On the tenth of December the badness began.
The only way out was the wicked way in.
Adults were all useless, both women and men.
The most they could do was yell, “Sin, child, sin!”
The hope of the world was on kids once again.

Dave painted the dog like a bright yellow sun.
Belle shot her buddy with a bb gun.
Hugh stole all the stop signs, every last one.

The trouble began when the power went out.
All over the Earth you could hear people shout:
“What’s this?  What, what?!  What’s this all about?”
Without lights, TV and stove, folks started to pout.
Then came the cold and the fear and the doubt.

Cindy cracked eggs all over the floor.
Lou cut the hair off her sister mid-snore
Who came back the next night to even the score.

Christmas could save them.  Santa would warm them.
Kids could earn coal for their crimes so let the cold come.
Elves traded their toy shops for mines deep and dim,
Using Rudolph’s bright nose to search out that dark gem.
Clause closed the North Pole and his rosy grin turned grim.

Hans smacked his brother and got walloped right back.
Nick grabbed some matches and torched the garden shack.
Sarah focused up and led her town’s vicious sack.

Christmas morn’ all awoke to stockings full of coal.
In fact, Santa and helpers had filled their rooms whole!
Children worked hard to be bad and had met their goal.
Now they could keep happy and warm from toes to soul
Thanks to another classic Christmas miracle.

Below the down and under
Sleeps a peaceful thunder.
Listen and hear its silver dreams.
Hear and love and wonder.

They know.  They know.  Let them lead.
Don’t push.  Don’t fight.  Don’t plead.
Go after, after the winking streams,
Passing at their hide-all speed.

They’ll take you to a glass hilltop.
Add a stomp to a high hopeful hop
And drip drop down through rising stars
Till end meets end and all things stop.

–

Then on again.  On half-black wind,
Singing over all things real and pretend.
With hands and thoughts on shining scars
Slip into the sleep on which dreams depend.

Happy Birthday to me.
The whole day is mine!
King of all that I see.
This day is divine.

Bring cake!  Ice cream!  Pop!
Leave your gifts on the pile.
Serenade me non-stop!
Come celebrate me for a while.

It’s a shame, shame, shame
That I don’t have all days.
That it’s a day long fame
Instead of always.

The things I’d get done
With a Happy Birthyear.
The fountains of fun.
The thought brings a tear.

But today is still my birthday.
Today is still mine.
Today is done my way.
Today I still shine.

Illustrated by Marcella

The big gray snowman was puffed up and proud.
He swaggered through blizzards.  His bravado was loud.
He was all ice boulders up to his shoulder,
Where his snowball head was more an icicle holder
With a fierce, frozen maw and eyes even colder.

One slow falling snowflake could not be impressed.
So he asked of the snowman, “Do you do this in jest?
Do you harden and sharpen and thrust out your chest
And glare like a glacier ’til the sun splits in half
And freeze time itself just for a laugh?”

Snowbeast didn’t make a single, slushy sound,
But his cold gaze found the only mouthy flake around.
Furious flurries fell as they felt winter rise.
Icy thoughts flew behind frost filled eyes.
Then he stormed on, one flake fuller in size.

Ruffage loved her veggies
But they did not feel the same.
She ate them up – chomp, gulp, slurp –
No mercy shown to gent or dame.

Even the baby carrots
Met an ending all too cruel.
She daily noshed on squash
And popped peas by the handful.

She ate pots of peppers,
And beets, spinache, sprouts galore.
After two truckloads of turnips
She just belched and asked for more.

One wise old onion at last
Hit on an idea – Kids love sweets!
So those greens made her
All manner of tasty treats.

They whipped up ice cream, crumbles,
Brownies, cookies, pies, a cake.
They purchased pounds of candy.
Their leafy lives were at stake!

Could they distract her with sugar?
Would they go to meet their death?
Ruffage walked into the kitchen.
Even Fate held his breath.

She was hungry but she paused.
Shrubby food held out their plates.
Green beans nibbled at a pie
To show her these eats should be ates.

Other greens joined in the nomming.
Ruffage looked to follow suit.
She gave a cake a sniff,
Then scarfed it like a brute!

They saved themselves! They did it!
Ruffage filled every bowl and cup
With sweets and passed them out to all.
Then she ate those fattened veggies up.

Please give me a hand.
Or maybe a foot?
I’ll take what I can.

An elbow?  A knee?
I could use some help.
Is anything free?

The hair on your chin?
Perhaps a pimple
Or even a grin?

Truth be told,
Just one thing matters.
If it’s you, I’m sold.

We begin with the end.
The villain won the day.
Our hero could not help us.
He did not find a way
To save what needed saving
And now the foul shall stay.

We’ve lost many things.
So it is.  So it goes.
But here we are still.
Evil rules, yet it knows
That we are not gone and
The good inside us grows.

We’ve met wicked many times.
We always play our part.
Many meetings are ahead.
More than strong or smart
We believe in good so
We end with the start.

When you meet a ghost,
Pause to say “hello”.
Running’s unacceptable
And screaming’s a no-no.

Spectors can be jumpy,
You mustn’t spook the spook.
If you don’t throw a punch
It won’t drop a nuke.

Offer it a hand,
But be clear it’s just to shake.
Not all offerings are equal,
Your hand’s not its to take.

Fix it up a snack,
Cheese and fruit will do.
Hungry shades attack,
Give them something else to chew.

Wraiths are born in darkness
So show them how you shine.
Amazing how a haunt will love you
Just for being kind.

Really just do your best
To be a gracious host,
And you’ll have a new pal
When you meet a ghost.

Drawn by Yana

Illustrated by Vanity Projects

There’s no such thing as an empty house
Even though it just might look it.
Watch a closed home with wizened eyes
And you’ll soon want to book it.

But don’t feel fear, there’s no need.
What’s inside doesn’t want out.
Doesn’t want friends, nor foes,
Nor you in its toothy snout.

Not good.  Not bad.  Quite wild.
It’s the final echo of Earth’s first roar.
You can hear it if you look close
And it’s your choice to abhor or adore.

It likes empty spaces, hollow places –
It lives to find and fill.
It’s called by the quiet
And drawn to the still.

A hunter – from scarred scarlet scales
To the bottom of every bonny bone.
It slithers through the solid
So no home stands alone.

Illustrated by Judson (More of his art here: judsonm.deviantart.com )

Himiny Smuckers left pieces of his mind
Where those bits told him they’d best be able to shine.

One went in the cookie jar just to check it out.
That’ll be an empty jar when he returns, no doubt.

The cat got one and may not give it back.
Playful thoughts are far too fun and only giggle when attacked.

One wanted nothing but to splash about.
After just one splish it got eaten by a trout.

The biggest baddie went off into the toilet.
When Himiny scoops it out he’s gonna have to boil it.

The smallest jumped minds to see how another thought.
It got quite confused but learned an impressive lot.

A gaggle just wanted to stay in bed.
They couldn’t imagine leaving their dear head.

His sister grabbed a piece and ran into her room.
In all honesty, that one likely met its doom.

One wished for nothing but to float with a cloud.
It made loads of friends as it found quite a crowd.

Himiny hasn’t lost his mind. He tracked every piece closely.
They’re all still there. And he knows where (mostly).

As they say, the heart may well be blind.
But it’s just as dangerous to listen to your mind.