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We are the face of Christmas
If you’ll look inside you’ll see
In a place where only children hide
That’s where the face will be.

The Christmas bell ringing on the door
As I exit the small downtown store on 5th and Main.
It reminds me once again that it is Christmas.
On the sidewalk a cold North wind flushes my cheeks red,
I tighten my scarf tighter around my neck.

I round a corner and just across the street I see several
Gathered around a large table, all waiting in a line.
Curious, I cross the street and take up my place.
I look around the line to see a sign that says –

“The Real Santa Clause- $1.00”

One by one people step up to the old man behind
The table and hand him a dollar –
The old man reaches into a large red bag under the table
And produces a small doll of Santa Clause.

One step at a time I move closer to the old man until
It is almost my turn to give him a dollar.
I watch as those in front of me walk away with their doll,
Each one walking a few steps away and then they abruptly stop,
Looking back to the old man, their eyes with a questioning awe.

It’s my turn – finally - I step up to the table with my dollar in my hand.
I hold out my dollar and then it becomes clear to me that the old man is blind
For I have to find his open hand to place the dollar into.
He accepts the payment and opens the red bag feeling for my prize.

The old man chants “Merry Christmas” as he hands me the doll
Seeming to talk more to the doll than he was to me.
Receiving the doll I repay the emotion returning the “Merry Christmas.”
The old man nodding his head as if to say yes all the while.

Walking away I look down at the Santa Clause figure in my hand.
I notice one piece of clothing that doesn’t seem to fit.
The doll has a scarf wrapped around its head.
It’s a tiny copy of...
Of the scarf that I am wearing!

Quickly I unwrap the scarf from Santa’s face and find –

The face on my Santa

IS ME

We are the face of Christmas
If you’ll look inside you’ll see
In a place where only children hide
That’s where the face will be.
Hopefully this piece will remind all of us what Christmas is really about.
 Dec 2017 MARIA PANOUTSOU
Cné
~
O Painter
with thy own eye
                        would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
            and blemishes true

Load thy brush
                      with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
                  bethought, in deep

With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
                  and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
               of deep forest green

O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
       and the indigo moon.

Paint me as i standeth,
       prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might

Paint me in the optimistic
                             silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
                              of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal

O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
                            in a rainy drizzle

Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken

Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
         with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon

O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
                               in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
             of a quite quaint butterfly

Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
                to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.

Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******

Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;

Study mine own dry sorrow
                              in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.

O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print

Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too

~
When I paint, I’m never quite satisfied as I see all my mistakes, blemishes and colors not quite right. I tend to keep painting to try and get it all right. At some point, I arrive with the conclusion, if I keep going I’m going to mess it up. I stand across the room and, it’s then that I’m amazed at what I have created. I like to think that I’m seen in the same way by my creator.
 Mar 2017 MARIA PANOUTSOU
Colm
My 51
 Mar 2017 MARIA PANOUTSOU
Colm
The government has it's secrets
And so do I
We all are deep and in depth creatures
Capable of living both very public
And yet very private lives

And yet every once and awhile in time
I'm astounded by what is that I find
In my own life

That I've been trying and far more confident
In the standards which I set for myself
And now that I'm there without sense of self
I no longer wish nor want to comply
This is. PAUSE
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