Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I've manned the Christmas Kettle
Every year for twenty seasons
I don't tell people why I do it,
But, you know I have my reasons

It's makes me feel so special
Doing something that's just right
I man it from round 5 till 12
And almost every night

It gets cold out there ringing
My bell, for all to hear
I do it for my charity
One I hold so dear

Each year I've been out hustling
Getting more each year than last
I don't know how long I'll keep it up
The time's gone by so fast

I don't do lights at home at all
I do not have a tree
But I'm out there with my kettle
Ringing loud where folks can see

This year it was amazing
I brought in much more than before
I changed where I was ringing
I was not out by a store

The folks at where I donate
couldn't believe how much I got
In fact they got rid of my kettle
And gave me a large ***

It's the most they've ever had brought in
By any volunteer
I know it will be hard to beat
But, I'll try again next year

I'll tell you how I did it
I didn't use a gun or knives
I just rang my bell outside a strip bar
And told the men I'd tell their wives

Seems to work a treat for  me
I keep their secret and don't tell
And they pay me off in fifties
I just stand and ring my bell.
 Dec 2012 Gnirednaw
Chloe Sayre
Find me dancing on your shadow,
I'll be leaning on the turn.
I dream of you, for Heaven's sake. On starlit nights,
you're far away.

I call out.
To whom I do not know.

My mind dwells in distance.
My thoughts collide and trail off, out of cities;
careening ships through mist and pine.

I try to catch my balance on your eyelids as I
push down,
heavy on swollen, blue skin;
Slipping on lashes wet with
memories
that you will not share with me,
and I dare not ask about them
because I'm scared of losing my footing.

I feel your darkness like a blanket,
while I wish it would
pummel me like a flood.

Tell me, I want to know, what have you seen, boy?
Certainly war,
crushed fingers and toes;
red rivers.

What have you felt?
Certainly love, warmth, and kindness;
red satin garments.

Come on,
you've seen this before and your pulse still lingers.
Irregular,
scattered
and a little too strong, but still.

I know you've been there before,
where the fear is asphyxiating,
and sudden as a red fox in the wood.

I know you know every corner,
every thicket,
every red flag of romance.

and sometimes,
that lost love,
she palpates,
sticky in your throat.

Will you ever let me dance there,
or is that air still coarse and salty on your tongue?

Are you ever home?
Because I knock and knock on your splintered door
and I throw stones to your shattered windows
and I sleep on your scorched, frost-bitten yard

and I wait.
With impeccable patience, I wait.

I do because
sometimes behind your silence,
at that particular time of night,

you know the time,

when the moon howls at the wolf,
when the mist makes love to the pines,
and the field mouse cries,
and it is so cold,

I have to dance on your shadow,
follow the turn.
Far, far away from ego and hate and cold, steel buildings;
just a little bit adrift, hopeful, and dreamy, too.

I can't resist.
I have learned to lean,
a whirling dervish on your breeze.
 Dec 2012 Gnirednaw
Tim Benjamin
These cracks in my heart are like a road map back to the start
To when i found my first love
Or so i thought
We sat on a hill side waiting for the stars to shine
Slowly watching the sun grow smaller in the distance
And in this instance
I feel love
But soon i realized the sun was gone
There were no stars or fireflies to ignite the night sky
The sky was left dark
And the air became cold
And the love i once felt became a realization that i was still alone
But you can be alone without being lonely right?
Or does it mean that every night when i fall asleep
Trying to fight the tears and the fears of being alone
That nobody cares
Nobody is there to share my hopes and my dreams
Or stand witness to the fact that my life
The life of a hopeless romantic with nothing more then a pen and a piece of paper
Is important
But what can be more unimportant than a romantic poet with no one to love?
You've read my rant from yesterday
About those Christmas Letters
But one thing just disturbs me
Those Ugly Christmas Sweaters!!!

You know the ones we love to hate
They're  all so scratchy and they itch
You can barely get the **** thing on
And to remove it...it's a *****!!

Pictures of things Christmassy
Like a reindeer all in red
Mine looks like an emaciated cow
with a candelabra on his head

Snowflakes, trees and Norway Spruce
and colours....oh my lord
They can take them back to Norway
and throw them in the fjord!!!

My nan made one for me one year
It was silver with some blue
Turns out she used old brillo pads
Because she liked the soapy hue

They itch and scratch and don't fit right
They are a cancer to my eyes
I had one in green and red
With one sleeve down past my thighs

I thought it was a jumpsuit
The kind the paratroopers wear
The pattern pages stuck together
And that sleeve....went down to there!!!

We all have one hidden away
In a box, 'neath lock and key
In a place so nicely hidden
One we've had since we were three

We never plan to wear one more
We all know that we once  did
but, if we had to wear one out
We're gonna buy one for our kids!!!

If you need to get assistance
go to uglysweaters dot o- r- g
They can help you with your wardrobe
Tell them you heard of them from me.
 Dec 2012 Gnirednaw
emma joy
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if my fantasies came true and we were together. I wonder how we would spend our days.
I’d wake up in the morning to see your face on the pillow next to me. To see you wrapped in the cream linen sheets
the comforter fallen to the floor.
To hear the rising song of our alarm and to have
you reach your arm over
slamming the top and turning back to me with a defeated smile.
I wonder
what it would be like to force myself to get up from that bittersweet moment and put on my blouse and skirt and
get ready to face the day.
Always asking myself
why
for the perfect day would be to stay in bed all day next to you.
I wonder
what it would be like if you cooked me breakfast with smiley face pancakes and a tall glass of oj. And the delighted smile on your face as I compliment your apron.  
And to see you drive. The wind blowing our hair from the windows
cranked down.
Your sunglasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of your nose and
your hand gracefully placed on the top of the rolled down window.
Running your fingers through your hair and me wishing to do the same.
The music softly playing in the background making the moment seem more and more unrealistically perfect.
Maybe we’ll shop in those trendy villages like blue back square.
Just walking the streets together, not really even entering any stores. Just walking.
Pointing out interesting things in the windows.
Maybe we even touch hands for a short moment
and if I’m lucky
our fingers intertwine
and it seems casual to you
unawkward
natural.
Maybe we'll go to dinner and we just talk over pointless subjects and a flickering candle.
Then I don’t know what.
Maybe we walk again.
Under the night sky.
Seeing your beauty in glimpses of the city lights.
Maybe it starts to sprinkle maybe not.
We laugh at a pointless joke.
I love your laugh.
I love your smile.
I see your crisp blue eyes as we walk past a neon sign outside a dull bar and I realize that I love them more than I could fathom.
They look into me and see every little thing about me.
The good. The bad. My fears. My past.
I can sense that. And I can sense that you understand.
That you get it.
I realize that those eyes are the purest and most beautiful eyes on the planet.
Maybe I feel the need to tell you that.
Maybe after we laugh and smile we both realize that this is the moment that happens in movies. The one where they realize. The one where they fall in love.
The moment that happens after dinner and drinks by the streetlight’s corner.
In a hip city of artists and thugs.
Like us.
Exactly like us.
And we realize that we must follow through with the movie.
Follow through with the feeling of realization.
And then maybe our laughs and smiles drop
not completely, not seriousness, just pause.
And then maybe we look into each others eyes and slowly slip.
Run my fingers through your silky blonde hair
heads lean in.
I feel your lips against mine
I am truly happy.
I want to stay there in your arms forever.
We pull a part for a second
Catching breath
Opening eyes
You smile
And that is what I live for.
 Dec 2012 Gnirednaw
Danielle Rose
Wait what?....mind ninja!
                                                  You speak to me subliminally
with words
and imagery

                                                    Your views pushed unto me

Tricky Jedi

tickling my synapses


                                              The darker arts were never my cup of tea

no player your not fooling me
Next page