How to Host a Poet’s Holiday: A Guide For Any Tree and Any Gathering
I. A Poetry Advent(ure) Calendar: Twenty-Five Days of a Haiku Holiday
25. December awakes--
already late to its own party
24. as winds howl,
barn owls greet the season of silent nights
23. the season’s first snowfall--
Puss in Boots winks from the mantle
22. the potluck writers’ dinner--
some poems work, some poems don’t
21. an empty chair by the window—
soft winds welcome a muse of no known address
20. unsent holiday cards gather dust--
a Forever stamp nowhere to be found
19. grandma unpacks last year’s
tissue paper—then blows a kiss to grandpa
18. at the Christmas flea–
ghosted widows browse relics
of yesterday’s tomorrow
17. holiday pop-up shops–
aisles of untested
memories
16. a box of Christmas haiku--
you never know what you’re gonna get
15. dressing the holiday table–
offstage, vintage silverware
prepares for opening day
14. before the morning rush,
like blackbirds on phone wires,
miracles come into full blush
13. a Christmas scare--
nobody recognizes aunty
in her nightgown
12. ornamental doves
flap imaginary wings
as grandpa snores tree-side
11. noise-cancelling headphones--
the holiday table’s most appreciated guest
10. Is Denny’s still open 24/7;
everyone leaves Grandma’s house hungry
9. shrunken ugly sweaters--
Oops, I forgot to set the dryer to delicates
8. pre-dawn nightmares--
lucid dreaming relatives’ early arrival
7. polka dot ties, plaid good-byes,
that’s what holidays are made of
6. early morning run--
jog my memory’s to-do list,
will it last?
5. the weather forecast--
everything’s coming up bright
4. empty cardboard boxes--
the hit of the children’s party
3. candy cane graffiti--
I <3 U
2. cinnamon sticks date meltaways--
XOXO
1. after days of red lights,
unanswered phones and oversized gnomes--
finally, finally home
beside
the Christmas tree--
I sneeze a new haiku
II. For the Get-Together: Twelve Hours of a Haiku Holiday
12. the ham--
buttered up and basted wasted,
mama’s new man
11. everything’s fine--
echoes from nana’s kitchen,
now empty
10. santa’s workshop--
elves barter for the early shift
9. by the hot water heater--
aunts debate the likelihood of nuptials
by next new (y)ears
8. aunties in holiday best--
varicose veins pose as reindeer
7. neighbors in flannel PJs--
one knock for sugar, two for eggs
6. Lincoln logs--
grandpa mourns the penny
5. lost marbles—
Uncle Joe and Cousin Fred
4. Mad Libs--
estranged DNA strands fill
in the blanks with fresh seasoning
3. fully extended dining
table leaves-- slippery when whet
for conversation
2. babes in Toyland teethe,
teeter, and tattle on elders
with lost teeth and false dentures
1. empty stockings, aching feet--
almost time to sleep
III. How to be the perfect guest
Leave no trails
Leave no crumbs
Leave no gravy droppings
Leave no napkins unturned
Leave no plates unanswered
Leave no questions empty-handed
Leave no dirty dish (uncles permitted) abandoned
Leave the noise-cancelling headphones on
Leave, leave before the evening news turns off
IV. Holiday wonderings—
does egg nogg
envy hot chocolate
does fruit punch
crave a plot line
do doves
resent the hustle
of air traffic
V. Holiday To-Do’s
Trim fat. Stuff holes. Plug (y)ears.
Turn on (up) the heat.
Repeat. Repeat after me--
“Happy Holidays!”
Wrap boxes. Trace circular questions.
Dodge zingers. Nod, but do not answer
to anyone.
VI. an eco-friendly Christmas
pass the casserole
pass the football
pass the candle
pass the butter
pass the Chex
pass the key
to Santa’s
EV
VII. How to Gift a Poem
In this spirited season of giving thanks and gifting just about everything, it’s easy to forget the power of a Bic pen and a No 2 pencil. Both hold far more utility (and originality) than service as a basic recipe reminder or to-do list generator. So, as the tinsel (and turkey stuffing) settle into place, why not gift a poem for the hardest person on your holiday shopping list? Read on for a gift-giving exercise in place and, in this season of generosity, tread into new poetic territory.
Ready. Set. Shop for the Perfect Poem
1. For the friend you haven’t caught up with in a while:
an epic on themes of work, family, and friendship
2. For the nature lover:
a haiku painted on a rock or tied to a bare branch
3. For the friend who loves to talk on the phone:
a collaborative piece grounded in elaborative,
and possibly reflective, conversation
4. For the rule-follower: a formal piece;
perhaps a sonnet, a sestina, or a ghazal.
Can’t choose? Gift one of each. They’re free!
5. For the crossword lover:
fill in the blank verse
6. For the romantic:
a Shakespearean sonnet
7. For the workplace villain:
a villanelle (they’ll never know)
8. For the introvert:
a hermit crab (masquerading as a favorite comfort food recipe
or the table of contents of a beloved fairy tale from childhood)
9. For the chef:
cook up a new form with non-rhyming verse
10. For the tech-savvy:
a poem created with a random word generator for inspiration
11. For an estranged uncle:
an erasure that lets him know he might not be at the holiday dinner table,
but he’s not forgotten
12. For the minimalist:
a six-word story or a micro
13. For the rule-breaker:
a free verse piece on their favorite infraction
14. For the meat eater:
a concrete in the shape of their favorite cut
15. For the beach lover:
a golden shovel
16. For the newly engaged:
a series of couplets
17. For the teacher:
an abecedarian on any topic or related to any discipline
The barber? The office gossip? The office scrooge? The dog walker? There’s endless poetry opportunity.
But wait! Don’t simply gift the poem, make sure to wrap it with sensory details that capture what you love most about the recipient. Title it with all the things! For the naysayer, shift the tone. For the music-lover, emphasize rhythm. For the Tik Tok influencer, affirm the desire to riff on (and off) anything. For the person who already has everything, embrace the sparseness of form.
Not only is it fun, but there’s no wasted paper and no labels are needed. Regifting is encouraged. Pass on bows and wrappings, avoid lines and line endings that please. Any kind of delivery will do – tuck the poem in an email, on a piece of scrap paper, or on the back of a napkin (preferably unused). The best part—it’s eco-friendly (no wrap territory) and inexpensive therapy.
Wishing all a happy, poetry-themed holiday.
Jennifer Schneider is a community college educator who lives, works, and writes in small spaces in and around Philadelphia.
