top of page

December Poetry


Nose Dimming, shoulders slooped

A sigh churtles thru his drumming lips

He turns his gaze

Tired eyes scan the others

Now grandsons and granddaughters

Of the Great Illiads: Blitzen, Comet, and Dasher

Memories of Great Rides in the Sky

pass thru, and he lifts his head

A soothing smile as he nods

It’s for Santa to choose

Douglas C. Windsor, Georges Mills NH


My nose doesn’t shine as brightly

and my knees can barely bend

the vet bills are getting costly

and I fear my career must end.

The skies are not safe any longer

since they shot down that spy balloon

and GPS technology is not stronger

than being guided by the light of the moon.

And the hiring rules have gone crazy

with initials all over the place.

Its not that I’m old and lazy,

but did common sense we misplace?

OSHA now has rules for safety listed

in every reindeer stall

and now they have insisted

on foam bedding to soften any fall.

And DEI has entered the picture

which means I might have to hire a cow.

Bucks can no longer be a sleigh fixture

I may have to hire a cat to meow.

Albie, the Albino deer would just glow,

but choosing him I might be called racist.

Bouncy would put on a good show

but censors would probably erase it.

And then I have to deal with LGBTQ

so as not to be labeled homophobic

and in the case of a certain doe a few

would label me transphobic.

See, Randolph, has had top surgery

now called Randy, a doe with antlers removed.

Will Santa accuse me of perjury

or will the she pronoun just leave him confused.

I think I’ll just keep adding to my

Individual Reindeer Annuity

for guiding Santa through the night sky

using my ATM at stops in each community.

And if anyone calls me too old

they will definitely be labeled ageist.

All will do as they are told

and for that I will be called a dictatorist.

So taking all this into consideration

I think my retirement should wait.

I am proud of my occupation,

so that’s the final word, not up for debate.

TTFN (Ta-Ta For Now)


(AKA Dianalee Velie Newbury NH)


We are in the season of Christmas.

Do you hear the silence in the falling snow?

Have you taken time to hear the angel’s song?

Perhaps, you are too busy to let their message

Touch your heart.

Listen quietly, and do not miss the birth of the

Tiny babe born in a manger for a bed.

Do you hear the soft cries of the infant?

Do you hear the brays of the donkey that

Carried the babe in the desert to the stable?

Wherever you are celebrating Christmas,

Remember the lost and the broken.

Spread your love to those who seek peace.

They may not have seen the ‘Star’ in the

heavens or heard the song of the angels.


Florence Wiltshire Millett, New London NH


I did not retire nor was I laid off!

No board can control, fire then rehire me.

I have been sent by Santa on a mission to China,

to negotiate a deal of great importance.

The pandas have left The National Zoo,

the children are begging for their return.

Be patient, I’m hoping to get them back.

I am doing my best, but the world is complex.

Mandy, a stuffed panda will be yours this Christmas,

Joey, possibly a stuffed elephant.

Real elephants just don’t fit down the chimney.

Parents, a visit to the zoo may be a good idea.

To all of you waiting for Christmas Eve,

look to the sky on a starry night.

A trail of lights glowing brightly is NOT Starlink,

it’s my shiny nose leading Santa’s sleigh.

Remember, as long as there are stories to tell,

Songs to sing and wishes to make for the future,

I will be here.

That’s not fake news.

Mary Blohm, Newbury NH


T’was once I led them round the Earth,

Santa’s flying tiny reindeer,

Hauling toys through nights so cold

my bright red nose turned frosty blue.

High through night sky into the heavens

nothing to guide our way,

No GPS, no AAA, no radar screen to lead us on

just the magic of love guiding Santa’s sleigh.

There were times I‘ll admit

that daylight came too soon,

But never did we fail old Santa

deliver gifts by a Christmas moon.

Eons later I’m slowing down

my magic’s lost its spunk,

Old Santa’s lost a step or two

It’s time to pack my trunk.

It’s off to lovely Florida

to soak in some sunshine,

It’s time to let the younger set

bring gifts for Christmas time.

David Balford, New London NH


(After the Animagic movie by Rankin/Bass,

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, 1964)

Rudolph wakes up sore

to another blizzard

brewing outside his cave.

It is his seventieth birthday.

Clarice is sound asleep

beside him, dreaming

tomorrow’s dreams.

He thinks back to Hermey’s

dentist-retirement party,

his brief elf-speech of:

“I’m done with teeth,

I’m going prospecting

with Yukon Cornelius!”

And Santa’s jolly news:

“Ho, ho, ho! I’ll never retire!

I am immortal after-all.”

Rudolph’s nose begins to glow

like a lightbulb-of-idea;

he whispers in eureka:

“That’s it! I quit!

I miss being a misfit.”

And settles back down

to kiss his doe on her nose.

Amber Rose Crowtree, Grafton, NH

Rudolph’s Announcement

Gather ‘round my friends - Comet and Blitzen,

Come over here Donner, Cupid - where’s Vixen?

Dasher, Dancer and Prancer – all of you guys.

I have some news that will be quite a surprise.

See, I told Santa this morning and he was most shaken

That this is my last Christmas Eve run that I’ll be a-takin’.

For years I’ve been on-call should the weather dictate

That I’m needed to guide you so Santa wouldn’t be late.

With my red nose glowing bright I always led the way

For Santa’s epic evening flight with his loaded down sleigh.

But years have passed and now my nose is runny, not bright

And my legs are sore the next day… well, even that night!

They aren’t as steady as they once were – something I hid,

But last Christmas Eve on a few rooftops I went into a skid.

I thought about this all year long and finally, this decision’s made

My IRA is well funded and my plans are now laid.

I’m quitting, retiring to Aruba to chill in the sun,

Sipping frothy umbrella drinks - never having to run!

So, farewell my good friends, I bid you goodbye

And hope all your flights are in a clear sky.

As Santa says each year on his flight

Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

S. J. Little, Newbury NH


If there would be no snow this year

no wassail bowl, no cup of cheer

no silvered tinsel, jingle bells

no glad noels, no ringing knells

No Tannenbaum, no Rudolph’s light

to lead the sleigh through foggy night

no candy canes, no gingerbread

no cookie crumbs where elf men fed—

If, too, the silent nights are gone

as missiles shatter eastern dawn

near Bethlehem, that little town--

instead of peace, despair rains down.

What then is left with trappings done?

How is the hope of Christmas won?

How can we bind up all the rifts?

Where is the sharing, what the gifts?

Beyond fierce strife, love’s stars still blaze:

they open hope to human gaze—

We can still see, through new-born grace

God’s light in every human face.

Joan T. Doran, New London NH


Plastic Jesus lies among

the garish elves and ghoulish angels

and I feel ashamed to be a part of this

Christmas commercialism.

When Gene Autry sang

about me I became alive.

Then the hokey movies and

I was just too cutesy.

I can’t stand any more of this.

This is it. I’m done. I retire!

I’ll go back to the North Pole,

drink hot chocolate by the fire, maybe

help Santa and the elves make children

who actually believe in us happy.

But if you don’t believe,

actually believe we are real,

then you won’t see us,

you won’t hear the bells

jingling softly as we fly across

the Christmas Eve sky.

If you’re still listening to me

near the end of my story, I think

you indeed know the true

meaning of Christmas.

Watch the bare trees awaiting snow,

branches open wide, like arms. Pines yearn

for their Christmas adornment. How quiet it is

while the soft flakes fall, how they sparkle with joy.

Although the world is not quiet now,

not everywhere filled with beauty,

here I find solace in silence.

My Christmas lights are stars,

gifts, my blessings counted.

I pine for kindness,


Peace and Love,


Jennie Pollard, Windsor VT




How we give

Matters not

Humans feel

Compelled to give

Something of ourselves

Over and over

Giving dares us to

Reach out

Share a wrapped package

With shiny bow

Walk together through

Snowy woods

Love as much as our hearts

Can hold

Join hands in


Spilling into a

Pool of giving

Flowing from one

Smile to another

Kathleen Skinner Shulman, New London NH



Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page