Humbug Honorable Mention

Following are winter holiday poems that did not place in our Humbug Poetry Contest, but are worth reading all the same.  Each has it’s own twist on the holidays.  I have noticed a trend in that the poets seem to favor one particular holiday, but that’s okay.  

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Humming slumber bug

by Ann Raven 

A tasty wench had too much beast for Thanksgiving

barley caught up with turkey tryptophan coma

she studied every “as seen on tv” product

from shaking barbells to bras made of genies

Having Christmas shopping on mind

get something good and get it fast!

Hurry browse online, but don’t get grunky

if the internet buffers to a slow as molasses 1 G.

Humming in attempt to be alert

taste every gingerbread cookie recipe

no guild for the smores

feast on chocolate and ten cup of joe

hummer to a slumber

hum

bug…

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I Knew Mr Bah Humbug by Kimberly Gray  Bah humbug is not with me this first year Replaced with stillness and more than one tear For the first time ever I understand My ba humbug dad bigger than any man He completed our festive day with grouchy snarls Hated tradition and Christmas carols Ba humbug he’d bark as he lit the lights Quietly loving the fake outer fight He passed in February I know humbug I’d give anything for one more hug This topic warms me not by fluke I feel Dad did love Christmas and all for real Each half hour he’d say his bah humbug and play We all could laugh knowing he just loved Decembers day So thank you for call to content By healing my fears of intent So I remember my dad and every hug I shall joyfully end for him bah humbug

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My  Trashy Christmas

 by Exotic Hippie Queen

The tree is so crooked,

It won’t stand up straight.

It keeps falling over,

I hope Santa is late.

Red stockings are strewn

In a pile on the floor,

Where a pitbull named June

Passes gas as she snores.

Hope Santa is late,

‘Cuz I’m falling behind.

Yeah, Christmas is great,

But I’m losing my mind.

The presents all sit

New, unwrapped in three closets,

While my phone’s blowing up:

My account needs deposits.

Please silence the night,

And undeck the halls,

Then spare me the blight

Of Grammy’s cheeseballs.

Hope Santa is late,

‘Cuz I’m falling behind.

Yeah, Christmas is great,

But I’m losing my mind.

Drink eggnog for lunch!

Eat rumballs for dinner!

They will help me a bunch….

Babe, I’m no Christmas winner.

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HUMBUG

by Jeff Bresee

I can’t stand another year of this

With the sales that start after summer’s bliss

And the songs that play round the clock each day

And the cock-eyed ice and snow

And the ho ho ho’s and the ringing bells

And the wasted time; makes me mad as hell

And crowds that block every road and shop

Every doggone place I go!

No I can’t stand so much as another day

Wish this time of year would just go away

And leave me here to my mansion

Warm and snug

Cuz I’m tired of the groans and the chains that creak

And those three damn ghosts who won’t let me sleep

So to you and them I say…

BAH HUMBUG!

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Woke up Christmas morning, smokeless fireplace cold as ice

 by Ruby Fuller  

A noise from the kitchen

Turned out to be my Husband and his buddies shooting dice

Empty beer cans stacked to the ceiling, my kids nowhere in sight

I searched all over

Thinking Grandma probably took them overnight

Polly my sweet Parrot, passed out in her cage

Seems Hubby and Buddies gave her too much booze

Causing her to faint in a drunken  rage

Hearing a giggle outside the once beautiful decorated door

Seeing my kids playing in the snow, devoid of coats or mittens

Feeling faint as i lowered myself to the floor

Spying a note half slid under the carpet

A note from Santa, saying, ” I can’t do this anymore

I suggest you contact ’ The Salvation Army ’ for the children’s toys this year

God bless the organization, they deserve so much better

To involve them in this debauchery certainly brings an unjolly tear “

Worried, i sat down and reread the kid’s Christmas wish list

Suddenly feeling quite ill, beginning to stutter

Quickly developed an uncontrollable lisp

On the verge of hysteria my mind remembered the Turkey i’d put in the oven to cook slowly overnight

Nervously checking, smoke billowing

What a terrible sickening sight

The shiny tinfoil had opened, Turkey as dry as an old Dog bone

As i pondered what more could possibly happen

I knew without a doubt, i had to be alone

Furiously i cleaned house, i mean not a sound could be heard

Now tenderly stroking Polly

My sweet precious drunken bird

I silently made a vow to regain control of my insane domain

Hoping against all odds

That Santa will want to visit once again.

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Scrooged

by Kevin Harling 

Under a barren and sparsely decorated tree

lay three packages.

One small, one medium and one large.

I unwrapped the dust laden parcel from the past, a small

package wrapped in newspaper.

holding it gingerly within my palms as if it was a ghost,

that still haunted me.

A parcel from the past, forgotten, put aside and lingering

like garland running along a bannister filled with cobwebs.

A parcel from the past, dusty and whispering

like a cold wintry wind.

Within, much to my chagrin was a mere note.

A chilling note that laughed mockingly.

It said, and I quote, ” Move onto the Present.”

And so without much further ado, I approached the bundle, 

a medium sized box wrapped in red and green

tissue paper.

I must admit the size was endearing and my heart skipped 

a beat. I shook it and shook it. But nothing moved within.

I eagerly ripped the paper and clawed my way inside.

A box labelled the present and so it was now.

Both it and me, here and accounted for.

Inside to my surprise was yet another letter.

Neatly folded and printed in fancy bold fonts.

It read and I quote.

“Firstly the past to which you can’t behold

and secondly the present, to which much has been foretold.”

So onward you may proceed onto the future

and all the promise it holds.

Their it lay the biggest of the lot, wrapped in shiny tinsel

the colour of gold. It twinkled and beckoned with 

perfectly tied bows. It was hard not to want to hold.

As I picked it up and began to shake it,

a sound could be heard. A strange echoing sound,

a hollow sound. A sound that didn’t feel cold.

With much excitement I began to open it.

Contained within was a small gold envelope

with embossed silver letters.

And without any further ado, this is what it said,

“The past was all your yesterdays, the present right here now,

and the future hasn’t happened yet. Your life is passing by.”

And you have been Scrooged.”

Comments

[Kimberly Gray]

What a wonderful contest this was. Reading these poems of honourable mention is most inspiring and pulls at all emotions.

Special thanks to Tom for his professionalism and embracing each poem with care and interest. As you know, that means everything to a writer!

This publication is one I am so grateful to have been referred to as it's top notch and a ton of class.

Thank you

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