and tried to love them,
which ended up to be as much as a matrimony
toward one woman, ambition-bound
to incarnate the matrimony of swans...
  and the poor old ******, left to fantasy in
his days as a widower...
   every time i look at a lonely swans
i try to duck-quack the thing into existence...
            but there are variation of marriage...
a west london accountant can speak terrible
crap against an ethnicity i try to not identify with...
but i am courageously borne from,
    and therefore have to express some affiliation...
as a matter of principle...
  i rather not, but iu must, even though i sprechen
a host tongue... and am, therefore,
embedded with claims of socialite elitism...
                 but then i compare...
and these these comparisons are the due phrase...
Marilyn Manson's *a minute of decay

is a chance to hear the bass guitar overpower
           the drums... a bit like a culinary pistachio
moment in a risotto...
   i want room to breathe in!
     i want vaughan williams' fantasia on a theme
by thomas tallis... i sanctify the need
   for prokofiev's lieutenant kíjé's suite...
(dots are optional, the syllables aren't,
a classical dot above the iota might revel in
being the defining moment of tonguing /
dissecting a word... but it doesn't have to be so)
i need air to breath in, a moment to whimper...
why do the **** love Chopin and not Liszt?
   a bid ******* odd... i don't like either Chopin
or Liszt... because as Kaiser Yoseph said
in amadeus... to many notes...
and i agree... vivaldi made violins into cherub
       pumpernickle sparrows -
you danced, you joyed, you came across St. Vitus' dance...
   you were doing arithmetic as concord speed
within a framework of even (white) and odd (black)
numbers... once you played the nocturnal Fabergé -
someone suggested you move the ******
  goose to the Hermitage, and frame it!
why are the Japanese are the only Europeans in Asia...
      never mind, they just are,
hence they compete for playing Chopin like they consider
sushi to be a culinary exception of the tartar -
minus the influence, obviously, hence the stress to
impose Chopin... but never Liszt... odd...
          template virtuoso and you think of Liszt
than you might conjure Chopin...
           better than that... conjure champagne
bottles blundering to the volcano's worth of fizz...
still... the Japanese are a curiosity...
first of all: they abide by Chopin and chopsticks
not being utilised when gobbling sushi...
   they have the ambassadors of kimono,
samurai, origami, karaoke, bonßai (zye, rye),
          Fukushima... Hiroshima... yep, that place
were stanley lee derived the concept of x-men...
          still, they have permanent ambassadors in
opur midsts... words that can't be "translated" due
to etymological puritanism...
       finally the Portuguese sailed away, and founded
Brazil on the promise of an infinite supply of toothpicks
from the Amazon -
or? hai sensei!           hatch that with the catchphrase:
     kajagoogoo: shy-shy, hush-hush, eye-to-eye.
          we're storming the labyrinth right not,
and i still can't believe that poetry revolves around
the rhythm of rhyme... play any ping-pong, lately?
     no wonder poetry is a peacocking dollop
of clogged-up cow dung... it's just asking
for a *****-slap in a playground.
           but why Chopin and not Liszt?
the **** are what Napoleon was to the Duchy of
Warsaw... they love that arithmetic of
a pebble-dasher's *******...
       wet dreams... some authentic curiosities of
civilisation still have them... i wouldn't recommend
listening to them recounting the fables, personally...
i'd listen in on the succubus jerking them off...
  and just recently i was walking the deaf streets at
night with a bottle of beer and felt the bottle
of beer almost being tugged from my hand...
  and some say that eating a woman's umbilical-chord
is what's necessary to live as a man to later
sing some aria; or like drinking a pregnant woman's
**** will ensure you don't become myopic...
             i don't like Chopin,
i don't like Liszt either... i want a room, and a chance
to breathe... at the end of the classical expression
summarising the wind, we had a return
to the rooting in Africa... earthly delights
and a grumbling stomach in need of feeding,
  jazz did the work for us, jazz still had
an orchestral element to add a Lacan of all things
worthy of deconstruction...
       but then the French came along and shoved
fondue into our ears... and we said
alight with an eureka moment... pop!
             n'ah... the moment when the bass overpowers
the drums... i really have this wild fascination
with the bass guitar...
                 because i don't get Mozart,
and i do think that Handel did much more than
even the sacrificial lamb that Beethoven is...
                  listen... poetry doesn't have to be
music... rhyming is ping-pong anyway...
but as long as you feel in debt concerning music,
the music will come on its own accord...
today i was rattled by a mix of dub (without a step)
and beck's odelay... cruise-missile dylan...
give or take...
      well, given the italicised pr.s. (pre scriptum) -
much later an aged blonde boasted about snorkeling
******* and young ****... and missing out
when she teased me coming back to her abode...
           moth steals from a butterfly,
butterfly never turns into a daisy...
                       you're still a **** and i'm about
half of the total worth of being a ****...
which makes as equal... or queue more.
           variably condoned to be synonym with
mosque...  but i said mannequin...
     it's this **** with the five a day....
Christendom mentioned fruit & veg...
Islam mentioned variations of a murmur...
   is prayer classified as fruit, or vegetable?
you're as bewildered as i am...
   i too thought tomato is a fruit...
turns out it's a vegetable...
primarily due to basil, feta, and the mediterranean.
               herring belong in the baltic,
******* attempting that sort of ballistics...
ask about the relationship between
              a. yan sobieski
         b. ******
                    c. window on arabia (vienna,
counter st. petersburg) -
     oh you'll get many thanks...
sure... you'll end up becoming assured
that dogs don't need petting, but training,
and that you have to make all friends bound
to be kenneled, because they won't learn otherwise;
it's a bit sad...
          for about a minute...
                   you tried being peace-abiding,
peace-mindful...
   you wanted to state compassion...
  in the end people need a slap... or as 2000 years of
history proved... a crucifix.
Santa's Lazy Elf

Five more days till Christmas,
Santa and his crew
were working overtime making
children's dreams come true .
Singing carols, whistling tunes,
as the hours ticked away,
except for little Edison
the elf that went astray.
Instead of making toys
in Santa's assembly line,
he was hanging out with Rudolph
beneath the snow capped pines.
As Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus took
a look around,
they noticed lazy Edison
was nowhere to be found.
They decided they'd had enough
this elf will surely be fired,
scratched their heads and
realized another must be hired.
Dasher heard them talking
and thought this can't be so,
never in elf's history has
someone had to go.
He searched the winter wonderland
and under the Northern Lights
Edison and Rudolph were
frolicking in flight.
He said "Come down from there
your behavior's a disgrace,
Christmas Eve is almost here and
you're about to be replaced.
Edison soon realized his days
of slacking were done,
that there'd be consequences
for goofing off and having fun.
He knew he had no place to go
if Santa didn't let him stay
his heart began to pound,
as Rudolph ran way.
He hurried as fast as he could
to tell Santa he was wrong,
beg him for forgiveness
and show him he belonged.
As the other elves were caroling
he tried to sneak inside,
but Santa saw him coming out of the
corner of his eye.
He placed his hands upon his hips
and firmly shook his head,
"What shall I do with you
my elf," Santa firmly said.
"I see you when you're sleeping
I know when you're awake,
did you not read your history book
he said for goodness sake!"
Santa soon forgave him cause
his heart is made of gold,
and Edison became the
hardest worker I am told.
The moral of this story is
we all must do our part,
and jolly old St Nick has always
had a heart.
Merry Christmas to all of you
on this holiest of days,
may all your dreams come true
as you gather and celebrate!

Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © December 2013
All Rights Reserved
Natalia mushara Jun 2015
Big time do
Big time yo
Girl in limlight
Playin dasher in da show
barnoahMike Oct 2010
In this small coastal Village,,setting out to explore the Many caves.   My heart raced with 'TALES OF TREASURE" !  SO--Off I went.   After a 2 hour Jeep ride,  Flashing Lights from the Sky,  Dropping containers , as if floating to the Ground,   each was about 5' by 5' with an ENBLAZENED MARKING  on the surface.    As I came to the first the Pulsating-Flashing from the MARKING  ,,SIMPLY FORMED THE LETTER  "D".   WOW,  I THOUGHT  " A CASE OF "D's"....T he warning  on the latch,in  SMALL CAPS:   "OPEN AND SHARE"!   I DID AND I AM ! ! !    Millions of pieces of Parchment, folded with a Gold-Leaf "D" on each  ! !   Here's  "WHAT I SHARE"----(# 1)= DASHER-MAN=  "The person who,no doubt with great training,  HAS the Particular ability to "PUT-DOWN" just about Everything that YOU deem to be Fair and Upright.   (# 2)=  DOUSE-SPREADER = A device used to and for the express purpose  of putting out those Little Fires that seem to Crop Up JUST at the wrong time ! !     (# 3)=  DUBIOUS-CLAMPS =  When those thoughts you are having  don't seem QUITE RIGHT,,  THESE  Tools will keep them in check ! !   ( # 4)= DRAB-SHINERS=  Highly trained folks,  with the Special ability to Really bring some BRIGHTNESS to Your day,   When it has been Particular DULL ! !    ( # 5 ) = DRIBBLE-CLOTH=  When a Person keeps on HARPING on the same subject and sees no other solution,   use this  SPECIAL CLOTH to  Wipe the Surface  clean,,,THEN "try-again"   ! !      __N O W_ INSTRUCTIONS SAY ;;;'"  MEMORIZE THESE"    *AND THEN WE"LL GET TO SEE SOME MORE OF "DEEEZ"
Copyright @2010    barnoahMike           Mike Ham
David Ehrgott Dec 2014
Mr. Santa can I have your reindeer for Christmas
Mr. Santa lend me your reindeer for Christmas
She was only seventeen
When she meant the world to me
So come on Santa please
Lend them to me
So I can see my sweet Louise

Mr. Santa can I have your reindeer for Christmas
Mr. Santa lend me your reindeer for Christmas
She meant the world to me
When she moved to far to see
Now she's living in Miami
So Santa please lend them to me
Lend them to me

Send Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and *****
Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen
And just so I can see
Send Rudolph with his red nose PLEASE
Oh, Santa won't you please

Mr. Santa can I have your reindeer for Christmas
Mr. Santa lend me your reindeer for Christmas...
RAJ NANDY Dec 2020
Friends, I welcome the Season of Christmas with lesser known facts about Rudolph and the other Reindeers who brings Santa loaded with gifts for the children! I have also posted the lyrics of this popular song here below, –Raj Nandy, New Delhi, 01 Dec 2020.

WELCOMING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON WITH -
     ‘’RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER’’!

A Sad Beginning - With a Popular Melodious Ending:
The original story of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer began in 1939,
With a Jewish Chicago copywriter named Robert May.
May  worked in the ad department of Montgomery Ward, a department
store chain,
Which every year purchased and gave away free Christmas coloring books
to children.
In 1939 they decided to create their own brand, and tasked May to
compose about an animal for amusement of children as best as he can.
May did so in August, following the death of his wife due to cancer, with a small daughter Barbara left behind to look after!
Remembering his daughter’s love for deer at the Lincoln Park Zoo, May composed about a little reindeer with a shiny nose.
That year during Christmas Montgomery Ward distributed 2.4 million copies which became very popular!
In 1940, May’s brother-in-law Johnny Marks, a song writer, composed the famous lyric to the legendary song as we know today.
Gene Autry sang the lyrics recording as hit No. I on the US Charts the week  of Christmas of 1949 as records say!

Lesson Embedded in the Song:
The other reindeers named Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen,
All bullied the Rudolph, the youngest of them all who had a bright red shining nose, and left him out of all their reindeer games!
But in the true spirit of Christmas, Santa selected Rudolph to lead and guide his sleigh,
Thereby disapproving all types of Racial Discrimination due to one’s Looks!
Now friends read the Lyrics of this legendary song which has been sung by various famous singers like Dean Martin, Nat King Cole etc,
And they are all available on ‘You Tube’ for free listening!

Lyrics of The Famous Song:
“You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and *****
Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen
But do you recall
The most famous reindeer of all?
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Had a very shiny nose
And if you ever saw it
You would even say it glows
All of the other reindeer
Used to laugh and call him names
They never let poor Rudolph
Join in any reindeer games
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say
"Rudolph, with your nose so bright
Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"
Then how the reindeer loved him
As they shouted out with glee
"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
You'll go down in History"
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
Judy Klein Nov 2013
The old fire place
was least 90 years old
It came with the cabin as the story unfolds
it was a log cabin with a stone chimney
the chimney ran all the way down in side
Where near was a chair where the bearded man reside
Now as the story is told
The wood was cut and properly stacked
Along side the fire place was a burlap sack
we looked through the window and what did we see
lots of toys and a Christmas tree
dancing elf's were all about
was a huge locomotive train sitting on a track
going around and round click clack
bells were ringing
The angles were singing
  Christmas chimes were hanging
there was even a drum set banging
our child eyes were all lit up
as we lean against the window pane,
looking in and seeing the tree filled with candy canes
as the little elf's drank out of Christmas cups
There was Santa loving it so much
wow their getting ready for the Christmas year
** ** ** we heard him say
as his long white beard was white and gray
we have to make the toys
for all the little girls and boys
dancing and prancing  running all about
Mrs Clause is in the kitchen hearing her shout
baking cookies
pies and candy canes ties
hair pulled back with her apron on
Singing Christmas songs
The little else was singing along
wrapping presents and filling socks
Near Santa chair hung the Christmas clock
oh how exciting this Christmas year
awaiting for the reindeer to appear
on Christmas eve night that's coming near
Santa string the wood in the old fire place
warming the cabin for the season race
whistling and singing all night  long
Christmas eve the reindeer came
Dasher and prancer,
Donne,r and blithesome
Rudolph the famous reindeer of all
not finished ,need to put in a poem...
Nadia Dec 2019
Twas the last day of school
before a long winter break
Not a student was learning,
they were all munching on cake

The children had tidied,
supplies all snug in their places
With candy cane smiles
lighting up their sweet faces

The artwork was stowed
in their backpacks with care
In the hope that they'd bring
holiday cheer home to share

When outside the portable
there arose such a clatter
Ms. G sprang from the party
to see what was the matter

The class followed her out,
filling up the whole porch
And right out in front of them,
near as a bright as a torch

Rudolph, nose blazing red
through the dark Vancouver rain,
Behind him the reindeer
pulling Santa’s sleigh like a train

Santa jumped out spritely,
red hat bouncing with glee
He waved at the group and
boomed out, "Hello there Ms. G,"

“And Division 14,
all of you good girls and boys.
We’re rehearsing our run
to practice delivering toys”

The reindeer pranced all round,
putting on a fine show
Santa offered his hand and said,
“Come on Ms. G, let’s go,”

“We’ll drop you in Mexico
before we head back,”
Ms. G happily agreed, asking
“do you have time for a snack?”

The class joyfully welcomed
the jolly crew to the party
They delighted in the games
and the food, eating hearty

Too soon it was time
for the guests of honour to go
Santa sprang to his sleigh and
exclaimed, “**, **, **,”

"Now, Rudoph and Dasher!
Dancer, Prancer and *****!
Now, Comet! on, Cupid!
On, Donner on Blitzen!

“To the top of the portable
then over the school
To Mexico we go,
to Ms. G’s holiday by the pool.”

And off the sleigh flew
with Ms. G safely strapped in,
Her pink toque a-bobbing,
her face all a-grin

They heard him exclaim,
ere he drove out of sight—
"Happy Holidays to all,
and to all a good night!"
Wrote a little rhyme for little one's teacher holiday card after twas the night before xmas
Bob B Nov 2016
Did you happen to notice
That last year Santa's sleigh
Was missing an important
Figure, by the way?

Let's see: Comet and *****
Along with Cupid and Prancer
Were there, and so were Donner,
Dasher, Blitzen, and Dancer.

Which reindeer was missing?
Rudolph? Ah, you guessed it.
The news was out there, but
The media had suppressed it.

(Because of frequent fog,
Santa was being sensible
In counting on dear Rudolph,
Who had become indispensable.)

It all started like this:
On the morning of Christmas Eve,
Rudolph was tired from having
Been on the qui vive

For sneaky present robbers
All the previous night.
By noon, poor ol' Rudolph
Looked a sorry sight.

To perk himself up a bit--
The "where" is still unclear--
He dipped into a little
Too much Christmas "cheer."

Now I don't know about you,
But Rudolph's nose would flicker
Whenever he drank wine
Or any other liquor.

When the team of reindeer
Lined up, Santa could tell
That sleigh-guiding Rudolph
Wasn't doing so well.

Needless to say, Santa
Really got a whiff
When he approached his friend
And took a little sniff.

"I can tell, dear Rudolph,
That you've been making merry.
Did you turn your eggnog
Into a Tom and Jerry?"

"I think--hiccup!--a little,"
Said Rudolph with a blush.
"Go to bed," said Santa.
"We are in a rush."

That night Santa was forced--
Although he felt remorseful--
To use toys with lights
To guide him. How resourceful!

So last year if the batteries
To your toys were run down,
Causing disappointment
And many a tear and frown,

Don't feel so sad.
They went to a good cause:
They helped to distribute
Gifts from Santa Claus.

Regarding this year, I
Don't want to keep you guessin':
Rudolph's back in service.
I think he learned his lesson.

But some say Santa's considering--
Despite objections and moans--
Future gift deliveries
With the use of Amazon's drones.

- by Bob B
Larry B Apr 2010
I woke up on Christmas Eve
It was late, in the middle of the night
When I saw him under the Christmas tree
He give me such a terrible fright

I thought it was a cat burglar or something
Who was trying to steal from me
And I had a 52 inch color television
Under that Christmas tree

So I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could
To try to find me a kinife
But I just couldn't find one anywhere
Remind me to have a talk with my wife

Anyway, I grabbed up the toaster behind the bread
That was sitting on the cabinet shelf
I snuck up behind him, like a ninja in sneakers
And was planning on killing that elf

Of course I didn't know it, at the time it occurred
That the fat man, was old Santa Claus
It wouldn't have mattered to me at the time
Cause he touched my remote with his paws

I almost had him, when I heard this sound
That was coming from my very own kitchen
It was, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****
Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen

Those eight tiny reindeer had attacked me
I had hoofprints all over my head
And that's when the fat man in the big red suit
Turned around to me and he said

"I'm just gonna borrow your color tv,
So I can watch the football game"
"The one in my workshop is only 19 inches.
And it's just really too small and lame"

Before I could tell him to forget it buddy
I heard the sound of him slamming my door
Those eight bully reindeer had wrapped me in tinsel
And left me helpless on the livingroom floor

Well, that was the last time I saw him
And my tv was never returned
So make sure you hide your color tv's
Take it from someone who's learned
Larry B Nov 2010
I woke up early on Christmas Eve
It was late, in the middle of the night
When I saw him under the Christmas tree
He give me such a terrible fright

I thought it must be a cat burglar
Who was trying to steal from me
And I had a fifty-two inch color television
Under that Christmas tree

So I ran to the kitchen as fast as I could
To try to find me a kinife
But I just couldn't find one anywhere
Remind me to have a talk with my wife

Anyway, I grabbed up the toaster behind the bread
That was sitting on the cabinet shelf
I snuck up behind him, like a ninja in sneakers
And was planning on killing that elf

Of course I didn't know it, at the time it occurred
That the fat man, was old Santa Claus
It wouldn't have mattered to me at all
Cause he touched my remote with his paws

I almost had him, when I heard this sound
That was coming from my very own kitchen
It was, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****
Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen

Those eight tiny reindeer had attacked me
I had hoofprints all over my head
And that's when the fat man in the big red suit
Turned around to me and said

"I'm just gonna borrow your color tv,
So I can watch the football game"
"The one in my workshop is only nineteen inches,
And it's really too small and lame"

Before I could tell him to forget it buddy
I heard the sound of him slamming my door
Those eight bully reindeer had wrapped me in tinsel
And left me helpless on the livingroom floor

Well, that was the last time I saw him
And my tv was never returned
So make sure you hide your color tv's
Take it from someone who's learned
25th of December
Came Christ the redeemer
Emerged the age of Christianity
The largest in the history of humanity
Along rose the Church and the Pope
Jerusalem gave people a new hope
The 12 apostles followed his sign
Spreading the words of Jesus Christ
But good never comes without its parallèle
And it came in the form of Pontius Pilate
30 pieces of silver satisfied Judas
A man's greed killed Jesus
Betrayed but never abandoned
Crucified and yet reformed
Two days passed after that cursed Friday
And he returned on Easter Sunday
Easter came with the Easter bunny
Began the egg hunt, entertaining so many
And then came the best of the best
The festival which cloaked the rest
Jingle bells, reindeers, mistletoe
It won the hearts of both young and old
Began the Christmas fever
T'was delightful for every believer
The quest for the right tree
The perfect gifts for family
Even the children were not left behind
Santa Claus brought their shine
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, *****, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Made his coming a sight to remember
The lovely winter announced its coming
And spring notified its leaving
The glorious season made everyone gay
The white snow, the one horse open sleigh
Carols made Christmas melodious
The community greetings made it glorious
A holiday Longly waited for
A season always remembered for
Christmas, the time of joy and love
Enjoy this season and await a new year with a fresh beginning and hope...
Kirke Wise Dec 2018
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the coop
Not a creature was stirring, because of the chicken ****.
The scratch grains were flung on the floor with great care,
In hopes that soon they would eat some better fare.

The chickens were nestled all snug in their nest,
While they pondered which worms tasted the best.
With their mom in some soup, and dad lunch meat,
Their high tech coop simply couldn't be beat.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from the perch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, they flew like a flash,
Peering through the pane as they heard another smash.

The LED spotlights on the coop outside,
Gave a midday luster to make it hard to hide.
When what to their wondering eyes they all saw,
But imprints in the snow of a large predator's paw.

With other tracks spotted, they all took a vote,
Then they knew in a moment it must be a Coyote.
More rapid than eagles his cousins they came,
And he howled, and yodeled, and called them by name!

"Now Coy-dasher! now, Coy-dancer! now, Coy-prancer and Coy-*****!
On, Coy-comet! On, Coy-cupid! on Coy-donner and Coy-blitzen!
To the top of the coop! To the top of the fence!
A fresh chicken meal! We will soon dispense!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the coop-top the cousins they flew,
With snarling teeth, for some "chicken stew".

And then, in a twinkling, the hens heard on the roof
Much prancing and pawing and it was no spoof.
And I as the "farmer" now checked my phone,
Because an SMS text made the situation known.

The varmints were dressed in fur, some mangy in spots,
I knew that soon they would be having second thoughts.
Wiring, and controls that a coyote can't hack,
Made a pest-proof coop, impervious to attack.

Their eyes-how they twinkled! The electric fence made a flurry!
The predator deterrents had reacted in a hurry!
Their growling mouths now drew up like a little bow,
As their fur turned white from the highly conductive snow.

The stump in the yard was an early warning device,
To detect all the varmints that the fowl would entice .
Sound masking systems had been activated too,
As well as an outdoor alert lamp which flashed red and blue.

The Alpha coyote was chubby and plump, like a jolly old elf,
Or rather an elf who had inadvertently electrocuted himself!
with glazed over eyes and a writhing head,
Soon gave me to know the fowl had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, and abandoned his work,
With an unfilled stomach, he turned with a ****.
spotting me now outside, he immediately stood still,
Then the crack of my .22, and the echo from the hill.

He sprang to the ground, to his team gave a howl,
And away they all ran away with no taste for fowl.
And I heard the rooster, as they ran out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

DEC 2014 by Kirke Wise
Just a quirky little remix that I did of that famous poem. Except in chicken form.
cheryl love Dec 2016
Rudolph has noticed his belly wobbling
and so have the rest of the crew
They have noticed him hastily gobbling
extra portions of Santa's special stew.

It takes him ages to get into flight
the rest of the team have to cope though
Which is difficult especially in the dead of night
when poor Rudolph cant see which way to go.

His belly is flapping this way and that
the reindeer behind him are starting to  giggle
They dont want to hurt him and say that he is fat
But everything Ruolph's got has started to wriggle.

Dasher and Dancer have been on the mince pies
and Prancer has been sipping the sherry
Which is hilarious when he flies
a reindeer is all over the place when he's merry.

Santa calls for them to fly in a straight line
But each reindeer cant keep a straight face
each of them has been knocking back the wine
not by the bottle I might add, by the case!

Each reindeer has now started to feel sick
Santa is now suspicious and thinks it is weird
for now he has started to discreetly pick
the tiny bits of carrots out of his beard.

They pull over and Santa is now not amused
he too feels hung over and has had enough
Rudolph chest feels as though it is bruised
from eating and drinking all that stuff.
Anais Vionet Dec 2021
Christmas, Yuletide, Noël, Nativity, Saint Nicholas, Mary, Prancer,
Santa, Elves, Yule Log, Eggnog, Reindeer, Turkey, Presents, children,
Birthday, Bells, Jesus, pumpkin pie, Navidad, Kriss Kringle, Dasher
Ornaments, stockings, sugarplums, Holidays, caroling, gifts, Comet
Christmas Eve, Scrooge, cranberry sauce, sleigh bells, Rudolph,
Christmas lights, Cinnamon Apple spice cider, wassail, Angels, list,
Christmas tree, Blitzen, Mrs. Claus, tinsel, jolly, snowflake, Dancer,
Blitzen, North Pole, snowman, wreath, candy cane, gingerbread,
Merry Christmas!
What did I forget?
Emily B Mar 2016
If you should chance to find me gone
absent from spinning wheel and loom
dasher idle in the butter churn

If you survey the fields and hills
to find me not at work in the garden
and not returning from the spring

If you should look around to find
sewing cast aside
dishes strewn unwashed on the hearth

It could be

     I've wandered off alone down to the river

     to lose myself in the cool flow.
getting ready to go back to Boone's Fort on the Kentucky River.
Emily B Apr 2016
Basket of resource books and herbs is in the car.
2. Basket of sewing tools and knitting needles is packed with an item or two to stitch.
3. One cast iron *** is ready to go. Two more in the process of burning off and seasoning.
4. Linen caps and kerchiefs are starched. Clothes are laid out.
5. Pack basket is full of pottery and utensils. Need to ask the woodworker if he will make me a lid and dasher for the butrer churn.
6. Copper kettle is filled with a bag of seasoned walnuts and two tin skilkets.
7. Still working on ingredients for the larder. Storing them in period appropriate containers is a puzzle.
8. Spinning wheel is excited for the new adventure. She said bring plenty of roving.
Insertnamehere Dec 2020
All hail the dragonfly, master of the sky.
Master of the swamp.
Master of it's prey, be it orange, white or grey.
Perhaps the common whitetail, zooming all about,would choose to dress in the blues and hues of the dasher and wallow in the clout.

Don't mistake him for the damselfly, he'd rather die, he wouldn't be seen like that.
Even through the magnificence of his multifaceted eye.

All that structural coloration makes him look like a Christmas decoration.

All hail the dragonfly, master of the sky.
Master of the swamp.
Master of it's prey, I'll hail it each and every day.
Robin Carretti Apr 2018
The 14th day of the month
Gold exquisite birth

Worth   $ * % ++ =

A ton of Gold  & $$$
See you in September
He's 24 karat gold I phone
(Bee sting gold weight
all new)
-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -  
My 14 karat gold toilet
Such a rarity very few
only wants to flush you

Just hush the crush go posh
to lush hell get ya gush
Around the mulberry bush

A dasher, not the slasher
Shabby chic selling her
goods of trash to the
pusher
She lights up like the
refrigerator he's the

"Jumping Jack Flash"
Rolling Stones
Brown sugar turned
14 karat gold
*     *     *     *     *     *
Gold turned to sugar
Raw
Drinking her lips
Screwdriver
Overly Folger the dirt
warm brown dew
Change me to gold new
Beyond any redeemable
Hope inside gold-finger
folder

The Grecian Islands robe
The thousand island
of dressings
Seance 14 karat globe
confessing
14 karat shined on
She schemed him on
She tied him in like
rope
All the judgment days
Just one day bring on
hope
Honesty is the best
rivalry her gold you will
get linked to her sanity

How there pledging went out
But she saw something of
purity
-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -
Too much gold on her door
Let's be "Planet Clean"
so repugnant
Hands coming out like
green mutants
Mother in gold monster
Wicked spray repellant
So gallant goldwork
Scrollwork fine lines

Show and tell me
All his crimes
"Impersonator"
You just love to
hate her $

honey, I will
see u later
She always flushes her
loves down
the toilet

All Gold Mr. Bond
4 your eye - - only
14 karat

She's the Sire
of magnet's
She sticks like
Orange petal
blossom huh?

Oh! honey this is about
Gold  duh he
doesn't orange me
But she will never
Bee plain honey 10 times your $ $ $
as you see
14 karat always goes up in price this tile she loves to flush his spice
Breaker of toys
Dasher of dreams
Killer of joys
Puller of seams
Now Mostly Purged

Decades removed when body electric
felt tortured reverberated, and quaked
with MegaDeath repercussions tattooing,
piercing, foisting, ensnaring, drubbing

drum beat indelibly 'pon psyche NON
MEMORABLE years gone bye felled
psyche with incorporation, viz alphabet
chromed facebook, poetry soup of physio

logical symptoms i.e. clammy palms,
heart palpitation, irritable bowel
syndrome, nausea, vertigo, et cetera (aside
from above, I felt great) erupted bitta bing,
bitta band tore rent cleaving, coping and

crimping Matthew Scott Harris asunder
forcefully endearing themselves like Dasher,
Dancer, Prancer, *****, Comet, Cupid,
Dinner broke repast and Blitzen) hopscotching

(hither and yon, to and fro) from one
University to another well nigh, particularly
when paying a visit to college cafeterias,
(an unpleasant effect explaining termination

umpteen post high school institutions, I
matriculated), especially when hungry hordes
(like angry birds, long fostered century21
apes, or madding crowds of students rushing

to lunch line, swelling sea of Muslims, or
Christian crusades of yore - NO INTENT
TO INSULT belief, credo, dogma, et cetera)
practically stampeding their way en route

to the Hajj) clamored to be fed sustenance,
or spiritual succor respectively, but no sooner
did this then rather bony gluteus maximus
became situated at table (often whereby quick

exit could be made in predictable panic stricken
outcome pierced and hammered me with gut
wrenching agony), the medley of organic
constriction of throat re: named asphyxiation,

furiously pounding ma poor heart, churning
out hormonal adrenaline secretion, sans flight
or fight, strong sensation, qua regurgitation
(despite likelihood my bowels recently purged,

per diarrhea courtesy of irritable gastrointestinal
stress), disallowed even one morsel to appease
thine palette, essentially salad days, whereat
never did this liberal minded scrivener get

trampled underfoot, but he experienced
physical manifestations entailing great
discomfort probably on par with devout
pilgrimage to holy shrine of Mecca whar wren

twittering within labyrinth of this mortal
being i.e. christened Matthew Scott Harris,
hid unseen live, googly-eyed, earth-linked,
mailer daemons resounded with flickr, Go

Daddy, hulu, instagramming, joyous, kick
starter, pinterest ting, shutterfly ying, snap
chatting, tinder quiet riot chorus of their
unheard whatsapp penning yahoo kindling

the trip wire of ****** perspiration, laceration
(stinging tips of metallic caw, pelting whipping,
and zinging reflexively upon me body electric
weighed down with glow ball chain) induced

hallucination prodding sphincter muscle to go
into overdrive vis a vis via defecation, (irritable
bowel ran dire re:yah rampant) creating one
wasted wreck of a human abomination kept

in check sum i.e. sigma notation from unsuspecting
observer, herewith ends general figurative broad-
brush stroke pertaining to collective soul asylum
wrenching episodes does injustice to panic attacks.
Ron Sanders Jan 2020
I AM THE WEDGE

O blackguard or fellow. Arise!
Nay.
Bridge that light that bridges all.
Nay! Peace…
What peace!
In sleep’s blue rictus, borne naked, supine—I am…roused.
Opine!
I exhort ye:  know thy fine.
Be bold or benign, be ****** or divine.
But know thy fine.
Exhort? Harbinger:  we are One!
Ye are cloven! And these be your bridges:
Worms.
Sss!
Maggots.
Sss!
Bigots, charlatans, sycophants, thieves…
Ignominious leeches all!
Ssssss! Ssssss! Ssssss!
Yes, yes, yes—ye art ethos without sinew,
Eloquence without spine, witting captives of World’s design.
Ye are carnal, mundane:  ye are sane, sane, sane—
Sane beyond redemption, sane beyond profane!
Prithee peep, prostrate. Now behold:  ye are Mine.
O piercer of nights!
I am he.
O dasher of dreams!
I am he.
Truther! Augur!
I am, I am.
I am all ye allege.
Be still!
Nay. I am the wedge.
And ye shall labor and love with accountability!
Ye who menace the frail shall burn.
Sss!
Ye who lie with same shall burn.
Sssss!
Ye thick, arrogant, groping,
Proliferating plumes of flesh…
All conformists shall burn! And burn and burn
And burn afresh. Within thine own World, where Virtue rots—
Miscarried, misnamed, unrealized, unborn—Nay!
Do not cosset possessions, nor flatter the beast!
They are myth, they are illusion. They are soulless.
It is not death…it is soullessness I scorn.
O be caring. O be kind.
That one egg might bind, all sons must bleed.
Womb and grave lie equidistant.
******, madness, sorrow, sickness, are seed.
And I am fecund.
O Life!
Hypocrites.
Ah Love!
Hypocrites!
Peace! Peace!
Hypocrites all! Blind as cadavers are ye,
Running in lockstep, sniffing thy self-serving,
Snuffling peers’ rears; disdaining the night,
Succumbing to light. And I? I?
I am Neutral. I am Gray.
Then name thy vein.
I am he who severs One; soldier’s specter, specter’s son.
Of faith and compassion mine fibers art wrung.
Ye living die a thousand deaths, yet remain in arrears.
Let thy live corpses lie a low while longer.
Sweet coma, black drug—
Beware thy Pale Master’s tongue!
Blasphemer! Vigilante!
Vengeance is poetry. Vigilance is mine.
I am he who doth sunder, to center from edge.
Thou art…Comeuppance!
I am the wedge.
And this blade ye ride be thine own design!
O Sunlight save us!
Save? To cling to the light, heaping woe upon woe,
Forever hurtling downward, smashed outright, yet still crawling?
Broken beggars bleeding, drowning heartless, gutless…
To, on dying’s cue, lift thy shattered fingers in brine
And be born anew?
Assassin, then!
Thy logic is *******. Have the greatness to be mute,
Suffering seaward, to that brave expanse where all salts art borne.
But we—
Unwitting? Never be!
The same tide shall return for ye:
Aweigh, forlorn, into the ravening
Tempest torn; a million billion testaments—
Defrauder!
Am I? Consider the beast:  electric pastors preaching,
Merchants plump, in line, beseeching.
Still ye puppets slumber, too rife to number,
Too fay to vie; strutting for thy hollow “Maker’s” eye.
Whirling, jumping, twirling, pumping;
******* random shapes and shadows,
Prancing in tandem, dancing solely to die.
Nay. I am the wedge, both hawk and dove;
Neither This nor That, neither Either nor Each.
Descending, I rise, thy facade to breach,
Mine soul well-bled of light’s lovely lies.
To the vortex, then! From one whose essence
Waives assimilation.
No grace! No peace shall ye posers reap!
Lash thine ears, thine eyes—Run, lemmings! Leap!
Preen thy prettified husks, let Inspiration go!
Or rip out thy roots and…Grow!
Sacrilege! Make public thy shame!
Shame? Shame? Ah…Ash, conceive us!
Brief spirit cede, sweet Flame relieve us,
Sunlight leave us lie.
May ye ****** and ye wicked
Fall to thy knees and cry.
Through gates of naught I lead ye,
Bleak day, bright night, precede ye.
Butcher!
There is black! And there is white!
Between extremes lies only gray.
Nay!
Said stain bleeds left and right:  less black, less white,
On that stage too deep to fathom,
One dapple distant, one ripple wide.
Outrageous!
’Twixt solace and horror,’tween torment and balm,
There ye will find me, in rages of calm.
The wise man hath his discipline, the lunatic his ledge.
And I? I am he who doth sever, I am he who doth cleave.
I am the wedge.




(Sorry about the missing italics and indents. I don't run this site.)

Copyright 2019
contact Ron Sanders at:

ronsandersartofprose(at)yahoo(dot)com
Vincent Singer Sep 2018
When I step outside the
Air’s thick like molasses,

The asphalt of our driveway
Appears to melt and steam
And be this sort of semi-liquid,

I half expect my dad’s car to
Get stuck as he’s pulling out for
Work, but he leaves without
Any lasting imprint,

I wave goodbye and walk back
To the garage for my bike,

Every plant and animal
Is lush and thriving
At this time, basking in
The conditions,

The grass is thick like buffalo fur,
And near the lakes, cattail springs up
Like hormonal teenagers,

Blue Dasher dragonflies
Hunt mosquitoes on
Purple Loosestrife,

Fox Squirrels burrow
Maple Seed inside of
Quaking Aspens,

Rhubarb grows wild beneath
Fields of electrical lines,





I spend these days riding down
The Bass Ponds hill to throw
Molotov Cocktails made from
Mini bottles and lawnmower
Gas,

I go to the Mall of America and toss
Orange Julius onto W.W.E conventions,

I stare at a man who wears a Vietnam veterans
Hat and smokes a cigarillo inside of McDonalds,
Threatening to shoot everyone inside,

I break into my old middle school and
Hoist chairs onto the desks like a poltergeist,

I am in baseball tournaments
And pick-up basketball games,

I swim in lakes, rivers and ***** ponds,

I impersonate mothers over the
Phone when my friends get caught
Stealing and the owner wants to handle
It without the authorities,

I stand on a pedestrian bridge
And spit on cars that are caught
In evening traffic,

I hear Cricket frogs howling for
Their lover as the summer quiets,

I watch the sundown string
Out like warm caramel,

The end to this long strand
Of sunset is the nighttime,

When the moon and stars
Flicker into distant vibrancy,

Where coolness settles in, and
Headlights become necessary,

I return home to see the driveway
As a pitch black mass without a car,

So I go inside, take a shower, and
Remember when I used to swim into
Bathtub laboratories as a child,

When I rose to the top I saw my mom
Blurred because of the shower door, sitting
On the toilet with a book in her hand,

She made sure to laugh when I laughed,
And always asked what I discovered
While on my journey down below,

I made sure to pretend that one of
My toys was the stolen linchpin
To some world-destroying device
That would have put our lives in
Jeopardy,  

I haven’t taken a bath since she died,
So when I leave the shower I know she
Won’t be there and I know the world
Is in danger, but I’m not sure if he is
Back yet, so I tiptoe to the top of the
Stairs in my towel and listen for him,

After getting dressed I make a
Grilled cheese and eat it with
Potato chips,

I sit on the head of the couch
So my peripherals will catch
Any signs from the street,

The night is getting old and
The cars driving by become
Few and far between,

Nearly every pair of headlights
I see is either from a semi-truck
Or squad car,

At this point I decide to stand outside,
Thinking that if I’m out there I’ll act
As a sort of magnet,  




By my front door I see moths become
Icarus, fluttering too close to the porch
Light, soon to be cracked by their fusion
To the bulb,

I am pacing now and imagine
Him nodding off on his barstool,
Setting his sights on a third
Nightcap being served by a tender
That is desperate for tips
And isn’t worried about his drive,

He’s crashed before, and I’ve been
In the car with him when he’s
Swerved off the road,

I’ve told him to watch out and
Stop and that’s a red light more
Times than I can count,

I wave goodbye to him every
Morning as a reminder that I’m
Here and alive, and that I’m
Waiting for him to make it back
With his headlights on,  

When I finally see a car turning
Onto my street, I run toward
It so fast I feel as though there
Are wings on my back.
courtesy global warming
temperatures humid,
hot and hazy air
on par with temperature of Zaire
extreme heat advisory
issued for North Pole, where

Santa Claus and the missus
must needs be critically aware
to chuck (and/or shuck)
heavy outfit, and ride
buck naked bare
plus hydrate regularly

(as well quench
thirst of reindeer)
which magically sprout
dorsal fins doubling up
as aqua wear
powering sleigh, qua

state of the art air
row dynamically built
water borne chair
re: yet (chariot) care
fully, expertly, and favorably
designed to surf (ohm my dear)

amp pull size current
without the least bit of fear
of course gift stack
     of gift wrapped surprises
with waterproof papier
mache material just
  
     in case venerably beaded
tight as a tin drum Corvair
like sea worthy craft
doth not (thank yours truly)
unwittingly capsize nowhere
in sight of, not near

the birthplace Edvard Grieg
renown for Peer
Gynt, or far from the hall
of the mountain king,
thus Saint Nick
nonetheless cheer

ring his dis spear
reddit head lee leer
re, querulous,
and pessimistic hare
reed, but (to para
     sympathetic whims
  
     of this writer)
on a wing and prayer
finds, no harm done
   to the animals during
     making of this SPCA approved
video script, whereby;

     Dasher, Dancer, Prancer,
     *****, Comet, Cupid,
     Donner, Blitzen, and Rudolf tear
ring (at the flutter
     shy speed of light), thru
     treacherous waters (mainly

     so this poet can
     add a bit of
drama) exhibit flair
to outflank Poseidon (adventure),
and in nick of

time whip mere
rack yule esse lee to deliver
     seasons greetings
i.e. Christmas good cheer!
Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the house
Not a creature  was stirring,
not even a mouse;

The stocking 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 vision of sugar-plum
danced in their heads;

And mamma in her kerchief
and I in my cap,
Had just settle 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 the matter.

Away to the window
I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutter
and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast
of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day
to the objects below,

When, What to my wondering eyes
should appear,
But a miniature sleigh,
and eight tiny 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 courses  they came
And he whistled, and shouted,
and called them by name name:

"Now, Dasher !
Now, Dancer !
Now, Prancer and ***** !
On, Comet !
On, Cupid !
On, Donder 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 in 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 a snow;

The stump of the 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 eyes
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 ****,

And laying his finger
aside of this 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
Twas The Night before Christmas (Classic)
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY !
MERRY CHRISTMAS & HAPPY NEW YEAR !
Totally tubular fiction yup,
nevertheless I reflect
the year (arbitrarily plucked from misty past)
Santa Claus did not show up
courtesy imagination license
cruel as crippled poet pan handler
rattling his empty cup.

Though blink of time passed rather quick,
I still vividly recollect
midnight passed upon Christmas Eve
(circa December 24th, 2005)
with nary a ** ** ** from jolly Saint Nick,
nor sound of sleigh bells
no reindeer with packages he did not heave
omitting hurling gifts at 1148 Greentree Lane
as some cruel and nasty trick,
which prompted both progent

particularly youngest daughter did grieve
great disappointment absent merriment,
and surprises he would ordinarily flick,
whereby mystical magical tour would
burst with brilliance
like Jack Nimble's candlestick
spurred affirmation
analogous to brick
slamming into me noggin
in his presence to believe.

Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer,
*****, Comet, Cupid and Blitzen
ordinarily light up anticipation,
instigating ear to ear grin
(especially provoking clattering hooves)
courtesy, exponentially, and factorially
heightened expectation generated,
viz foray into dark night sky
becoming brightest visible object
creating an audible, yet pleasant din

gracefully amazing this hypothetical papa,
would ordinarily deliver merriment well nigh
accept he forgot one important stop
perhaps trouble with cloven hoofed creatures
hmm... maybe lack of of feedstock
found precious priceless lass
with downcast chin,
and teardrops falling
heavily from each eye
inducing sharp pains

within this then mister mom
once a year self anointed secret santa
analogous feeling skin
pierced with sharp pin
most times one generally
happy go lucky guy,
whose heavy sinking heart
professing love (mine) could not win
reverberated hollow grief
as if Cupid's paramour made of tin.

I tried with futility to assuage melancholy
when Shayna Punim
(Yiddish פּנים ponem, from Hebrew פָּנִים panim)
(endearment for pretty face),
she did melancholically ask why
her mood cast dark shadows
across edge of night
(evoking artificial intelligent
graphic generated augmented
computer special effect)
as webbed, wide world

within outer limits of twilight zone did spin
along axis in gulf of infinite space
with lighting speed, he would punctually fly
no explanation suitable i.e.
from Kris Kringle pinch hitter
(alias yours truly),
since no where seen heft sack
of goodies makes supreme father pitiful sight
off his pedestal like
force of gravity impossible to defy
Humpty Dumpty myth I did belie.
Breaker of toys
Dasher of dreams
Pull all apart
Right at the seams
Demanding all time
Just to cause grief
You lecherous fool
You fun stealing thief
Mine you can't have
Mine aren't for keeps
I've taken them back
Mine can't be reached
I know all your tricks
I know your true name
I know what you are
A peddler of blame
Triggered to skyhigh elevated state
when I received communiqué
courtesy management warden
christened and otherwise
known as Jackie Geiger
dated March 9, 2022.

She averred fruit fly infestation
constituted lease violation,
which could spell eviction
since said issue involving
Drosophila melanogaster
necessitated costly
exterminator intervention
subsequently delivered resultant
severe savage psychological strafing

regular panic attacks (analogous
to EF5 tornadoes
the highest category
on Enhanced Fujita Scale)
unleashed with punishing
alimentary canal winds
i.e. lower gastrointestinal expulsions,
which prescription medication
ineffective to subdue.

Suddenly relatively short lived respite
abruptly ended moderate freedom
feeling diabolically tortured
returned with a vengeance
measuring reprieve in months
and years removed
when body electric
felt tortured reverberated, and quaked
with repercussions...tattooing, piercing,
ensnaring... drubbing drum beat indelibly

'pon psyche NON MEMORABLE years
gone bye felled psyche with incorporation,
viz alphabet facebook, poetrysoup of
physiological symptoms i.e. clammy
palms, heart palpitation, irritable bowel
syndrome, nausea, vertigo,
et cetera (aside
from above, I felt great)
erupted bitta bing,
bitta band tore rent cleaving, coping and

crimping Master scribe
harnesses words as
Zeus employs thunder
forcefully endearing themselves like Dasher,
Dancer, Prancer, *****, Comet, Cupid,
Donner and Blitzen) hopscotching
(hither and yon,
to and fro) from one
University to another
well nigh, particularly
when paying a visit
to college cafeterias,
(an unpleasant effect

explaining abrupt termination
umpteen post
high school institutions,
I matriculated), especially
when hungry hordes
(like angry twittering birds,
long fostered century21
apes, or madding crowds
of students rushing
to lunch line for their seconds

analogous to swelling sea of
crusaders of yore - practically
stampeding their way
clamoring to be fed sustenance
or spiritual succor respectively,
but no sooner did this then
rather bony gluteus maximus
became situated at table
(often whereby quick
exit could be made

in predictable panic stricken
outcome pierced and
hammered me with gut
wrenching mental agony),
the medley of organic
constriction of throat
re: named asphyxiation,
furiously pounding
ma poor heart, churning
out hormonal adrenaline.

— The End —