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Brent Kincaid Nov 2017
Christmas gifts in cheerful wrappings
Christmas trees with all the trappings
Hoping Santa got your letters.
Yummy family get-togethers.
Nobody wants to go to bed
To let sugarplums dance in their head.
Christmas time is for yearend fun.
The holidays are here for everyone.

It’s a happy time to share the joy
Whether adult or girls and boys
To look forward to, all year long
To join in singing the Christmas songs.
There is no school for many days
So the kids can go outside and play
To ski or have battles with snowballs.
Christmas time is the best of them all.

Some places people go outside and sled
And other people go to the beach instead
But not until they have stopped to see
Each present under the Christmas tree.
"Thank you" is said to all the gift givers
Then a wonderful meal they eat together.
“It’s A Wonderful Life” is showing on TV
And Charlie Brown gets a Christmas tree.

It’s a happy time to share the joy
Whether adult or girls and boys
To look forward to, all year long
To join in singing the Christmas songs.
There is no school for many days
So the kids can go outside and play
To ski or have battles with snowballs.
Christmas time is the best of them all.

Traditions like stockings with the names
And sometimes hilarious family games
Especially when relatives come to call
With eggnog and cookies consumed by all.
If there is snow or palm trees and sand
The best of times have been planned
So everyone can share the great cheer
Now that Christmas at last is here.
Adyasha Behera Sep 2017
'Look up, Pretty lady,
Your gown’s stained, so has your future
For you have cut yourself deep
With values and customs you couldn’t nurture’
Mocked the satirical society hard
Upon every girl that grew up strong
Willed to prove them all wrong
For many a lives laid back
Many a tears seeped through the skin
Until no more did they flow
‘We decide the course of wind
Enough to sail your raft of life
For storms come the path
Of those who drift apart'
The traditional society that wishes to see the daughters of Eve draped in the beliefs and truth it sets, would it ever let a girl live her life to the fullest?
Well that's a matter of thought.
jigyasa Jul 2017
oh Sun
i crave to bloom

i want to nourish myself
i want my petals to feel your grace
i wish to dip and dive elegantly
as calm currents turn to riveting ripples
and clean crisp breeze flutters my spirits

yet my roots hold tightly
an age old clasp
love them deeper than the ocean
an inexplicably intricate matter
more complex than the cosmos
protection from wind and drift
clenching me to the same reflection
and i cannot move
so i cannot bloom

dear Sun
i pray to you
Sally A Bayan Apr 2017
i am struggling
my sense-seeking mind, reasons
with my confused, but forgiving heart...
to go, or not to go,
to do...or not to do,
go with traditions...or start a change,
to be absent, ******

this battle exhausts me...though,
i any time, whatever i do,
especially, this lenten season
God is everywhere, i so feel Him,
He is near i think of Him...

it doesn't make me less of a Christian
i just have less things to do
this thursday, friday and saturday...
for, i opted for something else:

in my solitude, i would have---

E-NGAGE in contemplative be strong, to
A-VOID all kinds of meat i so hunger not be
T-ROUBLED, when tremors of the soul, seek to destabilize...

I know myself...i've come this far,
traditions may change, things may falter,
but, Faith in Him.....


Copyright April 14, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Lady Ravenhill Dec 2016
Candy houses with gumdrop lights
It's that time of year again
Toothache sweets and sugar coated lies
Eaten away in holiday traditions
Leaving empty rooms and gingerbread crumbs.
@ladyofravenhill 12/1/16
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
Once I believed in Santa
And the north pole was real.
The lights on the Christmas  tree
Could change the way I'd feel.
The standard kind of carols
Still make me reminisce
When everyone got friendly
And cheeks were happily kissed.

Sure, as I got to be older
Most of my gifts were clothes
But there were still lovely things
For eyes, and ears and nose;
The smell of turkey baking
And pecan and pumpkin pie.
Christmas music on the radio
Those Christmases gone by.

And later we went caroling
Some friends of me and mine.
We sang in lovely harmony
We all sounded very fine.
Back at home with egg nog
We often played  Monopoly.
We laughed and told jokes
A happy Yuletide family.

As time went on we changed
And some old traditions fell.
We threw out the silver tree
And tinsel went away as well.
We started to add to our growing
Collection of handmade things.
The colorful lights still twinkled
But the angel no longer had wings.

Times have gotten busier
So tempting to avoid the trip
But it’s only this once a year
So we don’t let this visit slip.
We keep these memories going
And talk about them each year
When the family comes back
For the holidays from far and near.
Ronald J Chapman Sep 2016
My dear haegeum,
You sing so beautifully,

You sound like a dream to me,
You are so very magical!

I'm only telling the truth,
When I say, I love you,

You are an instrument created by a Miracle,

How can I appreciate you more?
But to write these words about you,
And introduce you to the world,

The magical musician,
Tickles your strings,


Your two silk strings,
Tickle my ears with your eight voices,
The sounds of the Universe,
Gold, rock, thread, bamboo, gourd, soil, leather, and wood,

My dear haegeum,
You sing so beautifully.

Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

*The haegeum is a traditional Korean string instrument.
Sensation - Ccot-byel, Haegeum Player
Alisha Isabell Jan 2016
She tells me
Lumpia is her taste of home.
Traditions she had with her aunt when she was small
Hands *****,
Dark hair messy,
But she smiled as she hovered over the hot oil.

Halika dito, Come here.
Gutom ka ba? Are you hungry?

She tells me
Her mother
Would have her scrub her nails,
Before sending her to set the first few servings
In the oil to fry.

She tells me
That warm phillipian-lumpia memories
Have their own special place
In her heart,
In her mind.
On her tongue.
Warm times standing speckled with youth.

She speaks soft sweet days to me
As she hands me the tongs to place the first servings in the pan.
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015

Do you remember back when
Christmas was making things
Out of stiff colored paper
Like chains of slim paper rings
That were so long we took them
And wrapped the a few times
Around the tree as pretty trim?

We made angels and snowflakes
From something called shirt boards;
Cutouts covered with aluminum foil.
They didn’t need extension cords.
And Mom showed us how to starch
String we dyed. We wrapped it
Around some inflated balloons.
When each dried, we popped it.

We made reindeers and Santas
Our of wooden clothespins
With pipe cleaner antlers or
Cotton beards for Santa’s chin.
Mom dyed an old sheet green
For under the Christmas tree.
Prettier than the store-bought kind
It has always seemed to me.

In school we made Gifts too
Things knitted or made of clay
To give to Mom wrapped up
With great pride on Christmas Day.
And that wrapping paper was
Was all Christmas color tissue.
It was inexpensive to buy, so
Using a lot was not an issue.

Some gifts were appreciated
Some maybe not as much
But in every case, we were
For the most part very touched.
You knew for sure just by looking
What care and love went into
The handmade presents that were
Made totally and especially for you.

Brent Kincaid
Alan S Bailey Aug 2015
I was not aware of what "is in store,"
When is an art not unlike a tool?
If it can be used for nothing what then?
Is it a toy for plain simple fools?

"This is my logic, hear me now!"
I yell at empty skies so pale,
Let there be an answer for once,
This rhetorical question growing stale,
I ask "Why am I here? To make an impact?"
What then is this to ask when no one
Answers back? My plan for the next day:
To eat peanut butter sandwiches like new,
To hear the sound of my own mind from the blue,

Own mind: OF COURSE!!!

Forget it, I've thrown my's clear now you all
Think I'm the devil, till the end my reputation marred,
This will be the way of it, to be left looking so hysterical,
All I'm asking for the last time is this simple question:

**Where did I go so wrong trying to do the right thing...?
Is loneliness the end result of not wanting to fit in by
Drinking, smoking and/or popular religious cults etc. etc.?
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