"stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door."
Geno Cattouse 

He said I'll love you till I die
She told him you'll forget in time

But as the years went slowly by.
She still preyed upon his mind.

He kept her picture on his wall.
Went half crazy,now and then.

But he still loved her through it all.
Hoping that she'd come back again.

He kept some letters by his bed.
Dated 1962. He had underlined in red.
Every single I LOVE YOU.

I went to see him just today.
Oh but I didn't see no tears.

All dressed up to go away.
First time I'd seen him smile in years.

He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door.
And soon they'l carry him away. He stopped loving her today.

You know,she came to see him one last time.
Aw and we all wondered if she would.
And it kept running through my mind ."This time he's over her for good".

He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door.
And soon they'l carry him away.

He stopped loving her today.

The saddest love lost song I ever heard. By George Jones. A Country Icon.
"Through your memories and its wreath."
Aditya Bhaskara 

Late evenings I stumble on myself
Lost in the reminiscences enshrined,
Lovingly, seemingly entwined
About my heart and thus withheld.

Look at me, am I a lover unleashed,
Like captivated by an exquisite glee?
Lulled by your splendor and its very plea,
Stunned yet I discover all so unfinished.

The sound of your name maketh,
My existence very much breathe.
Abound I am with my unfailing faith,
Through your memories and its wreath.

"onal sweet breads and cakes, has made a wreath for her table and placed the candles th"
Nigel Morgan 

I'm imagining it's Christmas Day. There's snow of course. Wet boots in the hall. We've walked up on the hill and looked across to Wales illuminated in a brief yet vivid sunset. A parliament of crows gathered by Dafyns to honour the day. All the while we made secret love with our fingers through black knitted gloves.
But just two days before Advent begins I stand in my kitchen cutting up the fruit for our soon to be made cake, a cake we'll bake together. This is such joy I tremble a little that it can and is so.
I run through the recipe mentally checking what I know to be here. I love this bringing together of ingredients I know to be in my cupboard, this ’ having things to hand’. So comforting. Cranberries, figs, whole hazelnuts, ground almonds; they are all here waiting in the dark of my store cupboard. I long now to bring them into the open and together in my fingers, touch their particular textures and then mix and bind and stir.
He's zesting a lemon and an orange, a gentle presence in my kitchen, keeping a respectful distance. He regards cooking as gift-giving. He says each meal he cooks is his little gift to me, made with love. I know this to be true.
He talks about writing an Advent letter to an Austrian friend. This lady, who I once met at an opening, celebrates the Feast of Advent with a party. She bakes the traditional sweet breads and cakes, has made a wreath for her table and placed the candles that mark the journey of Advent into Christmas. Four red, one white. After tea she will sing her childhood folk songs and those indigestible Lutheran hymns to the accompaniment of her zither.
He is I know reflecting on this period of preparation for the birth of the Eternal Christ. He talks of 'being away' at this time when the university term ended weeks before Christmas and he would walk the empty beach at Porth Colman where this summer he swam naked in the sea whilst I drew wild pictures with charcoal from a recent fire, and he told me my eyes were so very beautiful, and that he loved me with all his heart.
And I stand in my kitchen with my ‘soon to be baked’ Christmas Cake. I am imagining now the fireside, my cup of Jasmine tea, the knife in my hand firmly breaking into icing and almond paste, into the dark womb of our fruit filled cake bringing into the soft firelight of my sitting room a texture into which together we stirred our wishes for the future, and will soon taste the possibility of it all.

"hand and up to my elbow into a perfect wreath"
Olga Valerevna 

i detached my mind's roots from what had grown along the inside of my skull
like a patch of celadon poison growing up the walls of a brick house
inhibiting other plant life
i wrapped the vines around my hand and up to my elbow into a perfect wreath
thorny and dry
my fingers bled
less conscious than usual
all I could think was
this was easier than I'd expected

"That I must make another wreath"
Kirsten Lovely 

Stupid Kohl's commercial
Poking fun that she's not here
It'll be a lonely Christmas
Without Mrs. Claus this year.
They decorate the woman's house
With golden garland, lights
Hang the diamonds from the tree
For when she comes home that night.
It's like they knew she wasn't home
But I guess her home is now up there
She can celebrate with Grandpa now
I just wish they were still here.
No more Santa ornaments
Or stockings hanging low
No more fruit salad parties
Or reindeer food  in the snow.
I can't seem to fathom it
That I must make another wreath
That this year you won't be helping us
No more Christmas specials to see.
So when I have the jingle bear
And I play the song for kicks
J-I-N-G-L-E Bells
I'll cry at the memories that stick.
I really love the holidays
I'd love them more if you hadn't gone
Enjoy your Christmas with Grampa, please
And play me the jingle song.

"Finally to decorate the body in wreath"
Williamsji Maveli 

Awaken like the swelling sun,
My exotic lust takes a slow run
Awaken like the genesis of day,
My sweet love sings this midday
A new sound is heard like the call of a bird,
My will sobs at the beauty of your word.
Earth is fertile like an elegant woman,
Sun is burning to share, like a man
We were meant to be, long before birth.
Finally to decorate the body in wreath
Your name is written on the vast shore
In a landscape you stand alone bare
Eternally bound, painfully shine
Your breasts are nurtured   in mine.
Day Hand in hand
Night slept in sand
Forever together, never to part,
Bodies divided, but one at heart.
Your soft touch, like the flush of the moon,
Bring forth my heart, from its cocoon.
And in your eyes, your live shines forth,
More than the stars, your glance is worth.
And every word brings forth the fire
Within my veins,  the edge of desire.
To grow old in your arms, this life time
It’s my dream; that’s all I want to be fame
When wheels of age finally run short
Then you are my own angel to escort.
And I will save a seat, for you at my side
Eternity waits, only for both of us to abide.
Now let us rejoice, all comes without a clue
Time is our best friend, as oceans are blue.
All vigor and strength in our bodies reside
Only in true love, does my spirit confide.
Let us be merry, and laugh, and rejoice,
Only in that love, all do  find their voice.

By: Williamsji Maveli

The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's  third  poetry collection   titled as “Arramviralthumbath …”  (On the tip of the 6th finger,  published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared  by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates.  The award has  also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named  as “Maa Salama."  ( means "With peace"  in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches,  focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years.  Williamsji, (Williams George),   former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA  (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for  outstanding contributions to literature  from the native writers  of Kallettumkara,  a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India.  The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 11th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during November, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.

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