Heather Merry
I am so sorry
You’re gone hurry
With your lorry
Near by the ferry
Were eyes cherry?

Heather Merry
I am so sorry
I like yours diary
And dress of hurry
Don’t go on jury
Is it Tom and Jerry?

Heather Merry
I am so sorry
You look like fairy
Having some berry
Really, that’s worry…!

Sorry if you mind it funny
Vexren4000 Mar 14

The fingerprints of children,
Imprinted on the glass.
Long grown into adults,
Being forced to march and grind away.
The youth that was once so easily seen,
Now faded in a darkened dream.
Age now all they know.
'All we know
All the universe has ever known.

Vexren4000 Mar 13

Merry fairies rumored of in fables,
Flying gracefully through trees and minuscule flowers.
A sea of color bursts forth as they pass.
Color only a child may see,
As the fairies only seems to want to be seen
By the ones who will not be believed.

May the colourful Christmas lights
Radiate joy,  show delightful sights
And soon bring to an end
The ever-widening violent trend.  
May there be no fearful threats
Of brutal, bloody fights,
No dark clouds of deadly smoke,
No pungent smell of burning sulphur,
No deafening thunder of terrible gunfire,
No ugly scenes of ruined homes
And piteous orphans' cries
And parents' heart-rending wails,
No sorrow that dims the light
In anyone's eyes.
May the light of knowledge and wisdom
Illumine the path to happiness,
May the light of joy and love
Sparkle in everyone's eyes
In every humble home.  
May the divine voice of Jesus Christ
Lead all mankind from darkness to Light.
              **       M.G.N.Murthy,
Hyderabad, India

* This is a revised version of my earlier poem "FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS."
Nigel Finn Dec 2016

I may be slightly merry
Or even pretty pissed
You might even say I'm wellied
(I'm sure you get the jist!)
And I may now talk like thish-ish
And be completely off my tits
But I'll wish you a  merry Christmas
Because I love you guys to bits.

Broken Dec 2016

Merry Christmas and God bless
And yes I still love you
As my last teardrop turns to a snowflake
I have nothing left to lose
I wish I could give you the world
And a life together to live
But a few broken peices of my heart
Is all I have to give...

EJ Aghassi Dec 2016

Astronomical solitude

Pinpointing the proximity
Between you and everyone else

The biting cold the perfect compliment
To the warmth that never felt so lacking

It's the most lonely time of the year

Merry Christmas.

Impossible not to love her
And this she already knows
Using this in her advantage
Bugging us as she goes

Impossible not to tell her
How she’s obsessively nosy
But she doesn’t have to be sad
Her laughter’s so damn cozy

Impossible not to show her
That she is one of a kind
Wish to play and replay her
Until I’m tired to hit rewind

Impossible not to fill her
On the alien that she is
Can’t have been born in this world
Outmost clever humorist

Impossible not to spoil her
Keenly fond of our sweet doll
She’s so cheerful, she’s so joyous
The name Merry says it all

Jami Samson May 2013

It is for the reason we think and think and think,
That the finishing line seems to shrink and shrink and shrink.
Their trophies and our consolation prizes, we always link
To the faces of where it matters not if we stink.

We grope and grope, but never look;
Only offer our eyes to reference books,
Pay our lives to learn how they sit and smile and dress and cook,
When we could carve out crafts of our own on hippocampus walls to hook.

Charts and charts of sound waves go farther than needed into the ear,
But in this statistic, there are more of those which we are deaf to hear.
Then we wonder, perhaps they will listen if we talk our fear through beer.
What we cannot, we must preach, so in the morning it’ll all be clear.

Putting on several mouths, sincerity seldomly salivates in our tongues.
And all we ever scream about, we let clump and clog in our lungs.
Our voices, we swallow, then verbalize universal dung.
Is that easier than to allow our singularity be hung?

To possess such delicate bones under thick coats of flesh and skin,
One little sting, we crumble as if our framework isn't as fortified as tin.
But sometimes when too stung, we rigidify and our cutis turns lean.
Our pores, too open, that even what doesn't exist, we welcome in.

And so, we stick to our lifelong work of homemade bibles,
And add commandments every time we build stables,
Along with valuables from the places in people’s fables.
Only us can decide to make room for new tables.

#21, May.27.13
Trevon Haywood Dec 2015

Merry Christmas!
To all of my friends
Of Massachusetts!

Anonymous 12/25/2015.

Christmas time for me!
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