Santa Frantic

I’m so distracted that I’m begging on my knees
I’m praying Santa, Santa, Santa, Santa Please
Don’t pass by my place I can tell you’re getting near
I hear those sleigh bells ring, ring, ringing in my ear

The kids are singing, singing, singing in the choir
The logs are burning, burning, burning on the fire
I’m feeling frantic like I’m dancing on the ceiling
Twelve months since last time that I had this crazy feeling

I feel so dancey, prancey, chancey in my soul
I want to party, party, party, rock and roll
The corn’s a pop, pop, pop, pop, popping in the pot
There’s jambalaya, and a pie a little hot

And soon the nifty, thrifty, gifties will be here
We’ll all be loving, gently shoving to get near
And then we’ll take, take, take our goodies from the tree
So we can rip, rip, rip, rip, rip the paper free

So let’s all give, give, give, give, give some gratitude
Have a delightful, mighty-rightful attitude
Cause it’s a wondrous, purely fundrous kind of day
So don’t stop shiv’ring, quiv’ring when it comes your way

A lil poem

Snowy day
Christmas lights.
Will it snow
Christmas night?
Sledding down
with my bro.
Will there be
Christmas snow?
Got a cold;
sniffy sniff.
Will it snow
the twenty-fifth?
Nighty night,
hushing sound.
Will the snow
come rushing down?
Chistmas morning
open lids.
Did it snow...?




The end.

Stupid Old Santa

Stupid old Santa
Stupid Christmas tree
Stupid red stocking
Prob’ly not for me

Make believe reindeer
Phony flying sleigh
Irritating carols
Hate it when they play

This time of year
I live in fear
Of holiday expressions

Yes I’m sorry to say
That Christmas day
Fills me with such depression

Those annoying tunes
Where some loser croons
“Santa’s oh so great”
They fill me with hate

Buying all those toys
That don’t spread no joy
Just a bunch of junk
For some little punk

There’ll be no elves
Filling up my shelves
With goodies of all description

No naughty list
No mistletoe-friend kissed
Just Valium by prescription

Keep your gift-wrapped garbage
Keep your tinseled tree
Keep your stupid Christmas
Far away from me

Just because it’s offered
I don’t have to take
On the other hand
I do love fruit cake

And as I reflect
Why should I reject
A gift or well-phrased greeting

Warming by the log
A little cup of nog
A candy cane for eating

Maybe this year
With a little cheer
I won’t find it so depressing

So my dear friend
My poetry will end
With a stupid-old Christmas blessing

Little Baby Fingers

Oh, yes.
I remember.
Your first Christmas presents were wrapped in tissue paper.
So your little baby fingers could tear it aside.
Surprise!
Something you have never seen before !

Christmas Poem

Fires give off glowing light,

Snow falls softy through the night,

Home and hearth are on my mind,

For Christmas is the finest time.

It all begins on thursday fourth,

When, usually, we head up north,

Dreaming, waiting, till we dine,

For one can’t wait for Christmas time.

The season long, and filled with merry,

With Mom-Dad-Conor, Tom and Barry,

Giftmas gifts run through my mind,

For it’s getting close to Christmas time.

Christmas eve can be quite tense,

We must converse with little sense,

With company we would decline,

If it were not for Christmas time.

Tomorrow morn, when first light breaks,

What joyful shouts and calls we make!

And after that, we soon align,

To see who’s first to Christmas time.

And greater are the joyous cries,

When Christmas hits our weary eyes,

Gifts removed from under pine,

With all caught up in Christmas time.

How grand it is to nap in paper,

Exchanging candies with one’s neighbor,

Yes, the pile has declined,

But still there’s joy in Christmas time.

We celebrate with all due mirth,

Both children’s story and their birth,

One for us and one divine,

This is why there’s Christmas time.

Now, to all, I mean to speak,

If you see this as something bleak,

Then take our joy and make it thine,

There’s room for all at Christmas time.

Barry & Diana

Conor & Ilaria

Shell Spelling for Love

Tom & Laura

Wormy Shell Spelling Project

It's never a good time not to be watching Barbie TV.

My holiday rap ya'll

Giftmasological
scientific chronicle
puttin it in focus for ya
like I was a monocle

i foresee snow,
some under tree prez
hi-res photos chouldn't show
all the happinezz

picture us
loungin on the couch
you can see up through the christmas tree
if ya crouch

my mad skills of rhymin
and mega timing
still cant define the divine kind
of fine dining we'll be finding
in our stockings
after santa comes knocking
block each other in the hall
as we go rocking
rocketing in slick socks super duper fast
last one there is still happy cuz its criss-mas

a blast of chieftans
some charlie brown and roches
what a tragedy
when its finally buenos noches...

Bad Holiday Poem

Startin it up

Good, it's not dead

Slide that defog

to the red

Purp Jug's rollin like

Santa's sled

pickin up Gifts for

Christmas

Barry's out in Rabbadabton

Rappin it up

getting things done

Tom's North West In Teaberburg

Workin' on seconds

Done with his third's

Conor's still in Serphimgrad

not quite sure about

Mom and Dad's

and Donald's up in Dinoland

Getting stoked for

Christmas

Black is in the big white chair

Blue is napping under there

Mum is raking in the back

Dad is sitting with the cat

Grump is haunting traffic lanes

Sonja's chasing aeroplanes

Gabby's still a bit too loud

Rosie's nappin in a cirrus cloud

4

5

0

9

Now

it's

night

time.

Pwom is stealin a big cookie

Cog is passed out on a book

Bowser's fighting with a wookie

Don wakes up to take a look

Snow is everywhere out there

Noone's driving anywhere

He don't remember when it is

Until he's up to do his biz

Remembers he can't cross the line

Until it's really christmastime

4

5

0

6

Now

It's

Chris

Mis!

- Show quoted text -

i smell santee

snoz is comin' early round this time of year
getting kinda chilly, air is crisp and clear
shouldn't be too long before ol' winter's here

flannely pajammies covrin' twitchy toes
fragrances of nutmeg waftin' up my nose
reachin' in the closets for the warmer clothes

whatcha think you're doin' sitting there alone
texting anna talking on a cheap cell phone
pack your bags, you're leavin' and your headin' home

good stuff'll be waiting so you betta fly
turkey an potatees and some apple pie
snuggied by a fireplace that is warm an dry

pappa's gotta a story and it don't make sense
fables 'bout a princess and some british gents
slime boys are in trouble, they ain't paid their rents

"X" it on your calendar it won't be long
santa says you been good and he can't be wrong
just to getya started you can sing this song

Bear & Crow Visit the Wise Man Comic

My Pumpkin

TOM

I picked an old spiral notebook that looked blank from the cabinet under where "the gerbil used to be" to take with me to Russia last summer. Somewhere midway through the trip I found a few doodles by Tom in a blue ballpoint pen on one of the last pages. Here they are. In case you can't tell, that card says "TOM" on it.

Sorrowful Halva

Wrote this in Russia during comics and tea. In picture see a pitiful reenactment with me and Lee.

(It's supposed to be funny yall)

Today I bought a piece of peanut halva at the market. We had it with dinner. Tonight conor is upstairs already for some reason, and I went into the fridge and took, as if from some long forgotten corner of the refrigerator of my memory, our old sesame halva, and as I did I imagined myself eating it and sobbing.

"Why are you crying?"

"It's just so good."

Bu then I thought - I think now that it was weeping for my memories of yesterday - when we didn't know today, when we didn't know the other halva. We only had sesame and were content, but today sesame has become one of two halvas, and in a way, we can never return to it again - not as it was, not as our only - not without knowing what's outside. And so now sesame halva - the same piece - is both itself and the pain of its memory.

Just as when we leave Vishny Volochok I will miss the flavor of these days - the way it feels to be stuck with nothing to do but sit around the table with a hot pot of tea carving a piece of halva, and drawing together until late. Today our life here comes closer to a sorrowful memory. Just as my memories of my brother change with each added year - each new separation from that first state - one of only one I knew, at home together as children.

Ballad of An Entwife

I hide in shadows
'neath withered limbs
the sky grows darker
the forest dims
I left the entmen
so far away
and now in sorrow
I'll soon decay

As a young entwife
I longed to run
through verdant pastures
so free and fun
but now uprooted
I'm doomed to fade
and die in autumn
no more to shade

So tell the entmen
I'll miss their might
their massive branches
their tow'ring height
their leaves so gentle
their roots so strong
their joyous voices
raised in entmen song

Condensation Drawin

Double Foldy

Fold-over Drawings

Birthday Telephone Pictionary

To play Telephone Pictionary:
Each player needs a long piece of paper. Sit in a circle. Start by writing a sentence at the top, then pass to one side. Illustrate the sentence you received, and then fold the paper so only your illustration is visible, then pass again. Write a sentence about the illustration you received, then fold the paper so only the sentence is visible, and repeat until you're out of room, or you've got your original sentence back.

At the end it can be funny to match up the original sentence with the final illustration.

Drawing Contest

Three dragons, three goblins and three ghosts - by Tom, Barry, and Laura (in that order). Click to make it big.






































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