Thursday December 23, 2021 An Epic Pre-Christmas Poem from 1995

In 1994, Chairman Joe and I, 'Wannaska Writer,' started a newspaper/magazine on a whim, titled ,

The Raven: Northwest Minnesota's Original Art, History, & Humor Journal.      

We published it for 24 years.

This is a poem I wrote in 1995, a year later or thereabouts of December 23, 1994, the date we first talked about this wild idea of Joe's.

 

A Pre-Christmas Epic

A year has passed since December 23rd
Snow underfoot, made a noise, could be heard
As I walked to your porch in the dark that night
Fredrica, your guard dog laid waiting on the right

She leaped from the shadows, white fangs agape
Christmas or not, no strangers she’d take
No uniformed guys from the softener store
No Fed-Ex deliveries,
She couldn’t take it anymore

From ‘tweenst my eyes a blur did I see
A loud growl, a loud GRRR, scared the shit outa me
I was too scared to run, too old to fight
If I could’ve, I would’ve long through the night.

We’d a-wrestled and rolled, ‘cross the snow, down the bank
O’er the edge, on the ice, through a big hole we’d sank
‘Neathe the water we’d fight, n’er a breath we’d take
Not even then with our two lives at stake

We’d a-wrestled to Roseau, poppin’ up, poppin’ down
Beaver dams, log jams, an’ switch backs we’d round
Snarlin’ and bitin’, bloody scum would arise
Yowlin’ and growlin’, pokin’ each other’s eyes

We’d ‘ave done it you know, fought into the dawn
We’d rolled under cars and across the lawn
We’d ‘ave wrecked garden tillers and an old rider mower
Kickin’ an’ clawin’ the other all o’er

Meaner and meaner, on and on we’d fight
On through the afternoon, evenin’, and night
The names we’d grunt out. “Bitch” was one of course
I heard her call me, “You long-eared cousin of a horse!”

I began to regret, payin’ that late night visit
when deep in my pocket
 I found a leftover dog biscuit

A serendipitous find from an afternoon romp
With four of my dogs an’ my daughter we stomped
Not an inch of white snow was there left around
The dogs, me and Bonny, ran all over the ground

Biscuits are treats, that Bonny won’t munch
But me and the dogs like their crunchety-crunch
We ate them all day, til not a doggone one left
The dogs were depressed; me sad and bereft

But of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life,
that have caused me regret, ill repute, and strife.
That left-over dog biscuit alone in the dark,
in my pocket it rested, did a friendship it spark.

Twixt this killer, this beast,
This guard dog named Fred
Who’d ‘ave ripped out my throat
Ate my heart, made me dead

And myself, Wannaska Writer
Who just wanted to say,
Happy Raven C J
On this 23rd day.