North Pole Rock N Roll

Way up north
At the North Pole
Where it’s 0 degrees
And the cold wind blows

Stands now Santa
In the falling snow
Go get that reindeer
With the nose that glows

One of Santa’s elves
Was packing his sleigh
He bumps a boom box
And it begins to play

Next thing you know
It was in his soul
His feet started moving
To the sound of rock n roll

Up and down
And around he bopped
He lost control
He couldn’t stop

The reindeer saw
The way he hopped
And begin to sway
To the sound of rock

Donder and Dancer
And Comet and Blitzen
Began moving those feet
Just like Vixen

Roudolph and Dasher
And a red nose that glowed
Said look Cupid and Prancer
His nose is blinking to the rock n roll

The other elves too
As the music played
Were dancing rock n roll
As they loaded that sleigh

Said now Santa
Martha, come dance with me
You got to do it like this
You’ve got to feel the beat

The next thing you know
It was time to go
Santa left in that rock n roll sleigh
Merry Christmas and a Ho Ho Ho!

Copyright 2006 Bill Simmons
AKA BillWilliamStar

by Bill Simmons

Comments (5)

I thought, beautiful.
Eerily brilliant, an intermingling, concatenating swirl of images, the being of one thing merging with another, the leaves, the fire, the wind, the tails of the peacocks and the dark hemlocks like some portent of evil, the onset of night, the onset of the dark and his fear - was that also the peacocks fear, were the peacocks crying as part of the hemlocks or against the hemlocks, in fear of the night. One can imagine him sitting in a fire lit room at dusk with the wind and the autumn leaves and the peacocks and the night and the hemlocks, a nature poem to be sure, I get an inkling of what Gray sees in him. A bit scary. I like this poem, the concatenating interfusing imagery is splendid, the fire and it's flames, the leaves and the bushes, the tails of the peacocks, all turning in the wind, all blending together sharing essential elements of their being with each other, the loudness of the peacocks reflected by the loudness of the fire, the plaintive mournful cry of the peacocks reflecting his fear of the darkness his fear of the striding hemlocks of the onset of night of the coming of death, everything caught up together in the wind, even the planets themselves and him wondering whether the peacocks too feel some of his fright. Lovely stuff.
I really don't know why but this left a silly smile on my face, and a crying feeling in my heart - it's so great to love (live) the poetry..
I would suggest that this poem is about mortality.
A powerful cluster of images. Stevens is describing an extremely difficult moment; perhaps a confrontation with depression or anxiety or both. He finishes the first sentence—a curious combination of the matter-of-fact and the confused—and he seems to want to go back and proof it for accuracy. He answers his own doubts about that sentence with a “Yes, but.” And he says the hemlocks were striding, and he remembered the cry of the peacocks. From there the mood goes into an uncontrolled downward spiral. He seems to panic. Peacocks make a very distinctive and plaintive sound, much like a woman or a child crying “help” in the distance. At night it would be exactly the opposite of comforting. The poet-narrator says their cry becomes “loud as the hemlocks, ” and by the time we reach the last few lines, the sentence “I felt afraid” seems grossly understated. The terror is palpable. And once again, the poet-narrator remembers the cry of the peacocks. He is inconsolable. We are never certain of what specifically the narrator fears, but it seems to be a vague and pervasive feeling of impending doom. It is a fear stirred by the commonplace (leaves in the wind, the reflection of firelight on the walls) , intensified with a glimpse into the infinite (when the poet-narrator sees “how the planets gathered/ Like the leaves themselves”) and confirmed when the poet-narrator “saw how the night came…striding.” There is no escape, he is trapped.