New Year's Resolutions (Every Year's the Same)

How many years have I made a plan?
Many I believe.
Once more the lie is writ upon my face.

With pen in hand, I know I can
Write the list to decieve
Myself. The resolutions' space!

I am a pillar for one day's span,
That's long as I achieve
The new year's goals before disgrace.

By year's day two, resolve has ran
Its course, and how I grieve
My lack of willpower in this case.

bummy

Christmas Wind

Cold December's wind.
Christmas riding in on winds
Bitter from the north.

bummy

The Team

Lonely and Christmas.
The double-edged sword cuts deep.
They make a great team.

bummy

Cold Christmas

Callused Winter's night
Christmas Eve should warm with Love.
Icy Loneliness.

bummy

Is There a Santa Claus? (in terza rima)

"Hurry!  Run!  He's over there! It's Santa Claus!"
"Fools," an old man said with nose crooked bent
"Forget those notions.  Silly oooo's and awww's."

Beth stared at him, the foolish man with mean glint
In his cross-eyed look. She wanted to say--
But didn't dare, "You're such a mean old gent."

Instead she said, "But Santa's here today."
She felt it true and said without a doubt,
"You're so mean I bet Santa don't play

"On your roof. You're a goofy old lout!"
His smile left fast; she'd said too much.
He looked like a brat with silly old pout.

Then Santa stood behind her, reached to clutch
Her shoulder with one huge callused hand.
"Don't pay him no mind, don't listen to such.

"I'm as real as you make me in innocent glee,
"I'm as real to you as you are to me."

bummy

Ballad of the Christmas Tree

I watched the tree come tumbling down,
Climbed by three black cats,
Scratching post ignored, they chose
Our tree, those damn three brats!

Candy canes lay dead on the floor,
just corpses, red and white.
Balls unbroken rolled around,
Much to the cats' delight.

Silver tinsel did catch one
Garland's gold another.
Oh, how I'd love a ball of twine
Just for her fat black brother!

Those balls that broke, sounded like
Poppers in the night.
The babies cackled at the tree,
No mercy at my plight.

The wife would soon be home with gifts
To hide until the hour
Santa would slide down--
And, my, he would be sour!

I got the babies from the glass
Of all those broken balls.
I got the broomstick after cats,
Chased them down the halls.

The babies clapped, unhidden glee,
As each escaped my broom.
I'd not be beat by three black rogues;
I'd lock them in a room.

I closed the bedroom door and smiled,
Three kitties locked away.
I heard the front door open then
Demented cry of "Hey!"

I mustered only foolish look,
As she surveyed the mess.
One angry woman glared at me,
Her gaze was not to bless.

The babies laughed, and so did I.
She tossed the gifts aside.
I tried to tell her what transpired.
I swallowed my last pride.

Her look of dismayed anger fell,
As I told the lurid tale
Of her black cats I'd like to kill.
I left out no detail.

We boxed the tree while coffee made,
Our coming Christmas shot.
We laughed like children--don't happen much--
And gave the gifts she'd bought.

The babies tore and ripped and shredded,
And Christmas Eve felt grand.
No tree, no lights, but heartfelt love
Passed from hand to hand.

bummy

Salad Can Be Fun

Lettace green, crisp as winter's ice,
Green onions, now chop 'em nice.
Carrots're matchstick. Just toss 'em in.
The start of color, rich as sin.

We've orange and tainted-white green,
We need some red. Somebody seen
Those damn lil raddishs? Where'd they go?
Easy now, slice 'em up slow.

Grab that celery; we need the crunch.
Oh come on, Dear, cut up a bunch.
I think we need some sweet like you.
That red delicious apple just might do.

Grab the sprouts, I'll grate the cheese.
We'll top this thing off with ease.
Now where's the dressing? Ready to eat.
Forgot? The store's two blocks, ya best beat feet.

bummy