These Are My JOTtings...

'Twas the Night Before Christmas - WDC Version

'Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through my mind
Every thought was a-dancing.
No rest did they find.

The stockings were draped
on my legs there to warm
in hopes that repose
would be free from cold's harm.

The child was all nestled
quite snug with her phone
with visions of Roblox
to lull her fast prone.

With Mom fast asleep
and I typing fast,
Now, 'twas fully assured
that new writing was vast.

The clicks of the keys
nearly lulled me to sleep,
but the chickens were still,
never making a peep.

When out on the lawn
there arose such a noise,
I jumped from my chair
greatly lacking in poise.

I saw in the moonlight
every little round badge,
Pulling Big Man's red sleigh
and hand soapy lady, named Madge.

With merits so noble
in badges so bright,
I thanked them so greatly
so honored tonight!

When what to my wandering
eyes should appear,
But a StoryMaster
with ideas so clear!

Excited like children
his helpers they came,
While he whistled and danced
and typed all their names.

Now, ~ Santa Sisco ~ ! Now, sybarrios !
Now, Samberine Everose and Carol Saint Ann !
On 🌕 HuntersMoon ! On Jim Hall !
On tucknits and NaNoNette and Hanna ~ Be Kind 💕 the same!

All the words of the poem!
All the words of the flash!
Write your thoughts in a hurry,
while you still live the dash!

Mounting twister of hopes
in the rush to the draft,
Caused the prancing of feet,
dancing tongues as they laughed.

So, up to the peak
of the house as they lept,
Flew the writers so merry
that tomorrow they slept.

Then, just in a moment,
I heard all the while,
The dancing and prancing
and flying roof tiles.

"Respect all my homeowner's
capital up there!
"A writer's dear words
aren't just dollars, if you care!"

I lifted my head,
and cricking my neck,
Saint Nicholas handed
my palm quite a check.

He was quite overdressed
in my own southern clime,
and his sooty aspect
started looking like slime.

The Toys that he had
were our tools of the trade,
Varied papers and quills
and a housekeeping maid.

His eyes, filled with laughter,
his cheeks were ablaze,
His reviews all encouraged,
so filled with great praise!

The stump of a pipe
he chewed hard as he wrote.
His fingers were flying
with each writing quote!

He had a plump little face
and a belly so fat,
That he weebled and wobbled,
where'er he was at!

He was horizontally-challenged,
yet quite pleased with himself,
and I snorted and coughed,
not wanting to shame the old elf.

His quick little wink
and the smile on his face
Made my heart to soon know
that no mirth's out of place.

He silently strode,
and he worked with aplomb,
He filled ev'ry corner
with gifts and then some.

Then starting to pick
at his nose made him blush,
And checking himself
ran to the flue in a rush.

He jumped on his sleigh,
snapped his fingers and then,
clapped his hands for the
dome light had come on, again.

But I heard him express
as he rushed to next stop,
"Happy Christmas to all!
Enjoy your breakfast at IHOP!"

by Jay O'Toole
(with apologies to Clement Clark Moore)
on Christmas Day,
December 25th, 2017