Guest Blog: Do You Hear What I Hear? by Jada Solaita

Courtesy: keanxchange.com

My guest blogger today is Jada Solaita, an upcoming poet. Jada has drafted a really touching poem about a young girl who feverishly awaits the visit of Santa Claus in the still of the night.

All was quite in the little house,

You couldn't even hear the sound of a mouse

Christmas was coming,

It would soon be here

and so would Santa with eight flying reindeer

I woke with a jolt,

"Did you hear that?"

I said, as I rubbed the fur of my small cat

I wanted to know what was the matter?

What could be causing all that clatter?

I rose from bed, with the speed of light

I couldn't let Santa get out of sight

I ran down the stairs as quick as can be

But all that was there were just presents

He had left under our tree

How could I miss him,

How could it be?

How fast can an old man

With eight reindeer flee?

I looked around sadly seeing just crumbs on a plate

I must have come down a little too late

But, soon my heart filled with a blossom of glee

As I saw a small note addressed directly to me

It was just lying there next to the tree

It said, "Thank you for the cookies and milk,

Now go look in your stocking made of silk"

I looked inside and what did I see?

A tiny baby doll just for me.

A faint little jingle I heard from afar

Merry Christmas, Santa where ever you are

Author’s Bio

As an aspiring writer and poet I get my inspiration to write through life lessons. Things that have happen to me in my past or things I hope for in the future.

Thank you for allowing me to share my love of writing with others.

— Jada Solaita

~GreenEyedGirl~

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Guest Blog: A Little Christmas Fun by Regina Puckett

I requested for Christmas poems from guest bloggers and here’s the first one up by author and poet, Regina Puckett. It’s a short poem that touches on about everything the season stands for. Thanks, Regina for giving this poem to the world!

Courtesy: missmadeblog.com

Across the world there are eager girls and boys

Waiting for Santa’s arrival with his bag of toys

Long lists scribbled, letters written, stamped and mailed

Cookies baked, milk poured and stockings carefully nailed

Mothers kiss and gently tuck each and every child into bed

Leaving them with dreams of Christmas frolicking in their head

Out in the crisp December air Santa soars through the sky

Twinkling stars and the man on the moon waves as he flies by

Because this one day of every year the entire world becomes one

Wishing for peace on world, goodwill to all men and a little Christmas fun

Author's Bio
Regina Puckett is an award nominated author for her short story, Balloon Wishes.

Author Regina Puckett

Borrowed Wings, has received the Children's Literary Classics Seal of Approval.

Memories won first place in the 1st WSBR International Poetry Contest. This poem may be found in her book of poetry, Tilting at Windmills and Words.

Slowly Drowning won second place in the 3rd WSBR International Poetry Contest. This poem may be found in her poetry book, My Words into the Beyond.

Sir Galahad Comes to the Rescue won third place in the 3rd WSBR International Poetry Contest. This poem may be found in her book of poetry, Ramblings and Dreams.

She has been writing for over forty-five years. She lives in Tennessee with her husband of over forty years. She has two grown daughters and four grandchildren.

She writes sweet romances, horror, inspirational, picture books and poetry. There are several projects in various stages of completion and there are always characters and stories waiting for their chance to finally get out of her head and onto paper.

Books by Regina Puckett

Please come and visit me at 

facebook.com/regina.puckett1
http://reginapuckettsbooks.weebly.com/index.html
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/154116.Regina_Puckett
https://twitter.com/ReginaPucket

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• A conversation with author, Regina Puckett
• Gift for Sisters - Original Family Poetry, Matted Mounted 8 x 10s
• Authors In The Limelight

Ghetto Santa

This was trending on Twitter and I thought I could recreate a Ghetto Santa's thoughts in a poem. And what if the ghetto in question is Nigerian?
       Much of the stuff you find in this line of poetry are highly overrated but I've tried to be true to the Nigerian setting as much as I possibly can.

Photo: mediamilitia.com

          Yo kid! You got your money? 'Cause this Santa ain't freebie.
          Holla at your momma make sure she got the right ticket.
          I like your style, your class but maybe I'll whack the bee's knees.
          Lose the cunt face, eh. Got no love for Santa Clause, midget?
          Say, it's Christmas that's why we're here to make some cool money.
          You came to laugh, dance and clap your hands. I came to get paid.
          Now that we understand each other, don't fight the feeling.
          Hello, how d'you do? I'm Santa Claus. Let's start over again.
          Let's get issues cleared from the start; I ain't here to please you.
          I'm here to do what I do, you're here to love what I do.
          Come, sit here on my laps tell me what you wish and you'll see
          That Santa can be nice like paradise if you ain't naughty.
          Don't mess up the costume, wipe your tears. We can talk things out.
          You don't gotta get all mushy. What are you all about?
          I like you kid but you gotta go. The next kid looks rich
          So, hurry chop! chop! Get the hell out o' here, little Grinch.
          
          
          
          Akpan

Childhood Christmas Wishlist

What if a grown up decides to ask Santa to fulfill all his childhood wishes?What if Santa were to grant these wishes in a literal sense as the kid this man was once conceived it and not in the light of the man the kid became?

      What do you suppose, would be the consequence of such an extraordinary treat?

Photo: masterfile.com

          I asked for it but this isn't exactly what I had in mind,

          Can you take it all back Santa, could you please, oblige?

          Mama's been dead a decade, Papa my entire life.

          I once asked that they live forever. Is that my crime?

          Ignore my childish wishes can you straddle that line?

          I can't stand ghosts, I detest spooks. Same goes for my wife.

          I wished Dad be here every Christmas but I switched sides.

          I'm immune to spirits but I will rather decline!

          

          Wait, was that MJ I saw walk into my bedroom?

          Man, did you have to bring him back too, what's up with you?

          I thought you was wise Santa. Couldn't you take a cue?

          There's my favorite childhood jacket, you brought it back, fool.

          I'm too big to wear it and how come it smells like goop?

          You shrunk my big Bro to a 12 year old man, that's cool.

          I'm gonna kick him around a bit until he's blue.

          But you didn't have to bring back nanny. She's so cruel.

          

          Santa, is that the dish I smashed on Christmas? Come on

          I thought we went over this. Mama got a new one.

          Check this out: My childhood toy collection. Man, you rock!

          And my complete Power Rangers set. Thanks, Santa Claus.

          You shouldn't have brought my dead cat. Makes me nervous.

          It's snowing under my bed, a wish you could ignore.

          My house's hooked to Santa's sleigh, I believe I can soar.

          I see the Chapel's rooftop it's top o' the world, mom!

          

          

          

          Akpan

The Last Noel

A burglar stages a heist on the night Santa visits a home. Shots are fired but the burglar already cut the power before going in and nobody can tell for sure who's who. Problem is both Santa and burglar have a big sack and both are dressed in Santa suits. One of them is down, the other is nowhere around. Did the real Santa scramble away in fright or was it the burglar who escaped with his loot?

Here's a poem which speaks along the same line but mind the twists, it may or may not give a satisfying answer to the question but it should thrill you-there's an element of surprise.

Photo: aarp.org

          'Twas the eve of Christmas when two men with intentions

          Came sliding down our chimney for an awesome opossum.

          They came at intervals both present for the action.

          Dad was out on unspecified assignment, said mom.

          We was asleep when things went down but we heard a buzz.

          I guess one Santa hit on the other and they fought.

          Whatever it was that started the bustle, it caught.

          The two Santas royal rumbled beside the large hearth.

          

          'Twas on the night before Christmas all hell broke the peace

          And the Grinch came and stole the spirit of the season.

          One of the Santas cut the power and locked us in,

          Which of the Santas was the burglar, which was the real?

          They both wore their Santa suits, they both laughed Ho! Ho!

          When mom demanded they pull their beards they went No! No!

          Now Junior he's been basing but do not tell him so.

          He fetched his Luger and drilled in one Santa two potholes.

          

          'Twas on the morn' of Christmas by the light of the moon,

          We checked the Santa Junior picked off and mother swooned.

          Second Santa was long gone guess he was the real goon.

          But how come mama zonked out, did she love Santa too?

          I know we killed the real Santa but it wasn't noon?

          He wore beards, hard to identify without preview.

          When mom started kissing Santa, we thought she was loon.

          Junior pulled the beards, Santa became Dad. We were doomed!

          

          

          

          Akpan

          

          

Bad Santa's Sack

The last two poems have been a little more comedic in nature than horrifying. I do remember stating I was all about horror-themed Christmas poems this month. I'm coming through on that promise with this one.

What if somebody (might be a kid or adult, you fill in the gap in your own private time) stumbled upon Santa's sack but there's no Santa in sight and naturally (at least, it appears so to him) this guy decides to keep this sack and explore the content, later. Unbeknownst to him, it's the Bad Santa's sack and he ain't really Santa but Pandora in disguise.

Photo: 123rf.com

          Like rubbish dumped in an exotic trash bag, it stood in his path,

          Foreboding and seeming out-of-place for a strange Santa's sack.

          The wind wailed in the trees like Banshees giving prophecy

          His eyes roamed the vicinity for signs of Santa, searching intently.

          Santa wasn't forthcoming.

          He waited a while longer, turning it over in his mind,

          "This stuff could come in handy, there can only be one of its kind."

          He said to himself as he surveyed his find.

          

          He decided he'd take it along, see who might come along

          On the other hand, he might keep it as Santa's gift to him.

          He figured he wasn't too old for gifts but he was wrong.

          On the real, he should have turned the other way, let it be.

          Death came on a midnight scream.

          Pandora paid a visit to his town and made wreck of it.

          A killer went on a shooting spree then, there was pandemic;

          There was floods in the cities, suicides and suicide bombing.

          

          It's Christmastime but rioting and violence take no vacations.

          Had Anonymous known this he would have been less ambitious.

          Secret Santa was wicked Santa who gifted guns n' roses

          A plethora of perils 'till we learn in these silences

          Danger comes not with sirens.

          The wars, the fighting, the pain, had Anonymous time to think?

          Would it have been different if he was content to eat and drink?

          That what makes Christmas special are the things which make hearts sync?

          

          

          Akpan

          

Ad Hoc Santa

Wouldn't it be funny, if there was a Santa Suit that could transmute folks who put it on into a real Santa? I know it sounds silly but, humor me for a minute, why don't you? What if a mall thief trying to impersonate Santa and hoodwink the security guys finds this special suit in a sealed-off closet and completely unaware of its peculiar powers puts it on?

However, there's a clause to the Claus suit (pun intended); what if the suit allowed its wearer his previous devilish fancies that is, it could make somebody good on the outside but the original wicked thoughts stayed (even though, the guy couldn't really put 'em to work until he took the suit off)? Can you imagine the frustration such scenario would create?

The following lines are the mall thief cum Santa Claus' thoughts as he performs his (Santa) duties.

Photo: sodahead.com

          Let me out o' here! Kid just kissed me. How I hate it.

          Why does a guy gotta go thro such torture to eat?

          Waoh, this one's pretty heavy. Say, what do you feed it?

          There goes my diamond ring bought and paid for. This is sick.

          How did I get stuck in this suit? This is a bad thing.

          Wish I could get this, wish I could steal that. Gimme that!

          Security looks away but I'm Santa Claus. Alas!

          I'm ad hoc Santa and I hate being Santa. It's Whack!

          

          Must be raining outside; the mall's full to busting,

          Can't believe they're here 'cause o' me. Heck, I'm delirious!

          Kid's yelling, let go. she likes me not. Are you for real?

          The world's hugging my space yet, I can't be mischievous.

          Ouch! Kid kicked my shin I've marked his face for payback time;

          Stop tuggin' on the mustache cause it's stuck and it hurts.

          Ho! Ho! Ho! it's No! No! No! say I'm losing my mind.

          I must be going bonkers and this Claus suit's the cause!

          

          I know it sounds funny but I just can't stand the buzz,

          All these noisome kids and I'm meant to be Santa Clause.

          I'm only an innocent guy trying to shoplift malls;

          Why do kids gotta get intimate and make a fuss?

          I'd choose jail than babysit; I'd choose bust if needs must.

          What? Is that spittle? How come I'm smiling? It's unjust.

          This darn red suit makes me nice to kids to my disgust.

          When does the mall shut down so I can get myself lost?

          

          

          

          Akpan

          

          

Santa's Worst Nightmare

What if Santa had personal demons? (Of course, he does battle internal fears, everybody does... right?) But if Santa had nightmares what would be the content of his incubus? Would it be fear of his arch-enemy, Jack Frost kidnapping Santa Claus and ruining the Christmas fun? The Grinch who tries to steal Christmas? A psychotic killer turning his bullets lose on kids? If Santa had nightmares what would be his worst? Read on and try to see if you can solve that piece of jigsaw puzzle on your own.

     And while you're at it, try to picture a Santa's grotto void of laughing, joyful kids at the peak of the Christmas season, if you can. If I was Santa, I know that would scare me titless.

The refrain comes in after each verse. I bet you can do that on your own so I didn't bother repeating 'em.

Photo: babybitznpartypieces.com

          'Twas the night before stuff got awry
          And all things beautiful grew tawdry
          The season took a bad turn and went gory
          Need I say things fell out in one big hurry?
          
          How still I saw them lie
          Permanently immobilized in my mind's eye.
          The endless column stretched from East to West
          I gasped as my breath caught in my breast.
          What could this be?
          Who is this beast?
          For one moment, I heard my heartbeat
          The rhythm disjointed and out of sync.
          
          The moanful creak of the derelict carousel
          Carved a ring of finality like doom's peculiar tassel.
          These kids, I wish they had a childish sort of carousal,
          One fine night, without their parents' counsel.
          Darkness is fallen.
          Silence is omen.
          Carols have been altered to dirge,
          Deserted grottoes placed on the verge.
          
          What's the point of a universe full of tall people
          When who you really need are the small people?
          Who stole children voices, that quaint magical dialect?
          Who robbed the season of music and a chance to recollect
          Good, genuine memories?
          How do I reminisce?
          What was the weapon-a gun, sword or deception?
          Did the Pied Piper make a visitation?
          
          It's empty! Empty! The whole world is empty!
          The sound in the silence is deathly prophecy.
          I close my eyes and dare not open it for fear
          Of what may come upon the midnight drear.
          The crows are flying.
          The wind is sighing.
          I think I'll stop by some field and pick the new blossoms;
          Never dreamed I'd witness the day kids abhor Santa Claus!
          
          
          Akpan