Literary Arts
Poetry by the John Hay Poets
previously published in the InterTown Record
SANTA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS
On days of gray Santa’s spirit sank out of sight;
His delivery elves had joined Amazon year-round.
His toy makers couldn’t match speed of light
Gem-cracks. What could he reasonably propound?
His cookie makers had left for self-employment.
Fact staff now worked in NY city for the ACLU.
The Reindeer had lost forage to the climate tint
What could neglected Santa possibly do?
Well there is the annual greetings to small kids
With little ones sitting on Santa’s lap as guests
And the importance of being Santo for all on the grids
Surely Santa knows best how to channel requests,
Dan H. Allen, New London NH
CHRISTMAS
Santa is a spirit filled with the magic of Christmas,
A magic seen in a Christmas tree that shines its ornaments
Through windows of a neighbor’s house
Where excited children wait in anticipation of Christmas Day.
Santa, however, is not always dressed in red,
Wearing a white beard, and carrying a sack full of toys.
He has many helpers, some of whom are mothers and fathers.
Sadly for some, Christmas does not hold
Their wishes to surprise their children.
It was written in olden days, “There are times to give and times to take.”
Christmas has a deeper meaning than Santa.
Gifts or not, Christmas is Love!
Love is the joy of Christmas!
Florence Wiltshire Millett, New London
SANTA’S MID-LIFE CRISIS
Santa didn’t feel like delivering toys
To all the good little girls and boys
Often feeling sick and tired
Hypoglycemic and uninspired
His tummy was so bloated
His insides felt explosive
So full of gas
Few could surpass
Bad allergies galore
And a troublesome coldsore
With asthma he did writhe
And could hardly breathe
Santa was depressed
And overly distressed
With bronchitis, osteoarthritis
Sinusitis and acute gastritis
He began to inflate
As he piled on weight
He was eating a lot of cookies and bread
Maybe that’s why his cheeks were so red
Mrs. Claus had read about gluten
Thought maybe this was the solution
So on a gluten-free diet Santa went
And his health began to reinvent
All his symptoms went away
As long as gluten-free he did stay
Santa was able to deliver the toys
To all the good little girls and boys
He hopped in his sleigh
And was on his merry old way.
Anne Sarkisian, New London NH
SANTA’S MID-LIFE CRISIS
Mrs. Claus’ once happy face is wearing a frown
As she watches the way Santa’s been going to town.
He’s on-line buying toys for a much younger man
Thinking he’s due to enjoy all that he can.
A Fitbit new watch and a new exercise routine
Just doesn’t seem like Santa, if you know what I mean!
How many kids will be disappointed on this Christmas day
To find all those cookies left untouched on his tray!
And what’s with the shiny new red Corvette - all for show
It’s not like he can even drive it in North Pole snow!
Santa’s sleigh now sits so forlorn outside the barn
While the Vette sits inside, toasty and out of all harm.
The reindeer are worried, not eating their hay -
Wondering if they’ll even fly on Christmas Eve day.
They heard Santa talking to some high-tech boys
About using drones, of all things, to deliver the toys!
But worse than the clothes and his new toys small and big,
Is the new ‘do’ with dyed hair that looks like a wig!
An IPad now replaced the ‘List’, Mrs. Claus realized -
The Naughty and Nice kids are now computerized!!!
Who to turn to and ask, Mrs. C ponders in vain
Santa’s mid-life crisis is driving her totally insane!
Sandra Little, Newbury NH
SANTA’S MIDLIFE CRISIS
An elfman woke me up last night by dancing on my head.
I asked, “Is everything all right?”, and this is what he said:
“We’re warning everyone we know that Santa’s gone awry:
he won’t put on his Santa pants and says, ‘I’m not that guy.
I’m way too cool to ‘Ho ho ho’ and drive a dumb old sleigh.
I’ve joined a gym, and do tai chi, and now I’m on my way
to jog around the entire earth—I’ve got my Nikes on.
I may be late with Christmas gifts—too bad—but now I’m gone!’”
The elfman shook his tiny head, and looked so very sad
I looked into his tearful eyes and told him, “Little lad,
you’ve got the toys, you’ve got the sleigh, the reindeer know the route
and Mrs. Santa’s just the size to wear the Santa suit.
Perhaps she’ll take his place this year delivering the gifts--
No one will know the difference, and no one will be miffed.”
The elf man smiled a little smile, and to the North Pole flew.
He told the plan to Mrs. S., who knew just what to do:
“Bless your heart, you tiny man, but everything’s all right.
Christmas Eve will always come, and Christmas will be bright.
But after all these many years, poor Santa needs a break:
He needs to get his mojo back, and heal his every ache.
Remind the world, this special year, we’re sisters and we’re brothers
and not to wait for Santa Claus--give love to one another.
And think how happy all will be to look up in the sky
and marvel when Cool Santa Man jogs into their July.”
Joan T. Doran,New London NH
SANTA CLAUS’S MID-LIFE CRISIS
Santa Claus was feeling quite frumpy,
since Mrs. Claus no longer looked dumpy.
Her diet last year, left her full of good cheer
and her cellulite was no longer lumpy.
Santa exercised and starved on the Keto diet,
his wife just watched him and got very quiet.
Checking his figure with much vim and vigor,
liked what she saw, booked a room at the Hyatt.
Then Santa decided to give his reindeers a rest
and thought horsepower this year would be best.
A Ferrari he bought, without a thought,
and passed his USA driver’s test.
Then the grey beard and hair had to go,
it made him look too old and slow.
He dyed it all black, and loaded his sack,
but now he had too much to tow.
He hired some trucks, to carry the toys
for all the good little girls and boys.
Then a new white suit, he bought to boot,
and a snappy red tie stamped with joys.
Things went smoothly for a little bit,
until the first border crossing he hit.
No visa or passport he had to retort
when told by the guards these to submit.
Eyes are a twinkle, your nose red as a cherry,
get out of the car sir and do so in a hurry.
Sirs, that white stuff in the bag, with no Merry Christmas tag,
keeps me wide awake this night, and now I really must scurry.
They did not believe he was Santa Claus
told him so with never a pause.
Patting him down, they started to frown,
knowing he had broken some several bad laws.
But suddenly in the air Mrs. Claus did appear
with Santa’s sleigh and all of his reindeer.
She unloaded the trucks, and called to the bucks,
we can still save Christmas this year!
So this is the story of Santa’s mid-life crisis.
Seems they thought he was a member of Isis.
Looking quite dapper, he spent the night in the clapper,
which Mrs. Claus thought was quite priceless!
They all heard her exclaim as she drove out of sight,
My Darling, my Dear, have a very good night.
You can thank me later, to me you will cater,
for making your Christmas Eve flight!
I’ll keep the Ferrari, don’t take it back,
if you want to keep this marriage in tact.
I’ll post bail and out you’ll sail
then we’ll write a new marriage contract.
It will state I’m your equal,
since I am brilliant and bilingual.
Only then I will write you out of this blight
while holding all legal rights to the sequel….
Dianalee Velie, Newbury NH
THE BEST YOU CAN BE
I see in you a strong beautiful woman
Whose talents reveal your inherited backbone
A gift giving you the courage to be the best you can be
I see in your eyes the magic spirit in a wishbone
The spirit dreams are made of
What greater gifts are there?
You have met some unfortunate times
Though your strength has carried you
You are a true survivor
Cherish each day as a precious offering
While in your gratitude
Let your backbone shine
Let your dreams be contagious
And never stop sharing your funny bone!
Florence Wiltshire Millett, New London NH
The Wishbone Football Offense Formation
They all had strong backbones those in the wishbone.
Quarterback, fullback and two tailbacks.
Take the snap from the center. Ball can be thrown
Or pitched to trailing speedsters for your attacks.
Or tuck the ball into the FB's gut
For a plunge into the line
And watch him cut
Downfield into the endzone - goalmine!
Darrell Royal Texas Longhorn,
Bud Wilkinson Oklahoma Sooner - the coaches.
The 4-man backfield triple option was born
And electrified 1960's/70's fans with its exciting approaches.
Skip Hause, Sunapee NH
WHEN BACKBONE MET WISHBONE
At first, they ribbed each other
but soon they were at cross-bones,
for Backbone’e eyes bored holes in things,
while Wishbone’s eyes were never bored
and saw things holy everywhere.
And though the Fates conspired
to wall them off from one another,
Wishbone’s longing summoned gold
and from it, Backbone made
a ladder, strong and tall,
forged from possibility and will.
Then Wishbone painted rainbows
on whatever clouds came into view.
Backbone molded clouds to bricks
and built their dream on bare-boned grit
and granite sparked with mica stars.
Their bone china bore the sweetest meat.
Their bone pile was always full
and they were blessed with funnybones.
Joan T. Doran, New London NH
RIDDING THE HARMFUL
Instead of breaking the wishbones of Thanksgiving,
I’ve kept them whole with wishes. I don’t want to hurt anything
especially that which once connected a Y to wings.
In the comfort of my own despair, I honor the backbone
I seldom knew was there. From the beginning of me, it seems
someone or a group of them has wanted to crumple me like a bag
of dirty laundry. “You have to grow a backbone” some said.
No, I say, I don’t; you create it for me day by day, disc by disc.
Those people would pull so greedily on a wishbone,
the magic snuffs in the snap, because they are ignorant.
Instead of breaking the wishbones of Thanksgiving,
I’ve kept them whole with wishes. I don’t want to hurt anything,
especially that which once connected a Y to wings.
My vertebrae mean everything to me—no one can break me.
Amber Rose Crowtree, Grafton NH
BACKBONE VS WISHBONE
Backbone gives one stature
Wishbone gives one hope
One will raise you up
The other gives you scope
Solid foundation on one hand
A prospective on which to dream
Profound thoughts come to mind
Opportunities so it would seem
As we stroll down many paths
Life unfolds along the way
With our Backbones and Wishbones
We will certainly have something to say
W. D. Tighe, New London NH
THE APPLE PEELER
for Linda Whipple
Five bushels of apples she peeled
and cored, doing most of the work
herself. My arthritic hands pared slowly,
blessing our friendship, praying and
remembering the turkey wishbone
we snapped one Thanksgiving
calling it a draw. Now I desire only
to take away her pain as she seeks
balance after losing her love to cancer.
The backbone, the core of our camaraderie,
lies in tragedies borne, joyous occasions
celebrated and sharing stories of our kids
and grandkids. Today she’s apple saucy
and smiley, peeling and organizing my pantry
as our November days grow shorter, darker.
Now, with the backbones and wishbones
of our friendship, we harvest
what we have nourished, awaiting
the inevitability of winter’s hibernation.
Dianalee Velie, Newbury NH
A BONE OF CONTENTION
You are graciously invited to come for Thanksgiving
but, first you should know there are certain conditions.
Do not bring your dog, we have two cats,
when they feel threatened they are known to attack.
Conversation is encouraged, however, there are rules.
Climate and politics are okay to discuss,
as long as you watch the same news that I do.
Wishing you are healthy and if you are not,
keep the organ recital to a minute or two.
I will serve a bronzed bird with all the trimmings,
including stuffing, cranberry and mountains of mashed.
And, something green but not that bean casserole,
because my mother always said, “why gild the lily?”
For dessert I will serve my signature pie,
don’t bother to add yours, we’re trying to diet.
Can’t wait to see you and just so you know
we don’t eat marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes.
If you comply you are welcome back.
See you on Thursday, Happy Thanksgiving.
Mary Blohm, Newbury NH
WE OF HOARY HEAD
My heart yearns for what it cannot have
but gulps my privilege.
History has taught availability.
Old Age has refined choice,
has encouraged disorder, entropy,
which is arrested by a backbone.
Dan H. Allen, new London NH
Literary Publications
Visual Verse Poetry Reading and Photography
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