Christmas Raven
Once during an online query, while I struggled to see clearly
Through unwanted pop-ups from disgusting dating scenes,
While I plotted Google mapping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my plasma screen.
“Just my speakers,” I muttered, “clicking – not my plasma screen –
Only this; or it’s a dream.”
Ah, distinctly I remember! It was early in December
And each separate credit lender wrought its ghost in threatened liens.
Desperately I feared tomorrow – vainly I had sought to borrow
To avoid some Christmas sorrow – sorrow for bleak Christmas scenes,
For the thought of dear, old Santa leaving us bleak Christmas scenes.
A Christmas nightmare! Not a dream!
And the strangest light unbidden rose from somewhere deeply hidden
Chilled me – filled the room and held it all within a verdant sheen
So that now to still the beating of my heart I stood repeating
“Just some chat room friends entreating entrance with some subroutine --
Some chat room friends entreating entrance with some subroutine.
This it is; or it’s a dream.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Hello?” typed I, “Who is this? I must admit your message went unseen.
‘Cause the truth is, I was mapping, and so strangely you came zapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping on my plasma screen,
That I scarce was sure I heard you.” Here I closed my Windows screens.
Darkness there. Was it a dream?
Deep into that darkness peering, long I sat there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams beyond what Christmas shoppers dare to dream;
And the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
Then two single words were spoken, just the whispered words, `ice cream!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, `ice cream!'
Surely this is just a dream!
Back unto my PC turning, all my soul within me burning,
And just then I heard a rapping, bass beat loud and words obscene.
“The street,” said I, “surely that is from beyond my window lattice;
Let me see what neighbor that is, and which deafness stricken teen –
Let my heart be still a moment to see which deafness stricken teen –
Just some neighbor’s careless teen!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there hopped a stately raven from some sixties’ horror scene.
Not the least good greetings made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my plasma screen –
Perched upon a framed sci-fi prop, just above my plasma screen –
Perched and sat – and stared at me.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of its countenance, it preened.
“Though your crest is bare and shaven, you,” I said, “are sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from some horror scene –
Tell me what your TV name is in tonight's fantastic dream!”
Quoth the raven, “More ice cream!”
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy seen;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his plasma screen –
Bird or beast atop the sci-fi prop above his plasma screen,
With such name as `More ice cream.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid prop, spoke only,
Those three words, as if his soul in those three words had been borne clean.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
Till I scarcely more than muttered “December’s not for Halloween –
You belong to bleak October; December’s not for Halloween.”
Then the bird said, “More ice cream.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters has no literary mean.
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs had come between –
‘til the dirges of his hope that melancholy come between –
the raven had no more ice cream.”
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and prop and screen;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird could mean –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird could mean –
Mean in croaking “More ice cream.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my own of green;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining where the strange light cast its sheen
Oh, whose velvet violet lining where the strange light cast its sheen
He shall not spill ‘more ice cream.’
Then it seemed the air grew denser, patrolled by some unseen sensor
Hung by costumed men whose footfalls hid within my plasma screen.
“Crap!” I cried, “the feds have tracked me! Found the places where I hacked free
Presents – presents, even packed free, for to place around my tree.
Crap, oh crap, this black beguiler! Now I’ll have no Christmas tree.”
Quoth the raven, “More ice cream.”
“Traitor!” said I, “thing of evil! – traitor still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest sent you here to me,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, what you mean.
Is there – is there something to ice cream? Tell me! Tell me what you mean!”
Quoth the raven, “More ice cream.”
“Traitor!” said I, “thing of evil! – traitor still, if bird or devil!
By that jolly dear old Santa – by that gracious man we all esteem –
Tell this soul with empty pockets and a thing for shiny rockets,
Tell me or I’ll lick the sockets! What’s the truth in ‘more ice cream’?”
I really swear I’ll lick the sockets! What about that ‘more ice cream’?”
Quoth the raven, “More ice cream.”
“Crazy bird!” I shouted, starting down the stairs and quickly darting
Off to find a carton of my favorite rocky road ice cream.
And one feather as a token of the crazy words he’d spoken
Glided downward to the bowl I’d come to offer to this dream.
“Take your feather out this bowl! And take your form from off my screen!”
Quoth the raven, “More ice cream.”
As I watched, he started changing, rearranging, rearranging;
He broke the prop of sci-fi fandom just above my plasma screen;
And his eyes, they started glowing, and his belly started growing
And his feathers turned to clothes of fluffy red and white and cream,
Then before me dear ol’ Santa asked for rocky road ice cream!
He left me gifts – for more ice cream!
Now I know this sounds absurdly otherwordly -- Otherworldly!
But I swear no brighter Christmas ever came like such a dream.
Santa filled my empty pockets, and he even gave me rockets
That I sold to pay my lenders off to end their shady credit schemes.
Yes, I paid off all my lenders and their shady credit schemes!
Thank the stars for “More ice cream!”
-2008, D Kraft
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