Lower the pinãta. Bring the party to a halt.
Cease your roar of protest, for I’m not the one at fault
for curbing your frivolity and quashing all our fun.
If you need a scapegoat, Father Christmas is the one
who turned Rudolph out to pasture and retired his sleigh to blocks.
while Gaea, Christ and Santa Claus have some major talks.
The Christ child won’t be crowned this year. The elves are on vacation.
Santa will stay a figment of your imagination.
The only Santas left are those “Ho ho” ing for their wages.
St. Nicholas gave up the ghost when we put kids in cages.
He sold off Donner and Blitzen when we turned our backs
on nature’s other creatures: the elephants and yaks.
All the endangered creatures in the forest and the seas,
those crippled by pollution, global warming and disease.
He closed up his workshop as we squandered nature’s gifts,
deserted the North Pole as the glaciers formed their rifts.
Now bad boys won’t get presents and, alas, the good ones either.
We’re being banished to our rooms while nature takes a breather.
Will Christmas come another year? I guess we’ll wait and see.
Next year will we be perched on or turned over Santa’s knee?
Click on photos to enlarge.
Yolanda tells me that the name for this little succulent flower in Mexico is “pistãnas de mi suegra” Which means “the eyelashes of my mother-in-law!” Ha. Much more colorful than “sun rose.” This bee doesn’t care what we call them, however.
For Cee’s FOTD
Though I applaud your intellect, your word-usage and clarity,
I’m taking steps to deal with your outlandish temerity.
Since I sincerely hold that obscure words should be panned,
hereby, I proclaim that such smug words will be banned.
So words like “impignorate”—found in no sane vocabulary
hereafter will be turned in to the lexicon constabulary!
Thanksgiving with the Neighbors
Rendered farctate by turkey and gravy and dressing,
I overindulged, I am hereby confessing.
When they pressed more upon me, I didn’t demur.
I ate all the turkey that I could endure,
but then when they asked if I’d have a bit more,
although I was already stuffed to the core,
I said, “Maybe a little,” and with no compassion,
they piled on potatoes in an equal fashion.
More gravy, cranberries and more candied yam,
and lest they discriminate, a bit more ham.
So in that yearly paradox, they proceeded to stuff
first the turkey, then me, until I’d had enough.
And though I declared I was ready to burst,
when they brought out the pie, although I had rehearsed,
“None for me,” in my head, when they asked, “mince or peach?”
I’m embarrassed to say that I had one of each!
Then I lay on the floor and simply digested
as some guests told stories that other guests bested.
But since I had already been over-fested,
I admit my attention was under-invested.
I tried to moan silently, but fear I failed.
In the end, I complained and I groaned and I wailed.
Yet my friends showed no mercy, but proceeded to laugh
and inquire if I’d rather have caf or decaf!
Then they rolled me next door to my own waiting bed,
where I passed half the night feeling overly-fed.
But by the the next morning, I was ready for toast
some bacon and eggs and a lovely French roast.
And I was bemoaning when time came for lunch
that there were no leftovers on which to munch—
No turkey and stuffing. No leftover pie,
so I had to make do with carry-out Thai.
For Cee’s FOTD
Love is not contractual. It is not trite or buyable.
It’s not dependent on reason to render it as viable.
It depends on qualities more visceral than seeable—
makes one’s considerations more youable than meeable.
In its beginning stages, love may seem aleatory
as though the price of love is to squirm in purgatory.
Waiting by the telephone, in an abject state,
love wonders, “Will or won’t he ask me for a date?”
But this abject terror sometimes gives way to calm
as our object of affection furnishes the balm
that soothes our rash and fearful hopes and turns them to reality,
refining hopeful crushes into mutual love’s finality.
True love is always waiting to drop the other shoe
as “Will he? Will she? Dare we?” finally gives way to “I do.”