Why..it must be St. Nick?

Who is this man….

With a beard so thick,

Placing in my palm

Sugary hopes, and a peppermint to lick.

Who is this man soliciting joy?

And promises of peace on earth,

And the gift of a toy?

Who is this man….?

Who threw coins to the poor;

In a red velvet and white trimmed suit,

Preferring chimney to door?

Who is this man?

Who brings the song of elves and trains,

With a wink, summons snowflakes,

And holds back the reins,

Who is this man….

That prompts the darkness to fade,

…..finds the long lost child inside,

And asks for nothing in trade?

Santa, Seattle Needs you!

Dear Santa:

I am dreadfully worried no one will save Christmas in Seattle this year.

It just feels, well you know, different this year. The rains have come and there just aren’t enough long socks and Hunter boots from Nordy’s to really insulate myself from the egos this year. People are cutting in line and driving like Jesus was never born Santa!  I’ve tried standing under the Mistletoe blowing kisses and bear hugging myself…..nothing…. I’ve tried stomping in puddles, like I do most years and the joy just doesn’t spatter up on my jeans like it used to. In fact, the puddles are murkier than ever -I cannot see my reflection. I hear sirens, not jingle bells and the malls are playing Kenny G’s Christmas’ I nearly choked on my gingerbread, really Santa, Smooth Jazz Christmas everywhere!

Oh and the weather, Frightful!   I went outside to hang my wreath on my door, I could easily walk outside in my underwear with nary a goose bump Santa…..It’s too warm for Christmas!   I’ve tried the usual fixes, listening to, “DO they know it’s Christmas time on my record player, singing Rockin’ around the Christmas tree in my best Rosemary Clooney voice, I belted out the Kinks Father Christmas loud enough to get sneered at, someone even told me Go back to Chicago!  BTW last year you forgot my Karaoke Machine.

Santa, I just need a little more spirit this year and I don’t mean the craft distilled vodka people seem to be into.   I just need your cheeks to be a little rosier, your smile to sparkle and greet mine, the clerks don’t even smile back…..Can you also leave a path of soot for me to write my name in and could you just eat the whole plate of cookies and not just drink the milk this year, I mean I use organic butter?   Santa I wish Toy boats would cut it but with Ebola all all, I kinda want a Microscope, and a T-shirt that says “just breathe” we are beyond silly putty. One thing I just have to remind you, as you know I told one of your clones in the mall, it would mean a lot to me If you could make sure no one gets toy guns…. with the red cap or not. Santa, ban them. It’s time, even cap guns and you know how I loved those, just ban them all, water pistils, BB guns. Just ban them this year in honor of lives lost locally, just ban them next year too.  Oh and before I get to baking……could you splurge on the really good REAL peppermint Candy Canes, just saying…..peppermint is so soothing, which reminds me,  your chubby little belly that jiggles when you laugh, yeah, you can even wake me this year, just so I can have a peek at it!  And do that hairy bagel thing you do…..I could use a good laugh-It’s that bad this year Santa. You are needed more than ever.   Thank you Santa for being real, Seattle people could learn a thing or two. I know you understand…….and you already know all this, after all- you ARE magic.

P.S. I am leaving Bourbon Balls, do not feed them to the Reindeer, if you know what I mean.

Merry, Christmas Santa



Anger Serum

A good friend spoke these words to me,

As my insides squeezed inward,

An invisible fist wringing my heart,

My breath dashed away,

“it’s just a drink”

For her it was….Simply, a beverage

For me it was utter darkness lifted,

Painful quietude removed,

I sipped, then I gulped,

The light switched on,

The dark empty room bright with light,

Like a toy room awaiting a sick boy,

By the second glass innocence freed,

Me- a floppy, toy rabbit,

Coming alive, ambling out of the walls,

Add red wine, a catholic priest, a wafer of grape on my tongue,

Demons giggle and rise to the top,

The rabbit is in full swing; Tango, Foxtrot, Lindy Hop,

Eased by smiles flashed her way,

Is it the flaring of the dress that gains approval?

The yearning subsides,

I am skating, gliding on the glass top

Like a figurine on a child’s music box,

Pulled as if a magnet tugs beneath my skates,

A once dormant smile stretches wide

My heart drops out,

If only temporarily,

I am Weightless, buoyant, bobbing free

Wanting for more red anger serum


Make Peace, or Art?


Somewhere in a manger

In a land quite far away,

Human aspirations

Truth, Peace and love;

eeked it’s message through the fray,

Far away from commercial racket,

Far away from haste and greed,

A messenger cried beneath the burlap,

He had more warmth than he could need,

The twinkle in the sky,

Beamed bright- the light held in his heart,

His plea was for the masses

each day of my birth

Make peace….

Or art?

A Diamond from Coal

The air is crisp;

The calendar

Ticks down,

Last year may resolve

With a gentle smile, or a frown?

The lungs fill deep with another day,

A trillion thoughts, lessons learned,

For my children to gather up,

With youthful eyes of green and blue

Bruised still, from years of an empty cup,

As sure as the warmth in their every breath,

As sure as in winter,

the whole world stills,

As sure as every birth

Is graced by death,

A New year creeps, or a cup that fills?

I flip from the 31st , not too eagerly, to the first.

There’s still that tale

Bubbling up inside,

if not told, will make a writer BURST,

The novelist unrealized, feels taunted,

Like a weary child,

fearful an adult will turn off the light,

Let the slate be cleared at Midnight

Let the words flow free with might,

Let all that is worth sharing

Partner with the dancer that is my soul,

Dig deep for courage revisit the “failed novel”

With the newness of a soft brown foal

After all, these things take time;

Think of the time it takes

to morph a diamond from coal?