Before Christmas night
black paws stalk around
looking for naughty children with no gifts
who have been mean and filled with spite.
Fiery Slitted Eyes
watch their every tiny move
Won't they soon be given new attire?
He's almost here, the time is nigh.
If The Yule Cat comes for you, grieve.
He wants your life not your toys.
Coal is the least of your worries.
Hush now, it's Christmas Eve.
Behold those foul teeth;
white whiskers bent out of shape.
Hope Santa put your name on the nice list
or his wrath you'll be beneath.
Beware his claws
scratching down the countryside.
Watch your backs; all of you have been out grinched.
You'll be tasty in his maw.
If the Yule Cat comes for you, believe
The birth of Christ won't save you.
The trees are creaking; is it him?
Hush now, it's Christmas Eve.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2019)
PoetryShort poems of varying subjects and construction, but deep enough to be swallowed in. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. These were written mostly in the year 2019. Please feel free to leave any feedback...
