A Poem from my 13-year-old self: Santa and Jesus
We had a tradition, from the time I was about 10-18, that my siblings and I would perform a skit for my parents before we opened presents.
I had no idea, when I first tortured my brother and sister to do it, what a fond tradition it would become.
The first year was simply a Bible reading, my sister dancing on a plastic bathroom stool, my brother playing a Christmas tune on his squawking trumpet, and sappy holiday music in the background.
Each year, they developed more and more. In the following years, we had camels made with blocks, pirate costumes, lots of wigs, Santa suits, rapping, and lots of giggles.
See this picture for proof:
I'm not exactly sure when I wrote this poem for our yearly skit, but I think it was in my early teens. I thought it would be fun to share the words I wrote years and years ago.
I used to write a lot of poems--silly ones not the bang-on-the-drums-in-a-dark-lit-room kind. Now, not so much, but it's still fun (or embarrassing!) to read what I once penned :)
Yes. This poem is ridiculously cheesy, but I hope you enjoy it!
(ps. I have not changed one bit of it...it's exactly how I wrote it all those years ago)
I had no idea, when I first tortured my brother and sister to do it, what a fond tradition it would become.
The first year was simply a Bible reading, my sister dancing on a plastic bathroom stool, my brother playing a Christmas tune on his squawking trumpet, and sappy holiday music in the background.
Each year, they developed more and more. In the following years, we had camels made with blocks, pirate costumes, lots of wigs, Santa suits, rapping, and lots of giggles.
See this picture for proof:
Somehow, they were still all about the real Christmas story: Jesus coming to rescue us.
I'm not exactly sure when I wrote this poem for our yearly skit, but I think it was in my early teens. I thought it would be fun to share the words I wrote years and years ago.
I used to write a lot of poems--silly ones not the bang-on-the-drums-in-a-dark-lit-room kind. Now, not so much, but it's still fun (or embarrassing!) to read what I once penned :)
Yes. This poem is ridiculously cheesy, but I hope you enjoy it!
(ps. I have not changed one bit of it...it's exactly how I wrote it all those years ago)
Down from the chimney came old St. Nick
With his bright red suit and white hair slick
He sneaked through the room not making a peep
Not to wake the children who were all asleep
He tiptoed to the tree, glistening with lights
Sparkling and glittering in the night
He shook his head with despair
As he saw all the gifts lying there
No one believed in him anymore
Instead they bought gifts at a fancy store
He laid down some presents under the tree
And sighed ever slowly, “If it must be”
He caught sight of the cookies looking so very sweet
And although he was full, he would take a peek
The gingerbread men were so brown and plump
Maybe just one, he mused, and then he’d go back up
He slid one cookie from the plate
And reminded himself only one he could take
Putting the cookie in his mouth, it tasted too good
Maybe another, just maybe he should
He took another from the plate
As crumbs were falling from his face
Then he licked his jolly full lips
And lifted the glass of milk and took a sip
A piece of paper fluttered from the mantel
It looked like a letter, as far as he could tell
He snatched it from the air
And settled down in soft, cozy chair
Dear Santa Clause, it read
My name is Sally and if you want to talk I’m in my bed
I’d like to give you a gift too
You’ll find the everlasting Gift in Luke Chapter 2
Just read the story and you’ll find out
Who Christmas is really all about
Farewell, Mr. Clause, and have a good night
Remember the story and sleep tight
He folded the letter and then saw the black book
He glanced away but then took another good look
It wouldn’t be terrible to read the story
He needed a rest and he still had all morning
He took the little book and turned to Luke chapter 2
Reading the story without so much as a “hoo”
This baby, Jesus Christ, was a marvelous thing
Who would’ve thought a manger was fit for a King
He was out of time
But he took the little book, hoping Sally wouldn’t mind
Scribbling a note to the girl
And deciding that Baby Jesus was for real
He wrote, Merry Christmas to you
And I believe it’s true
Thank you for showing me the best gift of all
No truck or train is better, not even a doll
This year I will celebrate the birth of a King
And all the blessings and joys that he brings
Your jolly dear friend, old St. Nick
And up with a swoosh he went
I wish you all a very safe and happy Christmas season! I'll be taking a few days off to celebrate with family and friends, but I'll be back a couple days after Christmas with some posts to bring in the new year!
Merry Christmas!
{I'm linking up with Tell Your Story at the Hollie Rouge}
Merry Christmas to you and your family. Beautiful poem, continue to write, you have been given a gift!
ReplyDeleteJan