Poetry Today: Trends and Traditions 18 Christmas Light and Christmas Dark

first santa First Santa by Thomas Nast


A great way to start a grey  & blah Monday! It’s an honor to be included in this column with some amazingly talented writers: Michael H. Hanson, Coralie Rowe, Kay Irwin, DS Scott, Rick Mohl, Lemmy Rushmore, and Jerry Langdon. Read….click….read again.  🙂                                                                         As always, huge thanks to Anthony for doing all the hard work. Send him a hug. Or money. Or a really good pizza.


Compiled and Formatted by Anthony Servante


It is tempting to write a thesis about the first Santa and his relation to the horned and demonic Krampus, but I leave that to the anti-Christmas folk who like to dwell on the pagan aspects of the holiday. In today’s poetry column, I choose to give equal attention to the lighter and darker elements of the Christmas spirit. To help me in my cause, I welcome our poets for today’s poetry column: We have Michael H. Hanson, Jaye Tomas, Coralie Rowe, Kay Irwin, DS Scott, Rick Mohl, Lemmy Rushmore, and Jerry Langdon. You may notice that I had an extra spot for Light Christmas poetry, so I included two songs by Trans Siberian Orchestra to add some sound to the proceedings. So gather round the computer screen with the elves, the Krampus, and Saint Nick to read a few poems of Christmas cheer and fear. 

Let’s begin.

Poetry Today: Trends and Traditions 18 Christmas Light and Christmas Dark


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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