‘Twas the Redneck Night Before Christmas

and all through the house,
not a critter was stirring,
not even the louse.

He had drunk all the eggnog and was completely soused

Granny hung her ripped stockings by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nick would take the hint and give her a new pair.

The kids were all asleep in their beds
with visions of moonshine dancing in their heads.
They had tried some of their dads, and while it had quite a bite,
it sure helped keep them warm that cold Christmas night.

Mama, weary, her bones all stiff,
with the cat in her lap,
had just settled on the couch for a long overdue nap.

When up on the roof there came such a clatter
even dad woke up and asked, “What’s the matter?”
Mama could hardly hear him over the crash.
She wasn’t sure the roof would last.

“Why don’t you go look and then you’ll know,”
She said and tried not to let the fear show.

He screamed and said, “Come over here,
and bring my gun, there’s eight deer!”

She ran over right quick.
She started to hand dad the gun and then saw St. Nick!

Faster than a bullet they came.
St. Nick burped and then called them by name.

“Now, Thrasher! Now, Sampson! Jagger and Wiccan!
On, Homer! On, Stupid! Dandruff and Mitten!”

“Pick up the speed or the sleigh’s gonna stall!
Faster! Faster! Before we fall!”

Mama held her breath and watched the sky.
Knowing that St. Nick was about to die.

You could tell St. Nick had had a drink or two.
But the deer seemed to know what to do.

It wasn’t long until there was more noise on the roof.
They listened hard and counted each hoof.

They closed the door to drown out the sound.
St. Nick was in the house by the time they turned around.

He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot.
Though they didn’t have a fireplace, he was covered in soot.

He had a huge red backpack.
Mama was disappointed that it wasn’t a sack.

His eyes were bloodshot and a little teary.
His face was red as a berry.

“He’s drunk,” Dad whispered low.
Mama figured he would certainly know.

St. Nick had a joint clamped tight between his teeth,
and around his neck he wore a wreath.
It looked very old and smelly,
and hung all the way to his beer belly.

He was staggering so much he had to hold on to a shelf.
Mama tried not to laugh but couldn’t help herself.
He mumbled something, and shook his head.
Mama was pretty sure she didn’t want to know what he said.

When steady enough, he went to work.
He filled all the stockings except mama’s… the jerk.
Pretending to scratch, he put his middle finger beside his nose,
but mama was not fooled, being no stranger to that pose.

He walked out the door and gave a whistle.
The deer shot off the roof like a missile.
They heard him yell as he flew out of sight,
“Home, y’all, it’s been one hell of a night.”

Tom Turkey

Tom Turkey was kind of jumpy

He had to get out of town quick

He’d heard people talking,

and what they were thinking of doing to him was sick

All trussed up on the Thanksgiving table

Getting carved up for all to savor

He couldn’t bear the thought

Tom had to hurry before he was caught

Tom skipped along, dodging tree limbs and jumping stumps

Going as fast as his little legs would carry him, busting his hump

But as he rounded the bend,

Tom saw two men in front of him

He quickly ducked to the side,

and watched as they searched far and wide

Tom was hid well,

His feathers blended in with the leaves

He was almost in the clear

until he sneezed

Tom tried to get away,

He gave them a merry chase

but, alas, that wasn’t to be the case

The men grabbed Tom,

and put him in a sack

He kicked and he squawked

but it only got him another thwack

When Tom quieted down,

the men should have worried,

but they didn’t

they were in too big a hurry

Tom had a plan

He was going to be free

He would not end up on someone’s plate

Not he

The men reached camp

and opened the sack

That was when

Tom went on attack

He jumped out,

claws bared

and went straight for

the first man’s hair

Tom dug deep,

to the bone he tore

It was life or death

the screams he ignored

The second man grabbed Tom,

and tried to pull him off his friend,

but Tom was having none of it

He tore into him

He poked the man’s eyes out with his beak

And ripped and shredded his skin with his feet

Tom was determined to win

His life was on the line

He would do them in

It was only a matter of time

When the fight was over,

Tom was beat

He had never fought so hard

His stomach rumbled,

Reminding him he had to eat,

But Tom was too tired

To go foraging in the woods

To search out his normal treats

Then it came to him,

What he would eat

Tom started a fire,

and then he surveyed the slain beasts

He didn’t relish the coming meal,

Even though it was sure to be a feast

This is one of the original poems in my book, Scared Sleepy, which is available on Amazon. I know it's a little weird, but I hope you like it.

I Watch

I watch, as if from the outside
as the inside falls apart
Piece by piece,
change by change
Never sure what will come next
always waiting, always knowing
Something new is coming,
something else to add to the list
Another condition,
another symptom,
Another expectation crushed

My dreams have changed
My goals are different
As the rock changes when the water crashes often enough
so too does the soul when the pain courses through and through
When it hurts to breath,
When it hurts to move,
When it hurts to walk,
When it hurts to sit,
When it hurts to stand,
When it hurts to lay down,
When it hurts on the inside and the out
When it hurts…

I watch, as if from the outside
and marvel that the inside still fights

The Fall

Humpty Dumpty was a sad ole egg

‘Cause, you see, he had a peg leg

Yes, eggs have legs, and arms, too

They aren’t so different from me and you

Humpty was sad because he couldn’t play

His peg leg got in the way

Some said eggs didn’t need appendages,

The could just roll

Humpty thought that was ridiculous,

And droll

He wanted to play with the other kids

and be free

But, alas, that was not to be

On the night of Humpty’s great fall

He was indeed on the wall

He went up there to ponder his fate

Little did he know he’d end up on someone’s plate

What else should they have done

after Humpty fell from the wall and shattered?

Than serve him up, with bacon, on a golden platter