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Three Poems for the Holidays

Perfectly perfect rhyming rhymes, the Santa notwithstanding clause, and nuts.

By Kevin Somers
Published December 25, 2017

Perfectly Perfect Rhyming Rhymes

I'm in, too, deep
I suppose
I no longer think in prose
I'm addicted to rhyme
And rhyme all the time

Every word that's heard
Something is stirred
It's kind of absurd
I'm kind of a nerd
My brain's like a bird
It hears a word
And then it takes flight
It might go left, but then it gets right
It might go dark, but then it finds light

I can't explain it or restrain it

Oh well
What do you going to do when you live in a shoe?
Rhyme, that's who!

I don't feel that bad, Dad
There are worse things I could do
I write poems with my rhymes
Or songs, sometimes

From brain to paper via my pen...
My pen, my pen
My very dear friend
From In the beginning
Right to The end
My pen touches paper
And gives it life
My pen, my pen
A poet's midwife

From mind to page
Expressing rage
Or joy or glee
And other feelings you can't see
From page to stage
Then all the rage
Hallelujah, glory be
Rags to riches
Look at me

But, you know, I'd rather be
At home, alone
On another rhyming spree

Oops. Where were we?
Sorry, I dropped the thread
I day dreamt, instead
I was rhyming in my head
What was it that you said?

I get lost sometimes
Lost inside my lovely rhymes
Where I turn lemons into limes
And pennies become dollars and dimes
And small injustices are major crimes
Because that's what it'll take
At times
To make, for perfection's sake
Perfectly perfect rhyming rhymes

Santa Notwithstanding Clause

I could give a clinic
On how to be a cynic
I don't want to be cynical
But, it's so easy, it's clinical
Cynicism runs me through and through
Why such a cynical point of view?
Open your eyes, look and see
To me, it's as obvious as can be
Let us start with Santa Claus, shall we

Santa is a worldwide star
More popular than The Easter Bunny, I'd say, by far
Santa and his fans insist
Santa is a socialist
And he loves all children equally
Well, please, answer me
Why do rich kids always get more
Than needy children who are poor
How, pray tell, do you keep score

We heard Santa's story and swallowed it whole
But if Santa, really, has a factory at the North Pole
Why in the name of God and Dinah
Do all his gifts say, Made In China

Wherever he goes there's a welcome mat
And he's fawned upon, like an autocrat
"Santa is youthful and husky
Not old and fat"
He has a red suit, black boots, leather belt, whip, and a smashing red hat
You got that?

If I dressed that way
I think you'd would think I was gay
That's OK
Santa might be queer
Mrs. Claus, the old dear, might be a beard
A front, a cover
Perhaps an old elf
Calls Santa "Lover"
I don't care
That's neither here nor there

But, sadly, experience breeds mistrust
There're facts which should be discussed
Santa leaves presents, under the tree
And, everyone knows, nothing is free
Going from low, to the least
Santa brings to mind a smiling, beguiling God-awful priest

In pajamas, boots, and stocking cap
Santa goes to the mall and invites kids to his lap
He baits them with candy and promises toys
But they have to be quiet, good girls and boys

Santa watches our children and puts them on lists
And only God knows how Santa's mind twists
It's rather dodgy, a little spotty
Santa gets haughty
And then he decides who's nice and who's naughty

He slides down the chimney when we're all asleep
Then slinks round the house without making a peep
If I did that, you'd call me a creep
Rightfully, I would go straight to jail
Santa gets milk, cookies, and thank you mail

I really hate to be a scrooge
But, the holes in his story are just too huge
For me to believe it
Try to conceive it
I seek truth and Santa lies

So, I'm sorry I can't share the joy
Or join in on the cheer
When everyone else is screaming
Santa Claus is here

Without further grandstanding, slandering, pandering, or meandering
Merry Christmas, Santa Claus Notwithstanding


Nature always puts on a show
And there's a great big window
Right beside where I write my life away
So, sometimes, when my writing-brain goes astray
I'll watch gatherers gather and predators prey
The squirrels are my favourite
I must say

I love to watch them strut their stuff
Gather nuts
Stuff their guts
Then scurry out for more nuts
To hoard, stash, and store nuts
Those crazy, little adorable nuts
Love, cherish and adore nuts

Squirrels fight for nuts
Live for nuts
Die for nuts
Nuts is the struggle
Nuts is their strife
Their life is nuts
Nuts are their life

It occurred to me, recently
It's sad, but true
I'm a little squirrely, too
I adore nuts, hoard, stash, and store nuts
I have all my life
The biggest nut I ever got, is my nutty wife
She nuttier than a fruit cake, for Heaven's sake
She's a half baked total flake
She doesn't sprawl on the couch, or drink, and she loves to clean
See what I mean?
She's nuts
I'm not saying this cruelly
After all, she had been warned
It was noted, often and duly
Only a nut would marry a nut like yours truly

But she did and we had a kid
Then another
Two sisters, no brother

The girls are nuts, too
I'm sad to say
There was no other way they could go, though
Given their nut-rich DNA

The oldest might be the nuttiest, I fear
She goes to Western to be an engineer
She doesn't love hockey fights or drinking Beer
That's queer
She's gentle, friendly, and kind
She's quiet; rarely does she speak her mind
She works and studies all the time
It's another signal, another sign
That crazy nut is no son of mine

Girl number two is a nut, through and through
She turned our house into a zoo
And all the pets are nutty, too
It has to be said
My squirrely girly has nuts in her head

She talks to animals and they talk back
It's her gift, her talent, her special knack
Be it dog, rabbit, kitty cat
Bird, gerbil, hamster, rat...
She always finds a way to chat
Dr Dolittle called and said, Hey, how do you do that?
If she wishes, she could probably talk to fishes
It's nuts

I'm surrounded by nuts in our nutty Nut House
Nutty kids, nutty critters, and a real nutty spouse
I know it sounds nutty, but I'll say unabashed
I'm really quite fond of the nuts I have stashed
These are my nuts and I'll reap what I've sown
Get your eyes off my nuts
Go get your own

I may be a nutty klutz of a putz
But, I love and live for my wonderful nuts
Just like the squirrelly squirrels I call friend

That was Nuts
This is The End

Kevin Somers is a Hamilton writer.


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