Ho, Ho, Ho Good Neighbours, I’m back with another quick blahg before Christmas. I know I said I probably wouldn’t get around to one but I had an idea yesterday and instead of letting that idea die of loneliness, I’m acting on it. 
In my previous blahg, THE TWO AND TEN…A CHRISTMAS GIFT EXCHANGE, I presented my newest short story that is also the title of the blahg. In this current blahg, I decided to revisit some old Christmas poems that I have written over the years. Many of these are over 30 years old. Others are bizarre, I have to admit, but I’ll present them as written. In between, I’ll post some pictures of our Christmas decorations this year.
First up is a poem I wrote on December 4, 1985. I was playing around a lot with style and indentations back then. I’ll present it as written:
CHRISTMAS IN ATLANTIC CITY
Craps! – You lose!
I’ve never been
to Atlantic City;
never been
to Vegas;
never seen
the big names in lights
but
I’ve woken on Christmas day
and found what I’ve needed
dancing on our tree
That last line speaks of a Christmas Tree. Below are two pictures of our tree this year. The first has the starburst tree topper and the second has the newly purchased star that is the exact same as one we used to have:
This next poem was published on December 20, 1985. Again, I was experimenting with margins and design. Make your own conjecture what the symbolism and meaning was of the poem:
CHRISTMAS IN THE ASYLUM
They’ve gone out
and pulled down
the Christmas Star –
–said they wanted to know…
needed to know—
–and so it’s all empty up there now.
They’ve gone about
and messed it all up
and so the whole day’s ruined
but they contend
the Star had nothing to do with it.
Christmas is a lot more
than that old satellite
and we’ll all find out
as soon as they’re finished tossing away
the wrapping;
we’ll find out
and admit to ourselves
the gift is still there inside
and we don’t really mind
getting the same thing
every year…
but we wish we knew how
to use it.
The reference to the star prompts me to post a picture of our tree in 2020 when our old five pointed star was stilled nestled at the top:
The next Christmas poem, was actually featured in a blahg I published on December 1, 2011 with the title, DAVID LETTERMAN BROKE MY COOKIE. The poem was originally written on December 3, 1986 and deserves a reprint.
dear Santa
I was maybe nine
when my parents
up and told me
there’s no Santa Claus
and I suspected
at the time
that they weren’t
bein’ truthful ‘bout that
but now
I’m pretty sure
they were
mistaken
‘cause I saw old Nick
the other day
at the mall
and I can’t help wonderin’
if he knows
parents are tryin’
to suppress
his existence
all over
and why is that?
what have parents got
against Santa?
ya know it just might be
that Nick’s too powerful
fer the average parent
‘cause all year long
moms and dads
try to discipline
their kids
without success
but ya mention
Santa
anywhere near Christmas
and control is
immediately established
and maybe that’s it!
maybe parents
get their egos bruised
by the idea
of some
white bearded old goat
havin’ more clout
than them
and maybe that’s why
after eight or nine years
the kids are told
this lie
about St. Nicholas
bein’ a myth
so’s parents can say
“LISTEN UP,
WE’RE THE BOSS.
THERE’S NO SANTA
JUST US
AND YOU EITHER
LIKE IT
OR LUMP IT!”
but I’m not sayin’
I disagree with
this method
‘cause at some point
ya gotta outgrow
the need for Santa Claus
and ya gotta depend
on the family
and what they can do
fer ya
and ya’ll be
a better person
more rounded
not in the gut
like Santa
but in yer outlook
sure, the method’s okay
but what if
ya reversed the order
and said right off
right at birth
“KID YOU’RE GONNA HEAR A LOT
ABOUT THIS
SANTA CLAUS
BUT DON’T BELIEVE IT.
WE’RE THE ONES
YOU HAVE TO RESPECT.
WE’RE THE ONES
WHO ARE
LOOKING OUT FOR YOU.”
and maybe later
when the kids are older
and have lost
all faith
in mankind
and have given up
on anything magical
ya set ‘em straight
‘bout Nick
ya tell ‘em
ya lied
and there really is
this St. Nicholas guy
and he’s alright
and as long as
they believe in him
they’ll be alright too
and wouldn’t it be easier
that way?
wouldn’t it be nicer
to know
ya haven’t ruined
yer kid’s entire life?
sure tell ‘em ‘bout Santa
and they’ll pass the word
and they’ll believe
and behave
and ya’ll have
no more problems
in discipline
if ya use Nick’s name
‘cept maybe ‘round Easter
when his moniker
brings no pull
whatsoever
I guess, because there was a reference to Santa, I can post some of my yard decorations that feature many Santas:
The following poem was also written in 1986, on December 23rd:
about Xmas
now I don’t expect
ya’ll get the meaning
of that
till sometime
in mid-july
and ya’ll be sittin’
in the cab
of a half ton truck
stopped at a railroad crossin’
and ya’ll look up
at that big X-sign
and ya’ll remember
mid-december
in yer winter parka
at the Kmart checkout
behind someone searchin’
through her purse
fer the correct change
I have no symbolic pictures to go along with that one but at least you know now why it’s called Xmas. Let me post a picture of my mantel ornaments display instead. Click on any of the pictures in this blahg to get a bigger view and to zoom in.
Six years would pass before I would write another Christmas poem. This one was penned on December 21, 1992:
A Christmas entertainment
in da few days before Christmas I realize
dere’s a soft front tire
(on my wife’s car)
dat a book store’s not da place
fer last minute shoppers
with alphabetized sections not
dat holidays aren’t holly days
‘cause da nurseries are out
dat ‘tis da season of Xmas spirit
is full of mean spirited
‘cept da older lady
who whispered “jewellery counter”
in my ear
at da end of a thirty person ‘cash only’ line
in Kmart
I guess I really liked Kmart back then because it gets referenced twice. Here’s my last photo I’ll post for Christmas this year. Here are all of our Nutcrackers (although I think I’ve added at least one more since this photo was taken):
My Christmas poetry output definitely slowed down as I entered the 1990s. The last holiday themed poem was written December 20, 1995. Jeanette and I had been married eight years and we had two children by Christmas 1995. I guess I was busy with other things. That was definitely the inspiration for this poem
the miracle
I don’t believe the birth was the miracle
rather the extension of family
from couple to couple plus
might be the cause for celebration
wrapped in swaddling
dressed in disposable
indispensable
indisputable
those wise men
giving council perhaps
this is how you were
this is how you will be
no more you and him or you and her
now mother and father ad infinitum
this christmastide now reviewing the nativity
and casting credence to a bearded man
who might be a throwback to the magi
I wonder if mary and joseph had only known
they might have taken more time for themselves
en route to bethlehem
I thought that would be the last poem but I decided to write a new one, today, December 22, 2025.
this one day
this one day
not twelve
comes
like a freight train
or a sleigh ride
in keeping with the season
softly creeping
or ever-present
until ‘what Christmas, already?’
utters the inevitability
decorated with glitter and tinsel
adorned with words not heard at other times
yule, nativity, frankincense and myrrh,
Scrooge, Grinch, Santa
pick your embodiment
yet there’s something else
good will
good intentions
glad tidings
a wrapping for the masses
this one day
crammed with holy holy holy
or holly holly holly
jingling over a blanket of white
or green in different hemispheres
welcomes most
invites the least
celebrates with feast
this one day
no sharper or gentler than others
is gone too soon
with all the potential
leaving hopes or dashed dreams
but anticipation of better days
for another day
one more day
if not once again
this one day
Have I still got it or what? That’s my self-inflation for today. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year if you celebrate it. If not, take it in the spirit it’s offered.
Tags: Christmas, False Ducks, Poetry, Scott Henderson