Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2017
Valsa George
The poor boy knew Christmas beckoning at the door
He saw every house bright with many a lamp
And streets illumined with colorful lights and stars
But his tiny hut looked dismal n’ dark like a prison camp

With a suppressed sigh, he inhaled the festive air
His little heart grew weary and dim
There has never been a merry Christmas in his life
As the days advanced, he grew moody and glum

He, born into a cheerless, crammed shack
With parents so poor having very little means
To bring up their children and foster a family of seven
At a tender age, saw shattered all his budding dreams

Year after year, he had seen the city in dazzling lights
But never once on Christmas he could feel any glee
While the rest of the world partook of umpteen delights
Never his heart, from sorrowful thoughts, was free

When children of his age feasted on roasted turkey and ham
And their mothers baked Christmas cookies and cakes
He and his siblings had to be content with a meager fare
That left their cheeks wet with saline drops pooled in their eyes

Their house in winter was too damp and cold
No blankets had they to keep themselves warm and snug
They lay huddled together in biting chill
On the wooden floor on a worn out woolen rug

One evening, on a leisurely walk from school
The boy saw a man selling colorful balloons
With the little penny tucked safely in his trouser pocket
He bought a balloon and headed straight to the lagoons

There as he sat on the sprawling silver sands
A strange idea had come upon his little head
To send a letter to Heaven asking for some urgent help
Hoping Jesus would help, he too being born a poor kid

On a white paper he carefully scribbled these lines:
“Merciful God, look upon us, this miserable seven
Here in our humble hovel, we die of hunger and cold
On this Christmas, send us a little cheer up from heaven”

He folded the paper and fastened it to the balloon
Nevertheless he didn’t forget to put his full address
When the wind was strong, he let it go off his hands
And watched it soar high with his earnest plea for redress

Days went by and the awaited Christmas Eve arrived
While the world splurged in all gaiety and merriment
The poor hut remained dull and cheerless as before
The helpless parents were lost in grim bafflement

Abruptly, there halted a Mercedes before the hut
A man, old and graying with a graceful smile
Alighted with his hands loaded with Christmas gifts
Looking for the boy, he had travelled many a mile

It was during one of his daily strolls around the lagoon
That the gentleman saw a balloon suspended on a willow tree
The white paper tied to it made him curious
He took it up and saw an innocent’s earnest plea

The man so rich and kind was moved at heart,
He from his wealth decided to donate a large sum
To support that family of seven in dire straits
And give them the merriest Christmas with no trace of gloom

The little boy believed Jesus had answered his prayer
He came in the guise of a man, he had never before seen
With rising delight, he saw a star in the graying sky
It shone right over his head with a brighter sheen
Wish all my Hello Poetry friends the peace and joy of Christmas!
 Dec 2017
Melissa S
I may have forgotten some things about you
but there are some things I could never forget
They are ingrained in all I do...
I wear green as much as I can
It's my favorite color because it shows
off my green eyes that I inherited from you
You always said my eyes and smile are my best features
I can still see your long legs in the bathtub
Bent in like a happy frog just trying to relax
Yet you still had time for a conversation with me
I wish I would have inherited those long legs of yours :)
I wash my face with nozema
because when I smell it I think of you
When Christmas comes around I buy Andes
chocolate mints and make spice tea
because they both remind me of you
As long as I live and breathe
you will always be remembered
I love and miss you always ~ Dear Mama
Merry Christmas
Could never forget my Mama especially this time of year so wanted her to know I was thinking of her... always ❤️
 Dec 2017
SG Holter
Ode to a Norwegian mother.


How did you get to be so strong?
I shake my head in disbelief
At how she carries gold and grief
All day; all night-time long.

A silver crown upon her hair;
Those strands of grey now shine.
They speak of struggles; mother's
Fears. I wish that hers were mine.

I ask her: "Share that weight with me.
I know your legs are worn and sore."
But men have tried and failed before;
She says: "It's mine, just leave it be."

She'll pick the sun down from the
Skies. She'll sing until the ocean cries. 
She'll shift the planets all at once,
To clear a path for her two sons

To rise as Kings of Time and Space, 
And guide this place from guilt to
Grace. She raises them to save the day.
I say: Let's not get in their way.
 Dec 2017
nivek
always at a certain place on the road
-passing ships in the night
somewhere to rest and break bread

poets are the best of lovers
living as they do
to share their poetry love

- on the road
travelling on
poets gypsy love.
 Oct 2017
Donna
Make your day lovely
Fill it with big happy smiles
And cups of coffee
Smiles and coffee :)
 Oct 2017
CJ Sutherland
If I can imagine it I can make it

Just as poetry flows freely

So does my need to create something

To take random objects
a doll dress made  Made out of
paper mache lace  lots of embellishments
Always the small imbellishments the small
Details that take it over the top

Crocheting a blanket from several different patterns creating an one of a kind original

A  fairy made of wire, a wooden ball embroidery thread and a silk flower

Victorian Dresden Christmas
ornaments from 1890 those are my favorite
In the olden days things were made by hand
They didn't have store bought ornaments they were keepsakes, memories of years gone By

I can see a picture then bring it to life
Or make it from an idea in my head

I have made something for all to see
it was within me and will always be

It's such a rush to have that Finnish project
Knowing I made that

It's strange to know so much creativity lives
Within me yet others can't do the same

They see a thing as it is  I see all the  possibilities
Of what it can become
Perhaps I'm making my own keepsake
I'm working on three different projects right now forget all the things I need to get done at the end of the day I get a chance to create something new after all isn't that what poets do?
 Oct 2017
Kenny Whiting
Oh what glorious day will be then
when the rapture finally comes;
When we're called up home to Heaven,
all our fighting here is done!

Be prepared for just that moment,
could be morning, night or noon;
Oh, to hear those trumpets sounding,
Heaven's Angels all in tune!

For that day the Heaven's open,
there's no time to say goodbye;
Hear those chariot wheels a soundin',
see My Savior in the sky!

Can you feel the anthem mounting
hear now Heaven's jubilee;
Can't you picture just that moment,
Angels far as eye can see?

Now the saints on Earth all ready,
for the dead in Christ to rise;
See a glimpse of happy faces,
headed Home beyond the skies!

You've not asked my Lord's forgiveness,
find your knees without delay;
Ask Him now to be your Savior,
for your sins the price is paid!

All the rich and poor now equal
doesn't matter wealth or fame;
When the roll is called up yonder
will my Jesus call YOUR name?
Next page