#christmaspoem
Here we hang,
dressed in our very best.
When someone walks past,
we hold our breath,
hoping that someone notices.
The lights blink all around us,
the flicker of warmth in cheap
plastic bulbs.
The tree shakes us awake
every time we think that we’re
about to go to sleep.
We tremble enough as it is,
being this close to each other.
I look forward to Thanksgiving.
normally, that’s when the tree
comes out, as well as the garland.
Soon after, I get a chance to hang by you,
seamlessly doing nothing.
Though we hang on hooks,
it cannot replace the feeling
of being next to you
our reflection mirroring one another.
Even if no one else notices,
soon after Christmas,
we go back into our boxes,
until the same time next year.
While we’re here,
I wanted to let you know
that I cherish these times.
Seamlessly hanging with you,
doing nothing.
Every moment an ornament
falls and crashes into the ground.
I don’t want that to be the case
between us
until we are cracked and dull.
I enjoy the time I spend beside you,
even if there isn’t anything to do
but hang in anticipation,
until next year
Dec 25, 2024
Dec 25, 2024 at 3:42 AM UTC
Who's comb-over looks like *****
Donald's comb-over looks like *****
Who scared us shitless election night?
Donald scared us shitless election night.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump
Who's got a tie that's long and red?
The Don has a tie that's long and red?
Who pays hookers to **** on beds?
The Don pays hookers to **** on beds.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got hands tiny and slight?
The Don has hands tiny and slight.
Who spews lies out day and night?
The Don spews lies out day and night.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who's got a vocab small and trite?
The Don has a vocab small and trite.
Who whines Fake News out of spite?
The Don whines Fake News out of spite.
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Who likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD?
The Don likes tweeting SAD SAD SAD.
Who likes a spanking when he's bad?
The Don likes a spanking when he's bad.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
How many minions leave today?
So many so far went their way.
Comey, Priebus, Flynn and Bannon,
Tillerson, Spicer, Hope and Ryan.
Leave today. Gone their way.
Bad, bad, bad, SAD SAD SAD,
Small and trite. Out of spite.
Day and night. Tiny and slight.
**** on beds. Long and red.
Election night. Looks like *****
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald.
Must be Donald, Donald Trump.
Dec 24, 2024
Dec 24, 2024 at 10:42 AM UTC
I want to write a Christmas poem,
But the muse ain't in the mood;
I look outside, it seems like Spring.
I really think I'm *******
There's not a flake of snow out there,
The sun shines in the blue;
I believe the squirrels are copulating.
I really think I'm *******
Our geese stayed North again this year,
Our fauna's still in view;
It's hard to spot the cardinals;
I really think I'm *******
There's lights strung round houses,
With inflatables on the lawns;
They're out of place,
Look crude and rude;
I really think I'm *******
I'm not hearing silver bells
From sleighs running over snow;
It's a wonder we call this winter,
In Ontariario.
But... the tree is up,
The gifts well-wrapped
With Love and Best Wishes too;
So, in lieu of surely being *******
This verse will have to do.
Dec 23, 2023
Dec 23, 2023 at 12:11 PM UTC
No pressure to be up today,
blessed or cursed, hold on
the hands in yours may be tiny,
of passion, steady, familiar,
frail or memorial
they touch the same
and need you here x
Dec 25, 2021
Dec 25, 2021 at 5:14 AM UTC
Christmas past
is always framed
with melancholic gilt
though its broad strokes show
no love held is ever truly lost
Christmas present
as the Polaroid is shook
takes time to reveal itself
best when pressed in the pages
of the whole story
Christmas future’s binary
seems pixel cold, clinical,
bed-ridden fears looming
but, my dears, don’t fret:
we’ll get what we deserve
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 5:48 AM UTC
Just resting my eyes
as the lights in the tree dance
and some well trodden narrative
of Christmas redemption plays
in gloss on TV
the grey pull of January
is at bay for now
held off by cellophane wrappers
and the smells of a decadent kitchen
though not a Christian
I’ll be thankful anyway,
aware of the drop either side
I’ll let my usual pissy niggles rest
til next year
Dec 22, 2021
Dec 22, 2021 at 12:51 PM UTC
This Christmas Doesn't feel like Christmas
Until my eyes decorate your cheeks &
My teeth hang from your bottom lip like
Missile toe.
Although the weather changes & Santa
is checking his list.
I am patiently waiting for the warm fuzzy
feeling I get when I am with you.
With my arms stretched around you like Garland
There's no place I'd rather be.
My cheek pressed against yours like a bulb.
My smile stamped in white circling round
Full & bubbly, bright red.
Long as I am hanging around you,
Christmas feels like Christmas
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 12:41 PM UTC
You've heard this tale
A thousand times,
Take one more spin,
This version's mine.
And this telling tale
Is its first time.
My theme is fitting,
The message sublime,
For the Season of giving,
And gifting one's time.
For my first Christmas
I was three,
But the warmth that night
Didn't freeze,
And indeed it was
A cold Christmas Eve.
We stuck pine branches
In a bucket of sand,
That's the snapshot I've got
Of our Christmas tree then.
Here's my memory that Eve
From a lad who's three;
Yet this story is true,
It's a family heirloom.
We weren't many then,
There was Mammy and Daddy
And six children, soon seven.
Daddy operated cranes and loaders,
Dirt packers, graders, and cable drovers.
He was working Far North,
Manning a DC10 dozer,
Distant from family
Near the French border.
That's where he was
When the diesel caught fire,
When his pant legs lit up,
But the flame grew no higher.
We were only three months
In our chosen homeland,
It was 1958,
And fresh from Ireland.
No way to get to him,
Nor him to get home,
No car, no friends yet,
Little money, no phone.
Yet somebody knew
We were out on our own.
And the snow started falling,
It was Christmas Eve,
I stood at the window,
Saw the snow fill the trees.
I was still and staring,
At what I don't know,
But I remember quite vividly
All that I saw.
Like a scene from a movie
Starring Barry or Bing,
A fire-engine red no-top
Stopped and parked with high beams,
Highlighting the snow,
On that Christmas Eve.
A big man in a red suit
Slid off of the trunk,
Literally carrying a sack,
And calling, ** **
The family joined me
At the window to see
The big man's helpers
Carry a big Christmas Tree.
When they entered the house
Kevin, Sean, Gerald and I,
Cowered and crouched
Behind the second-hand couch.
We must have resembled
Three monkeys plus me;
I hadn't a clue,
I was dumb-founded and three.
In through the front door
They clattered and sang,
Unloading their boxes
Of food, clothes and toys,
***** bats and dolls
For two girls and four boys;
And I'm sure there was something
For the coming bundle of joy.
I don't remember their departure,
Or where he went,
But they called Merry Christmas
And left all else unsaid.
Mammy understood
Some good persons had called,
Who'd heard of our plight
And couldn't be calmed
Til they knew for certain
We'd some peace in our storm.
So, that's my first Christmas,
Since then this my creed:
The gift of giving
Isn't under the Tree.
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
We're nearing as we ready
The home with green and red;
A deflated Santa on my neighbour's lawn,
Canned snow sprayed in window corners,
Polyethylene on a white Christmas tree,
Gingerbread people drinking hot ***
Mistletoe hanging from sticks and jambs,
And an apron round the stem.
I decorate, make my fruit cake,
Set out the children's books,
The ones I've read so often:
Rudolph and Old St. Nick,
They look foolish on my table.
Displayed in their fixed place.
They're not like my Christmas bling,
The blinking lights, false stars at night,
Twas the Night Before Christmas
Is the real thing.
At midnight we'll hear choirs sing,
Joy to the World, Peace on Earth,
For one night I'll believe again.
Stay good night.
I see my words rise on my breath,
Being swept up to your stars.
Stay good people.
Who missed this year.
Who came last,
Who comes next.
I surely miss you all.
Such heavy memories
Of snow-laden branches,
Castles in globes,
Ballerinas in boxes.
My new memories
Will never last as long
As the ones I've carried all along.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
The children are grown,
They have their own
Christmas.
It's the natural order
To leave the hearth,
And start.
No more journeys home,
They're there.
You see, I'm not alone,
I recall all we had
When we were home.
The exuberant joy and anticipation
On your faces on Christmas morn.
I had it all.
I have it all,
The past, our presence,
From first, to our last.
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
Children drugged with truthless tales . . .
Unwise men embrace their treasure;
Algorithms urge the sales
In malls devoid of merry measure.
Plastic sparkles in the air;
Automotive ads turn festive . . .
Forced good nature everywhere
Makes the shopping crowds grow restive.
Corporate greed spins altruistic
Hyping goods, suppressing Christ.
Our Yuletide is their big statistic
Oversold and underpriced.
Secular beribboned fluff:
Peace, Goodwill . . . but don't say God !
And heaven knows you've had enough;
Just download the app—acquire the mod.
Coca-Colaed, Disneyfied
You're wrapping paper for their fire;
Eggnogged, Santa-ed, thrown aside
While Babel's flames roar ever higher.
The godlessness shines right on through
Where Christmas lyrics die, unheard.
The Yule-log and the sparks that flew
Expire in embers long unstirred.
The old usurper carting toys
And Chinese knock-offs in his sled
Sets off a lot of empty noise:
Insanity in green and red.
The lurker leers and hauls his bag
(jolly antichrist distraction)
While flying Bishop Nicholas' flag:
A winter psy-ops covert action.
Only message left: go drink!
And may your cup o'erflow with cheer
Before you risk to start to think
Yourself and God right out of here.
Hallmark haloes, bygone kitsch
enwreaths the memory of the years,
Kindling maudlin sadness which
wells up in melancholy tears
For Christian culture (rest in peace)
Long-corrupted by dollar signs;
For fa la la and fattened geese
And holly midst the ivy vines;
For Dickens' gospel of the season
Anglican angelic ghosts
Pushing us beyond unreason
Toward the future's spectral hosts;
For folklore now reduced to ash
Commercial blow-outs, ***** snow;
For Saturnalian urge to smash
the store-front windows where they show;
For useless manger figurines
Passed down from some more faithful time;
For hallowed and nostalgic scenes
No longer worth a Roman dime.
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
"Is there anyone for stuffing?
Well done George, send us down your plate,
Auntie, if you've finished with the cranberry sauce
Could you please pass it across to Kate?"
"Brian can I interest you in my brussels?
There's nothing quite like a good sprout,
If anyone wants anything passed,
Don’t wait to be asked, just shout."
"Richard, will you please sit and eat,
And just stop irritating Claire,
No, you better wash your hands first,
You're getting gravy in her hair."
"Ted, you wanted more potatoes,
What, you only want one or two?
But the ones left really aren’t that big,
I'd better pile on a few."
"Sarah, you're not looking after your young man,
The poor boy's been left to starve,
Go and get him some more turkey dear,
Your Father will help you to carve."
“Malcolm, not too much in Grandma’s glass,
You know what she gets like,
Open another red for Father,
I’ll stick to the bubbly-white.”
"Well if everybody's had enough,
I think I'd better finish the peas,
Richard, don't cough over the table,
Remember your manners, please."
"Ah, make way for Father and the Christmas pud,
I hope he hasn't overdone the brandy,
Saints preserve us . . . Father’s on fire. . !!
Oh, well smothered dear, three cheers for Mandy,
Hip, hip, hooray,
Hip, hip, hooray,
Hip, hip, hooray."
"No, Louise, you can't pull the crackers yet,
We're saving those for tea,
Richard, take that stupid tinsel off your head,
And put it back on the tree.”
“Everyone go in the other room and play games,
Just leave all the dishes to me,
I’ll do the washing and drying up,
While I’m sorting out something for tea.”
“Richard please don’t tease the dog,
Claire don’t pin that tail on the cats,
Lloyd, play nicely, stop fighting with Louise,
You’re ruckling up all of the mats.”
“Hmmmnn … not quite enough sherry in this trifle,
Hick … I think there’s probably more in me,
I’m sure I’ve been working far too hard,
Hick … I’m feeling quite dizzy.”
“They say that Christmas comes but once a year
And aren’t I just glad that’s so,
It’s nice to see all of them for a while,
But it’s even better to see them go …”
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 3:01 PM UTC
Heading into Bethlehem . . .
Three Wise Men,
In search of a stable.
Heading out of Bethlehem . . .
Three Wise Turkeys,
While they were - still able.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:54 AM UTC
Puno nanaman ang aking isipan,
Hindi ko alam paano at saan ito sisimulan,
Mga panahong kailangan ko ng kakapitan,
Ikaw sana ang takbuhan ngunit para bang ang layo mo na para akin pang lapitan.
Mga panahong sinabi natin na walang iwanan,
Subalit unti-unti nang napunta sa kawalan,
Marami tanong; maraming kwento,
Sa mga oras na ilalahad mukhang hindi intiresado,
Alam kong pag may umalis sa buhay mo,
Tuluyan mo ng kakalimutan at ika'y lalayo,
Ngunit pag ako'y kailangan,
Wag kang mag-atubiling ako'y tawagan.
Mali bang mapagod? At magpahinga?
Dahil kung mali iyon patawad ngunit kailan ko lang huminga,
Sa mga tingin palang alam kong maraming nagbago.
Kasalanan ko ba 'to? O sadyang hinayaan nalang maging ganito.
Patawad, ilang beses ko ba kailangan sabihin?
Patawad, patawad, patawad. Ilang beses ko ba kailangan ulitin? Patawad.
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 2:17 AM UTC
People tend
To celebrate the day when Jesus came,
It's the same day of my pain.
Colorful lights and sugar coated words
The night were never been old.
But all beyond those physical senses
and my stormy head --
lies the dark room and silence of grief and cold.
On one icy Christmas night
I received the most precious gift.
With the hissing sound of trees,
With the wind caressing my skin,
With the cold tears from my eyes,
They witnessed how the glass broke.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC