Wed Dec 24, 2014 5:19 pm
The bells of winter morning chime bright and clear
Ringing long and loud so that all in Myrken might hear
Though the young boys and the girls will find glee
There is something quite wrong and somewhat eerie
Though presents and candies still sat upon hutches
And a sad little Timmy still had his crutches
Though doors, windows, and sheds are found latched
And the fresh powder snow has hardly been scratched
Every father and mother of the wealthier sort
Would find a their precious gold and silver was short
Surely they noticed on this most auspicious day,
Their purses were lighter, the cause of some dismay
But not much else was missing, not clothes or shoes
And there wasn’t a trace, no manner of clues
The obvious answer was an old children’s tale
Of a white bearded man, riding a midwinter gale
His belly was round and his red robe was long
Hauling a large sack of fruits and toys, he was strong
But despite his vast appearance he is fast and light
And his candle will never wake you, though it is bright
Though who among parents and elders could recall
A winter when the sneaky saint took anything at all
For one who brought toys it’s an unusual splinter
A crime committed by dear Father Winter.
Sun Dec 27, 2015 8:48 am
((Sorry for the delay, hopefully this can still be used and that you all had a happy holiday!))
Once again it is Yule and the morning bells chime
Waking Myrken residents to the unusual crime
No treasured toys, games, or staple goods are taken
No unwelcome pests escape when blankets are shaken
Even the crafty and careful can hardly discern
For there is no violence to be the cause of concern
Windows are latched and the snow still pristine
Nothing at all to hint at the thing yet unseen
For the fathers and mothers with coin to spare
Will find their purses light and their jewelry box bare
Perhaps Father Winter has become greedy at last
Or the caper in the night was truly so fast
But who else to blame for the Yule-Eve crime
Than the winter spirit that visits at this festive time
For the poor folks of town there is a curious surprise
A small, welcome gift with little disguise
No bows or packages wrapped up in string
No silly bobbles or some meaningless thing
An extra coin in their purses, cupboards, or drawers
Perhaps something shiny set on their floors
It isn’t much, and surely less than all that was took
But it isn’t the first such theft in the book
Just a little from all and no harm truly done
So presses on the lovely, Yule-morning sun
Mon Dec 26, 2016 6:34 pm
((Happy Holidays Everyone))
Up in a hayloft on the outskirts of town
A young boy awoke to the slightest of sound
Such a small noise was the creak of the wood
Where when blearily he looked nobody stood
But just yonder undone was the latch
Jumping with hopes that Father Winter he’d catch
He ran to the window and threw open the shutter
And on the rooftops a black cloak was aflutter
Not as large or red as he thought
And barely a glimpse of the spirit he caught
It ran deftly and bounded with grace
Leaving behind very little to trace
Left stunned and silent in the snowy night’s air
The young boy shut his shutters with care
Only to turn and beside his candle and bed
Find a gold piece, left by the specter that fled
For many such folk daybreak brings added joy
A few extra coins they’ll find gifted from the ploy
Though few wealthier folk will admit feeling cheated
Another year's crime has thus been completed
Fri Dec 22, 2017 10:41 am
((Happy Holidays my friends!))
‘Twas the night before Yule, and across all the land
Constables watched carefully, not a corner unmanned
For they knew of a spirit that struck once a year
Bound and determined, their mission was clear
Catch the solstice bandit whole stole from the rich
Prove that he was human, not spector or witch
Surely he was, despite the many tales of his deeds
He had done it all without a trace, at inhuman speeds
Yet they caught nothing as they searched around
The snow drifting silently, with no bandit to be found
Quiet, cold flurries brought an undisturbed dust
And only once in a while was there a noticable gust
The trees whispered, their branches tall, dark, and high
And there camouflaged against the black winter sky
Was what seemed to be a flying, cloaked, hooded figure
Eluding the guards as he leapt quick and with vigor
On the second floor of a vast manor estate
One window remained lit, though it was late
Beatrice Barnet, daughter of a baron no less
A debutante beauty, was ignoring her rest
Watching the landscape from her window at midnight
She studied the snow drifts for the midwinter sprite
Young but a woman, with fair skin and dark eyes
She sat unaware of the shadow in disguise
So surprised was she then when a breeze prickled her neck
That quickly she turned and in the shadows she’d check
A black-clad form emerged and she gave such a gasp
Her eyes opened wide with a candleabrum tightly agrasp
No sooner than that and he stood right before her
At her lips a finger pressed so she would not stir
With his hood fully drawn he placed a kiss on her cheek
While slipping from her a bracelet, with unmatched technique
She held still the weapon, confused and blushing
While the caper escaped, the freezing air rushing
Light on his feet, with barely a sound
He danced over rooftops, never touching the ground
Quick as a robin, flitting in flight
Hooded and hidden, dark as the night
He was out the window just as soon as he’d come
Off to redistribute small treasures with aplomb
So it is that the spector was witnessed
Not quite Father Winter or a spirit of Christmas
Despite the crimes Myrken’s poorest still smile
For the food, toys, and tools earned from beguile
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