Post your Christmas poems (new or used) here,

Happy Christmas, Hanukah or what ever celebration is yours.

Sinister Christmas

He's gauche,
a leftie and wrapping paper
does not cooperate.
The colourful rolls wrestle,
conspiring secretly
to unroll when he least expects it.

Scissors, stubborn in his
gawky grip, revolt.
The tape gives viscous kisses
where it shouldn't
and won't stick where he wants.

The festive corners are not crisp,
the paper-wastage appalling
but he tries again
and again
until the pile is complete
and I promise
next year
we'll use cloth bags instead.

Dr. Epstein

He'll light the menora tomorrow night.
The grandkids will get their chocolate gelt.
Sadie will fry her latkes in oil
she'll serve to all with sour cream.

However, today at twelve-fifteen,
nervous expectant mothers can wait
for a while to hear Dr. Epstein's
words of advice in South Orange, New Jersey.

He brakes the Buick for one more light,
a moment enough to pray and give thanks
for the name, rank, and serial number
on dog tags from one Joseph O'Leary,

his gift for Franz when he came to the States
he'll still be wearing, when home at sunset
he'll give the blessing and praise his Sadie
for all the wonderful things that she does.

"Soon will be Christmas Eve for my friend,"
thought Franz who recalls prayers that were said
at Dachau when a C-ration tin
of beef stew wasn't soup water thin,

and a medic poured holy water for him
from his canteen that tasted better
than the Pabst Blue Ribbon draft he’ll have
where rounds for the faithful are on the house,

and everyone knows the service by now,
held once a year for working stiffs,
an obstetrician, and anyone else
who enters "O'Leary's Bar & Grill"

as Joe and the good Doctor Frankie shout
at the top of their lungs, raising their beer,
so half of Newark, New Jersey will hear:
"L'Chaim! L'Chaim! L'Chaim!"

Dredged it up from the Red and Green Lagoon.

Christmas Ghazal

Comes the holiday we get hung on the holly time
green in between the tinsel we nog us a holly time

build a snowman doot doot rolled in the merry cold
carrot for a nose and no coal bro just a jolly time

hang up the stocking the pleasantly pleasant warm
cocoa and marshmallow peppermint train the folly time

trapped in the stores the parking wars Black Friday
smackdown off the rack town what a hollow time

Christmas of my youth the Hanukah bush eggrolls
Lawrence of Arabia matinee Holy Land hallowed time

All the dreams that passed the in-betweens red
and melting luminous scene of snow and golly, time.

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the gutter
nothing was heard
not even a mutter.

A drunk Santa was slumped
on a bench fast asleep
his hands on his tackle
dreaming of sheep.

Then out in the street
there arose such a clunk
the crashing of bottles
had awaken the drunk.

He sprang to his feet
but his legs were like lead
so he fell on his arse
and broke wind instead.

As he staggered away
somebody stammered
he's nice enough sober
but not when he's hammered.

Christmas Tree Story

Once there weren't the gingerbread
Tudor houses topped with snow
on Cedar Street, the kids asleep,
dreaming something Christmas Eve
before the mayhem starts at dawn,
the gift wrap and the tinsel torn,
Part A's in hand, where's Part B?
a little cross he'll gladly bear,
he thought while in his easy chair,

recalling Sister Hildegard's
St. Boniface's first grade class,
construction paper on his desk
and in one hand a No. 2
lead pencil Sister gave to him
with which he drew an outline of
a Christmas tree he colored in.

What better gift for Momma then
to Scotch tape on the wall
where he, instead of looking up
after waking up at dawn,
saw heaven on the floor,
a Radio Flyer shining red
from Mr. Swatko's Re-sale Store.

And then he thought, all in all,
that Christmas day a blessed one,
his mother on the wagon bed
and he there sitting on her lap,
her yellow robe as soft as straw,
hot cocoa nearby in a mug,
and though there was no morning Joe
his mother Mary smiled at him
and what a Christmas tree should be
he Scotch taped on the wall.