Christmas Poems

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Christmas Poems Tigger
by Bob Blackwood

1999
Christmas was a long red stocking
with Santa and eight tiny reindeers
filled with the sweetest tangerines
with leathery skins, the first
of the season. Little round seeds
spit out into half-globes of the peeled skins
keep the carpeting clean.

Now it is a plastic Tigger
with a light inside for the kids.
But Diane made real stained glass plaques
which hang on the front door's windows
showing the Magi, the Holy Family
and two shepherds with a white lamb,
A crystallized Presepio.

Instead of chocolate chip cookies
And pounds of buttery powdered goodies,
chocolate and cranberry biscotti
Bake in our stove and perfume the air.
And Diane tells me the truth, and
I am the family grouch and Groucho.
It's as good as it gets, Jack.

Christimas card 2000

2000
The Photographer/Xmas Shopper’s Poem

Oh Lord, that 1988 Escort with the bald tires
Is three feet from my bumper.
I just know its driver has no i.d., no insurance,
Just a notebook from the Chicago Public School System.
“See, I’m a student.”
Don’t hit me, lady; the road is slick.

The whack of plastic on plastic at 5 mph.
The sad tale, the threat of tears.
The only i.d. her name on a Mary Kay Cosmetics envelope.
Searching for a payphone in an ice storm
One that works, damnit!
And then the cop drives by and tells us,
“Go to the station.”

Why me, Oh Lord?
Why not you, Mr. Citizen?
The problems of Mexico are in your backyard,
Up your bumper, in your face.
“Why did you take my picture?
It’s a violation of my human rights?”

What else am I to do? No license, no insurance.
Smile, and get ready for the people at State Farm.
Better them, than the Mexican federal police
on a lonely country road south of Mexico City.

Relax, lady.
At worst, you get a lecture from the cops;
I get three weeks at the chiropractor.
Merry Christmas, Felice Navidad,
yo’mama, yo’mama, yo’mama, yo!

2001
It’s Coming
By Bob Blackwood

It floats down upon the middle gray sidewalks and streets,
Dark splotches, like blood, but more of them,
Turning from crystals to liquid,
Covering the grime and oil for awhile
Until the blackness dirties the white veil.

Still falling, into the darkness of the night,
Building up next to the tires of Range Rovers in Lincoln Park,
The housepainted white vans of Polish immigrants in Portage Park,
And the holy Chevys with chains through the hood
To keep the battery thieves away in Bucktown.

Keep holy the Lord’s Day;
Don’t slip on that black ice.
It’s Christmas in Chicago,
And isn’t that so nice?

Christmas 2002:

Christmas 2002

Christmas 2003:

Christmas 2003

Christmas 2004:

Christmas 2004

Christmas 2005:

Christmas 2005 photo card: Bob & Diane church directory photo, at Kennedy Space Center and visiting the U-505 submarine exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry.

Merry Christmas 2005

by Bob Blackwood

You know it will be a Merry Christmas

When the wasps build a nest in your soffit in November,

When the TV News tells of deaths east of Suez .

You know it will be a Happy New Year

When your cat condescends to scratch you for snuggling her,

When your ex-students are more excited to see you

than your relatives.

Peace on Earth; good grief to all;

Please permit the priests to marry, Pope;

Out of the closet and into the chapels, your holiness.