Reading with Rex – Poem

 

The cold winter air hits my skin

Though I’ve been outside for so long

That I barely can even feel it anymore.

The shadow of the statue above me

Is shading the book in my lap.

 

Despite the fact that the lights are

Blinding me each and every time I look up.

I’m content as I lean against the cold material,

I don’t even know what he’s made of.

 

All I know is that my voice is echoing

In the empty night,

The only one to hear me is Rex,

The statue who listens to me read.

 

I’m not sure why I feel content,

Maybe it’s the air that I can’t even feel.

Perhaps even the book in my lap

Or my voice as I am overly aware of it.

 

It’s not my bed that I feel most at home

Not even that house I barely know

But moments like these,

When Rex is the only one to hear

My thoughts, it’s almost as though he is my family.

 

Despite the fact that you can walk passed the colorful wall,

Through the alleyway between the buildings,

And directly in front to the building that I call my room.

It is not my home, despite everything.

Instead it is a spot underneath the statue,

Being protected by his strength

And invisible to all those who do not listen to his roar.

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There Will Not Be a Santa Claus in My Home.

 

Hello guys,

 

So I have written poems about this large, red clothed man that goes by the name of Santa Claus and lives in the North Pole. I am not going to deny that as a child, I was not grown up  raised to believe in this mythical man who would grant all my wishes. I was introduced this man and I was a believer.

 

In fact, as a child, during those years when children were beginning to realize the truth, I was still holding onto the belief. My mother fondly tells a story of one Christmas when I wrote a letter to Santa.

 

I asked him for a bell from a Reindeer, a picture of Santa, and some other stuff in my attempt to prove Santa was real. I even put the letter into the mail box so that mom wouldn’t find it but she did.

 

That Christmas, I had all of my wishes fulfilled from that letter and for awhile, I whole heatedly believed it was true until I found the letter in her drawer one day. I was so mad, mad at mom, mad at myself. The truth hit me full force and while I do understand why she did this, she wanted me to continue believing just a little while longer, I was still upset.

 

As time went by, I realized more reasons as to why Santa was a harsh lie to every child in the world. It promised that you would get all of your gifts on your wish list and while I was fortunate enough for this to happen, a lot of children were not.

 

I do not want my child to believe in something only for her to be hurt when I can not fulfill this gift. For example, there is this ridiculous gift called a hatchimal that a lot of children put on their wishlist and it has come to where all of the stores have run out of it forcing people to turn to hatchimals that are being sold for $400-600 dollars and that is not something I would ever spend my money on.

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The idea of not giving my child something saddens me but if someone believes in Santa they are going to believe that they are going to get everything on their wishlist because they were a good kid. I do not want my kid to feel as though she wasn’t good enough to get a gift from Santa when other kids might get it.

 

Besides the fact that I don’t want my child to be hurt by a fictional character, I also want to promote Christmas as a holiday supporting family and friends where we thank them for being apart of our lives. I want to promote Christmas as an event that says,

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The trees, the decorations, and the gifts will all be apart of my family’s Christmas but Santa Claus will never be. I want my children to understand that their gifts are from their family and not some “fictional guy” who will probably hurt them in the end.

I understand that their friends will hear of Santa Claus and I will come up with something when that time comes but there will not be a Santa Claus in my home.