Poems About Santa Claus


by “Diane”

Pass the buck;
it’s good luck. Let me
keep him from
the venison lovers, and
from Santa Claus
’cause I heard he
works them too hard,
even rumors there are
antlers over the fireplace
at the North Pole retreat

I will treat him
to the gifted forest
where the antelope
are fed their just cantaloupe
and melon collie dogs
bark a lark
Mrs. Claus Hates Sonnets

Santa Claus left her
a sonnet to read:

The romp of love beguiles, a playful horse
my heart a rider gripping spirit’s trip
a bit of banter falls from saddled lips.
A candor canters, musical in source
a clip-clop hoofing it, my fruit is tossed.
Her lust is cantaloupes so sweetly quipped
yet love’s a cherry deeply red of lip
outspoken rips in bound’ries’ gorgeous loss

I know you love me mole and mountain bluff.
I show my cards, won’t raise to bluff a love.
It’s real this deal of sharing zeal, a bliss
no gamble oneness riding thought enough
to join two souls, a coup by doves
who fly with coos to play the music’s kiss

Mrs. Claus hated his bluff —
rarely did she see
his cherry lips or cheeks

She could play
with farce no more, for
the fantasy wishes
in unlabeled boxes
would not suffice
for Mrs. Claus who
wrote free verse
while Santa was busy

Santa answered
delightful letters
from giddy children, but

she received letters
of rejection from the
poetry editor,
a trochee donkey
iambic like an ass

Mrs. Claus hated when the big one
went away on Christmas,
when the snow looked like
semen dried up and flaky,
his departing stomach
like a pregnant indulgence
she could only wish for

Finally, one Christmas
when no more
could she count the
melting snow flakes on her tongue,
count the elves, the reindeer,
the orphan toys, her emptiness
overtook her sanity, and
she took an empty sleigh
to drive into the city of sin,
her naked body wrapped only
in a fur coat, a pocket
for her Santa cell phone

She left the sleigh,
tied the reindeer to a lamp pole,
strolled the streets showing a leg,
singing “Ho, ha, ha”; Heaven’s
white tears covered her head as
she peered into loneliness
waiting for a finger of love, but
she spied a lost little girl

She hoo, ha, ha’ed the girl
’till the crying subsided,
asked her name
found a Lisa

“Where’s your Daddy?”
She didn’t know,
said he went for a quickie walk

She would look to find him as
the snow thickened, her head covered
with a white crown of sorrow. Lisa skipped
and jumped close behind her like
a newly born calf not
straying too far, waiting for an available tit

Mrs. Claus walked, showing a leg. A man
appeared from nowhere, laid
his hand on her thigh
like a roadway, followed the path

Eventually he noticed
her glistening tears. Looking
in her eyes, saw
he knew her
once before

Just then, the
Santa cell phone rang.
The Elf Secret Service said,
there’s been a sleigh crash, and
Santa is dead.

The world was wrapped in gloom
as Mrs. Claus
brushed snow from her head

Joy fell from artificial boons
and wrappers filled the ocean

With a poof
unreal gifts
vanished in a twinkle,
elves all banished
to a realm of puff

Starlight appeared
on Lisa’s tears,
a word on innocent lips:
“Can we all be married, Daddy?”

With a ho, ho, ha
and a ho, ho, ho
they vowed to
do better with love
to listen to snow
gust up and swirl,
to see a gift like a crystal
had already been born

— Douglas Gilbert


4 thoughts on “Poems About Santa Claus

  1. Nice Santa poems! It must be a good day ’cause this is the second time i’ve seen the word ‘lark’. “Bark a Lark” has such a great sound to it too. I recently saw Santa Claus…i asked him if i was going to get that new car i’ve been asking for since i was a teenager and he just laughed. Oh well, it was worth a shot, although I was pretty good this year so ya never know…hehe

    1. Good ol’ jolly Santa. He does listen. I wonder if he puts all the requests in a hat and picks one at random. Maybe you could get lucky. Maybe you’re supposed to talk to one of the elves first but I’m not sure if you need a visa first to fly to the North Pole for an appointment. Well, maybe not a new car but maybe you could get a new sleigh, or a sleigh bell. Maybe you have to ring the sleigh bell three times for an angel to appear and then… ut oh, or ut ho, not sure if you’re supposed to ask for a new chariot — that might not be right and lead to a misunderstanding. It could be that mixed myths are more dangerous than mixed metaphors.

      1. ahh…now i might understand. Big gifts like cars are sort of like a lottery. I bet i never got it because even if my cars were pieces of junk, at least i had one to get around in. There’s people all over the world that need things way more than i need a new car. Besides my car runs pretty good, even if it needs a new exhaust manifold that i can’t afford right now. I have some bells here…i wonder if i should start ringing them. A chariot sounds awesome. Yes, umm i’d like to change my request. One Chariot please! hehe…yeah, mixed myths might be kinda dangerous.

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