PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

T’was the night before Christmas

And in each of our rooms

The aroma, of smoked meat

Hung in the fumes

The sausage was hung

In the fireplace with care

In hopes that the smoke

Would cure it, right there

The children were sleeping

All tucked in their bed

As the scent of Kielbasa

Did waft through their head

With mama in apron

And I in my toke

I was turning the meat

Trying hard, not to choke

For hours I sat there

As the Kielbasa cured

Tried holding back

While my hunger endured

Then, my tummy rumbled

With such a loud clatter

I just had to fix

Myself a platter

And what should I find

To fill my round belly

But rows of cured sausage

Just hanging there, really

A bottle of wine

I think a Chablis

My wife had provided

I know just for me

When out on the yard

Arose such commotion

What was the cause

I had no notion

My way to the window

I made thru the smoke

Pushed open the curtains

And took a good look

I saw hundreds of tracks

On the new fallen snow

And dozens of creatures

In the moons glow

There were dogs and wolves

Coyotes and cats

Bears and red foxes

Wolverines and rats

All of their noses

Were up in the air

I was amazed

By how many, were there

All were just staring

And licking their snout

Saliva just dripping

Their tongues hanging out

Sniffing and scratching

And baring their teeth

Must have smelled sausage

That’s my belief

They jumped at the window

When they saw me there

Scratched at the glass

And gave me a scare

They’ll eat us alive

My wife at me screamed

They’ll soon break the window

Or so it seemed

I pulled at the curtains

To get them shut

Of course, pulled to hard

And so, broke the strut

Thus down they all came

In one great big mess

My wife was not pleased

I must confess

Just then from the chimney

Came a boom and a crash

And down fell Santa

All covered in ash

As he staggered ahead

He got caught in the string

That held all the sausage

Poor, chubby old thing                                                                                                                    

Now covered in meat

As well as the soot

He started flailing

And gave out a big hoot

Then down the chimney

Fell a large raccoon

I wondered if Santa

Was to rabies immune

I grabbed that poor thing

By the scruff of the neck

And said to myself

Oh what the heck

I’ll skin it and smoke it

Just like the rest

Give it to Santa

When I wish him, my best

But, to my great surprise

Santa got loose

And the words from his mouth

Sure were profuse

So back up the chimney

He shot with a snap

Just by giving

His nose a small tap

When all of the noise

Had finally subsided

The kids ran out

From where they had hided

And that’s when we heard

Old Santa screaming

“Move your ass reindeer”

“This place is teeming”

We ran to the window

Where we all could see

Poor Santa running

As fast as can be

The hoard right behind him

As he jumped in his sleigh

The scent of smoked meat

Had sent them, his way

The reindeer were running

Trying hard for some air

While poor Santa’s clothes

Were almost stripped bare

Then after much effort

The reindeer took flight

While the hoard, stopped and watched

As they flew out of sight

And I can recall

Poor Santa exclaim

“That stupid old Pollack”

“Has done it again”

BOEMS by JA 307