Lone Dog


The Thing That's Wrong With Christmas


The thing that's wrong with Christmas is
It's based on get not give.
And most who give but do not get
React with expletives.

There are a few who give and yet
Want nothing in return.
But they're a breed so rare that they've
A place in Glory earned.

The stores proclaim that Christmas is
'The giving time of year',
For when we give, the stores all get,
Then grin from ear to ear.

Their Christmas ads so feed our greed
And further twist our minds,
That most believe, by owning things,
That happiness we'll find.

But Christmas greed hurts kids the most.
They're taught how not to live.
They wake up eager Christmas morn
To get instead of give.

Bah Christmas!
Bah Humbug!

Submitted: Sunday, September 06, 2009

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Thing That's Wrong With Christmas by Lone Dog )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. bonnie to your clyde, Mandolyn ...
  2. Purpose Of Life!, Geetha Jayakumar
  3. Corridors, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  4. My Forever Crying Angel, Vlad Mutuleanu
  5. ThankYou!, Geetha Jayakumar
  6. let the wild rumpus start!, Mandolyn ...
  7. Day 28 of July 2014, Erica Borges
  8. Keep on the Sunny Side, Joseph Narusiewicz
  9. Switches …… [NOT just for electrician.., Bri Edwards
  10. there's heaven on the plains and freedom.., Mandolyn ...

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]