Saturday, December 5, 2015

Christmas Poem

 Every year about this time a madness sets into the populace. It is a man made tradition, that sets the whole country on a frenzy. This poem was inspired by a short time I spent working in retail, in a small variety store during one Christmas season. I had never experienced such a madness in all of my days, so this is for all of those poor shop keepers and shop assistants, who have to go through this year after year.

The Shop Keepers Christmas Nightmare

‘Twas just weeks before Christmas, and all through the Valley,
the shops were stuffed full, from their rooves to the alley.
The workers were tired, their faces were dreary,
the mountains of boxes, had made them all weary.
But shoppers were coming, their voices so merry,
they chattered away, like some tinsel toed fairy.
They ooh’d and they awed, as they snatched up the toys,
and many were not, very good girls or boys.
They broke many things and they hid them in places,
that made owners angry, put frowns on their faces.
They picked up the pieces and glued them together,
then glared at the shoppers and cursed at the weather.
For snow had been falling, the roads were now icy,
without much more shopping, the intake was dicey.
It snowed up a blizzard for many a day,
‘til shop keepers wished, for old Santa and sleigh.
Then just when they thought, that it couldn’t get better,
it started to rain and got wetter and wetter.
The shoppers returned, but their purse strings were tight,
and they wanted to haggle, well it just wasn’t right.
The lines were now endless and tempers were flaring,
the shop keepers meaner, the helpers uncaring.
For time was now ticking, the weeks swiftly passing,
the ham's in the freezers, the families amassing.
The tree’s in the thickets, or one’s from the boxes,
were mounted and garnished, hung up were the sox’s.
Yet many were out, just to find one more bargain,
and they were not buying, just any old jargon.
Now sales signs were many, they flourished like roses,
but shoppers were now, like blood hounds, with good noses.
They fought and they wrestled, they tossed all the racks,
‘til cloths on the floor, were piled up in great stacks.
They clawed through it all, just to reach one small jacket,
I don’t think hyena’s, could make such a racket.
The end of each day, left the shop keepers gutted,
from treading on toes, and one even head butted.
By now all the pleasantest, signs of the season,
were taken away, by the mob without reason.
Thank goodness it now, was just one day ‘til Yule,
to keep up this pace, one would be such a fool.
The shops were by now, in a very sad state,
and they couldn’t last longer, if left to their fate.
When the clock finally stuck, on the closing last minute,
the shops still had numbers, of shoppers left in it.
To get them to leave, was a terrible fright,
the clutching and begging a terrible sight.
The shop keepers pushing them out of the doors,
while the shoppers fought back, going down on all fours.
But finally ‘twas done, by the stroke of the clock,
the doors were all shut, the keys turned in the lock.
And then with a sigh, at the end of the day,
they wished that this holiday, would go away.
For tho it came only, just once in a year,
it took too much work, and it caused too much fear.
For everyone knew, when they went to their beds,
no visions of sugar plums, danced in their heads.
But just after Christmas, with all its concerns,
would come all the shoppers, with many returns.


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