'Twas the Night Before Christmas - Dr. Clement Clark Moore

'Twas Dr. Clement Clark Moore that named the traditional reindeer in this poem which helped create our modern day "traditional" Christmas.

Can you name all the reindeer before you watch the video?

No you will not find Rudolph there. Rudolph was actually created for an advertising campaign in Chicago during the 1930's.

This is a lovely rendition of "'Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Enjoy.

Merry Christmas!

End of a Dog

I want to ease your pain
Never more, you'll run again.
Those tired old eyes.
Your long sad sighs.
You stumble on our walk,
I look and see that familiar stare,
Yet I know the puppy is no longer there.

And when your head lies down to rest.
I know I did my best.
For eighteen years you were my guide
Then With a nod your old heart died.
Now forever in memory true,
Nothing left for me of you.

No rattle of trotting claw
No scratching of the door.
No sad goodbye morning bark.
No cheery yapping at the park.
Only silence fills my day.
Since the morn you went away.
My heart breaks  for you
For so long you were true
Now there is nothing here of you.

In Flanders Fields - Lt Col Dr. John McCrae

As

Something Blastoma... A Poem of Cancer Diagnosis

In recent months I have had a roller coaster ride of emotions.

Last December I had what I thought was a bad cold and Bronchitis. Following a Chest X-Ray and other tests giving results from "Valley Fever" ( a nasty fungal lung infection) this would be my first time. I got a even nastier diagnosis from a doctor. Lung Cancer.

Though the doctor was not sure of the result for certain. He came up with a stunning piece of news. I will tell you now though that I am not taking this doctors word, and have made arrangements for a second opinion in a few days.

But that is by the by.

The news was a shock. As with many traumatic events. I was moved to write a poem. "Something Blastoma..." is the result.

To read Something Blastoma... A Poem CLICK HERE.

Memorial Day

Hunched he stands,
Head hung low.
Above the sound,
Jets fly low.
An old man , no place to go.

Above the sky,
Of Truest Blue.
Whiteness Red stained,
For you and me.

The flag,
Unfolds upon the breeze.

As he stands,
'Neath the trees.

Beneath his feet,
A friend or son.
Who gave his all
For Everyone.

If peace shall come our way,
Let us not forget
The Cost
Of Memorial Day.