ATTENTION DEFICIT CHRISTMAS (To the tune of Jingle Bells)

Dashing through the thoughts

Of an A.D.D.-fraught head.

Presents to be bought;

Writing this instead.

Pretty snow outside

Calling me to play

“Ought to/want to” soon collide

Now, which will win today?

Hey!

Cards to write! Sweets to bake!

Stockings to be hung!

Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!

Hey!

Cards to write! Sweets to bake!

Stockings to be hung!

Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!

Dashing through the mall

In a state of frenzied fear.

Busy! Aren’t we all?

It’s that time of year!

Who did I forget?

Did I check my list out twice?

Then I break into a sweat

For paying retail price!

Oh!

Cards to write! Sweets to bake!

Stockings to be hung!

Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!

Hey!

Cards to write! Sweets to bake!

Stockings to be hung!

Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!

As I sit and write

And I work to make this rhyme,

Joy creeps in despite

I’m running out of time

To do the things I must

Like write my Christmas cards.

Instead I sit and look nonplussed –

Give judgment my regards.

Oh!

Things to do! Things to do!

Running out of time!

Cannot pull myself away from working on this rhyme.

Hey!

Things to do! Things to do!

But I’m not uptight.

Oh what fun it was to write a Christmas poem tonight!

Hey!

Marie Elena

TELL ME WHY YOU BELIEVE

                                                                                                                 I
                                                                                                             have
                                                                                                         done this
                                                                                                  for many years.
                                                                                       Tell me why I’ve never
                                                                                    noticed before. Why is it
                                                                            even the naughty ones get nice
             at                                                     this time of year? I don’t mind, since
           it                                                  means they want to get on my good side.
        Tell                               me why that is? I understand that every child, woman
     and                            man, don’t always believe in me, but I can see the good-
    ness in                    every person. I really do know. It’s a talent passed down
     from                   generations of Clauses. A telepathy maybe, or a knack. A
      crick in my back, or a tingle in my fingers. It lingers throughout the year
       and I hear a voice in my head that fills me instead with a compassion.
         I fasten my belt and get down to business. And my business has al-
          ways been Christmas. On the Eve of my big day, the elves load all
   of                                    the                                 gifts
  in                                      to                                   this
 sl                                         ei                                    gh.
  Then it’s up, up and away. Tell me why you still believe? I am Santa!!!!!


Walt

AND SO IT BEGINS...

November 1st.

Two months to a new year. The disheartening fact of the matter is that last night, Halloween had me listening to the "Sounds of the Seasons" channel on Music Choice section of our local cable. Rather raucous and rambunctious renditions of "This is Halloween" by Marilyn Manson, and "Feed My Frankenstein" by Alice Cooper. Every sinister and macabre song, sound and effect at the touch of my remote.


Step into November. A cup of coffee, leaves meandering out my window and a brightly colored Christmas tree upon my TV screen with Bobby Darin crooning "Silent Night". It's been in the stores. It is filtering into advertising. But it doesn't infiltrate into my house until at least Thanksgiving. The seasons changed on me overnight. I should have had some warning. And so it begins...


Walt