"kris" poems
Father Christmas, Pere Noel
People know him just as well
Santa Claus, St. Nicholas too
I know him by all of these...do you?
No matter where you come from
No matter where you go
No matter what folks call him
He's a figure we all know
Dressed in red, or white or blue
Beard of white, big old sack
We know him by so many things
And if you're good he will come back
Whether filling stockings up
Or filling up your wooden shoes
Santa comes on Christmas Eve
And takes away your Christmas blues
Father Christmas, Pere Noel
People know him just as well
Santa Claus, St. Nicholas too
I know him by all of these...do you?
Noel Baba, or Kris Kringle
He can make those sleigh bells jingle
San Niklaw or Babbo Natale
The rat pack all loved him pally!
Do you know him as a skinny man ?
Or is he round and jolly ?
It doesn't matter much to me
It's all mistletoe and holly
Father Christmas, Pere Noel
People know him just as well
Santa Claus, St. Nicholas too
I know him by all of these...do you?
He helps make Christmas what it is
Although the season isn't his
Don't forget the holy side
Just let your heart act as your guide
Pay it forward, pay it back
Remember Santa and his sack
Do unto others as you'd have done
And pay respects to God's son
Father Christmas, Pere Noel
People know him just as well
Santa Claus, St. Nicholas too
I know him by all of these...do you?
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
See him wasted on the sidewalk, in his jacket and his jeans
Wearin' yesterday's misfortunes like a smile
Once he had a future, full of money love and dreams
Which he spent like they was goin' outta style
And he keeps right on a'changin', for the better or the worse
Searchin' for a shrine he's never found
Never knowin' if believin', is a blessin' or a curse
Or if the goin' up was worth, the comin' down
He's a poet, an' he's a picker, he's a prophet, an' he's a pusher
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's ******
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home
He has tasted good and evil, in your bedrooms and your bars
And he's traded in tomorrow for today
Runnin' from his devils Lord, and reachin' for the stars
And losin' all he loved, along the way
But if this world keeps right on turnin', for the better or the worse
And all he ever gets is older and around
From the rockin' of the cradle, to the rollin' of the hearse
The goin' up was worth, the comin' down
He's a poet, an' he's a picker, he's a prophet, an' he's a pusher
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's ******
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home
There's a lot of wrong directions, on that lonely way back home
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
I met the devil many times
didn't drink his beer for free (like Kris Kristofferson#)
or beat him in a fiddling duel (like Charlie Daniels##)
but he wasn't trying too hard to hide
or convince me he didn't reside
in all our hearts at one time or another
Instead, he allowed me to see his (and my) wicked ways
and make me afraid that at the end of my days
if I failed to follow a prescribed and sacred tradition
I would land in the ****** world of perdition
this loathsome chap serves a purpose indeed
and those who have the interminable need
pray fervently each and every day
hoping to keep this imp at bay
but without him and his miscreant acts
we would be stuck with unimaginable facts
like bad things happen without a reason
and nobody is guaranteed a winning season
So if you meet him on some dark and lonely path
(as I have many a time)
fear not you will incur his wrath
for without him there would be none to blame
and we alone would have to feel the shame
for all the woe that is the world
(#Kris Kristofferson wrote a song in which he states he didn't beat the devil, but he drank his beer for free--##Charlie Daniels had a tune where he has a fiddle duel with the devil--I believe Charlie wins in the song)
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
Gilded cage so small and tiny
Even singing comes out whiny
Stinking of fake fresh and piney
Tis the season
Leaking water warm and briny
With good reason
Christmas cheer and glasses toast
Loved ones smile and laugh and boast
I sit perched upon my post
A tinsled column
Invisible reluctant host
A heart that's solemn
A longing for a love so distant
The melancholy is persistent
A smile could erase it in an instant
On a face cherubic
For my heart is not resistent
It's theraputic
So that smile that is perfection
Is mirrored in my own reflection
Without a thought about rejection
Hallucinations
About the subtlest inflection
In Salutations
Surrounded by the merrily intense
With drunkard tendencies immense
A bar with all accoutrements
They pound tequila
Drinking away the sacraments
Oh yes, I feel ya
Merry time with old Kris Kringle
Guests all lubed enough to mingle
Mistletoe hangs and sleigh bells jingle
Gifts homemade
Tables adourned and glasses tingle
Gold brocade
Still I sit all caged and flightless
Blind to joy all sad and sightless
Drink could make it hurt a mite less
I'm going backward
Laying here all limp and lifeless
Broke and fractured
Surrounded by the fake and vexing
Artificial and quite perplexing
Reality they are rejecting
The devil may care
Bellies bare and muscles flexing
Lost underwear
So ******* dancing to the jukebox
Lost alone here in the boondocks
There is no snow upon the rooftops
Ahead they forge
Find a room before that thing pops
It's so engorged
Neighbor ***** all dressed in orange
Wearing gold to make the poor cringe
Stripping time to fill her syringe
I'll be her hinderance
Still too drunk from her last binge
Faulty remembrance
Ridding riff raff from the party
People still drunk on Bacardi
Noxious gasses burp and farty
With toilets makeshift
Worn out makeup on the smarty
She needs a facelift
Time to let the people go
Too tired to keep watching the show
Drinking hard and walking slow
Verbose yet listless
Honey I don't want to know
It's not my business
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
"Remember when they kept saying I was too blind? I think I was just too in love, too naïve and pure." She quietly mutters, her eyes gazing upon the Vanilla Latte, as they sat in their usual sport in the café. Jessica sighs as she remembers those days clearly.
"You still think about it?" He says, glancing at her. She's grown up so much, beauty is still shines on her face, but the innocent vibe changed into a mature one.
"Of course I do… It feels like yesterday" She smiles at the thoughts, her tinkering smile makes his heat beat all over again. «What happened to us?» He asks himself, suddenly forgetting the answer. "I was blind not to see, weak to not accept".
“I would never forget how cute you looked”.
“Kris ―Now isn't the time for you to tell me that”.
“I know I'm wrong, but that’s the truth. If only I could travel back to the past, like in a time machine― change it and make things right for us”.
“But you can’t do that. Face reality Kris, I've grown up, you said you've moved on, there's no point getting in a time machine now” She says as tears threating to fall from her eyes. Shaking his head he feels like his world is slowly breaking. How he missed her a lot during these seven years, her lavender shampoo which lingers, the caramel hair she had is now dark brown giving her a more elegant charm and that smile which made his heat beat faster everytime, but she was changed “ You let go even when I asked you not to, saying goodbye to everything we had.” She sobs. She's right. He’s the only one to blame for everything. It was all his fault he left her for the dream he could never reach, all his fault he let her fall into a arrange marriage into someone she hated and most of all, he was the one to blame for the pain she's still suffering.
“Sica―”
“Forget it, I have to go, someone's waiting for me and I don’t want to keep them waiting " Pushing her seat she quickly walked away.
«Why did this happen to us?» Remembering all the good moments they had, wanting to say those words that never come out before. He went to chase after her, the long forgotten Vanilla Latte. As he saw her, about to reach her, eveything slipped infront of him.
Getting into the car, Jessica left just like that, just as fast as his heart broke. He last saw her leave with some stranger, who she was forced to be with, because of him. Everything was because of him.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
Sleezy Santa
drinking honey flavored
Jack,
straight from the bottle.
Ruining your Childhood
one large gulp at a time.
Chasing it with
Natural Light.
Oh the weather outside is frightful.
***** snow falling on
a ***** town.
The only way that drunkard got on the roof
is through liquid courage.
That **** is slippery
and one misstep means
** ** Hospital
for Jolly ole St. Nick.
The holiday season would be thrown through a loop
with Kris Kringle stuck in a coma.
Mrs. Claus is filling the papers for sole custody of the elves.
Happy Holidays.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 2:49 PM UTC
Deaths Of 2013
My third year doing this.
Paul Walker, Texas ranger,
driving fast leads to danger.
Matt Osbourne was Doink The Clown,
Paul Bearer always wore a frown.
Dennis Farina and James Gandolfini,
always played a mobster meany.
Peter O'Toole, famous actor,
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
President Nelson Mandela,
Dennis Burkley, was a famous fat actor fella.
Lou Reed, is now on the wild side,
took all the colored girls for a ride.
Conrad Bain and Bonnie Franklin,
tv actors who had white skin.
Paul Blair and Stan The Man,
playing baseball, when they can.
Marcia Wallace and Lisa Robin Kelly,
both had ***** that bounced like jelly.
Tom Clancy wrote famous books,
not much on having good looks.
Cory Montieth and Patti Page,
one died young, other of old age.
Jean Stapleton, was Edith Bunker,
Archie always put her in the dumper.
Pat Summerall and Deacon Jones,
played football and broke some bones.
Dr. Joyce Brothers and Pauline Phillips,
they both gave good and bad tips.
Ray Manzarek, from The Doors,
Jeff Hanneman knew all Slayers chords.
Chrissy Amphlett, liked to touch herself,
Caleb Moore's trophies are on his shelf.
Mindy McCready and George Jones,
both hit those country tones.
Chris Kelly from Kris Kross,
Ed Koch is a New York loss.
David Frost and Roger Ebert,
always had words to insert.
Anneitte Funicello from Mickey Mouse Club,
Eydie Gorme almost got a snub.
Jonathan Winters, was very funny,
to come from Mork's egg, made him money.
If you don't know who these people are,
look them up, internet not very far.
For the ones that I missed,
please don't get to ******
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Took 287 South
to a Borders
Goin Outta
Biz Sale.
Books may be
anachronisms,
relics from
yesterdays
analog age,
but literacy's
bankruptcy
does have
advantages.
Take an
additional
30% off on
any orphans
pleading
release from
the discount
racks.
Snooping down
the literature isle
Samuel Beckett's
somber face
arrested my
roving
eyeballs.
A stern stare
printed across
5 spines of
his shrink
wrapped
oeuvre
commanded
my arm to rise
to liberate the
face from the
dismal shelf.
In mid flight
my reach
was hijacked
by a Kris
Kringley red
snow flaked
trim tome
standing
open face
next to
earnest
Beckett.
It was "The
Christmas
Sweater"
by NYT
Best Selling
Author, Glenn
Beck.
Clasping at Beck's
book, it inflicted
a nasty paper cut
to my ring finger.
My mind recoiled,
thinking, "serves
you right. Like
Martha, I shoulda
chosen the better
thing."
I'll never
make that mistake
again.
Borders Books
Riverdale
2/20/11
jbm
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 3:50 PM UTC
Trying to figure out why a ***** tried to stunt on me.
While my homie fronts on me.
Triggered lie’s blasting out like bullets into your chest, golly!
Vigor dying whilst family crying that left me locked up now in a little celly.
Why did I pour out my heart to that ***** named shelly?
**** got me melancholy, casting out poxy curses.
My proxy is dropping down which got me feeling worthless.
Growing up in projects where one survives by snatching purses and killing snitches.
While society bides their time by tying nooses.
Rigged games yet we are told to give no excuses.
So, a minority got no choice but to role with the punches.
But with darker skin colour most don’t or won’t notice the bruises.
Vile nobility just loves hunting gooses.
Stark contrast idly confides and resides Inside institutionalized nuances.
Some people can be such nuisances.
Got me feeling like tony roaming through the different cosmoses.
Lonely sinking feeling, with my hope which was once flickering but is now slowly fleeting.
Reciprocal tensions pokes through my barriers like an unwelcomed greeting.
Typical tropes of under-achieving maybe it’s time I let God start intervening?
However, I’m doubtful on whether spirituality is real or nothing more than Kris Kringle.
Jingling jester choirs who always be harping on my people.
Which makes me ponder whether or not God’s supposed love is fickle.
Or if supposed believer’s have actually ever read the bible?
Religious pharisee’s not seeing the irony of praying to their falsified idols.
With their heads so far up their own *** That they don’t even realize that they’ve actually been worshipping the devil.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC
Kris looked at the clock and knew he didn’t have time to mingle.
Because he was Santa Claus also known as Kris Kringle.
Why did he have to go to the office Christmas party?
It was time to get toys to kids, he did not want to be tardy.
Kris tried to argue with his boss, who was having none of it.
It was like the more he talked, the more his boss had a fit.
How could something be mandatory if we don’t have to go.
His boss said with a smile, You don’t have to be there, but you can’t say no.
So Kris found himself at the party, drinking punch and looking for a way out.
He was sure that with all the days he took off looking for toys, he lost his clout.
To make matters worse, someone suggested that there should be an afterparty later.
Another person yelled out in the office that he knew people who could cater.
I have to get out of here, Kris muttered, but his only experience was with chimneys.
There are cookies and milk waiting, I can't get no more food in me.
So he decided to slip out, but his friend called out, Aww Kris you’re no fun.
Kris went to his car, and looked both ways before putting the keys in the ignition.
It transformed into a sleigh, and Kris Kriegle ripped off his suit.
Santa in all his glory, with the red everything and the black boots.
As he left he shouted, No more Office Christmas parties! I mean ** ** **
Because Santa is the giver to gifts to our children, not our office bro!
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 1:43 PM UTC
On Christnas' the childrens of the world will be opening toys.
While we'll be enjoying each other.
Sharing Christmas love.
You'll be my gift.
And I'll be yours.
Who needs anything else?
When we can be one another toy.
I can be jolly.
You can be joy.
As, we sharing Christmas love.
Bells will be ringing.
If we're the only one to hear them.
Angels will be singing.
If privately we are the one listening.
While we sharing Christmas love.
Candles burning.
Lights are radiant.
As shadows of us bounce off the wall.
We just know, we sharing our love on Christmas.
Santa doesn't have to come.
He will only interrupt us.
While we enjoying creating great fun.
So, stay away Kris Kringle.
You'll be putting wrinkles in our plans.
This is the night for a man and his woman.
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 9:38 PM UTC
Manny Pacman won his fight
His 50+ year old fans stand and unite (in Macau because they are the only ones who can afford going there)
Mommy D with her rosary
Looking like she is summoning something
With the shrieks and roars she's committing
Its a good thing she didn't **** anything
The teen peeps in twitter tweeting about the fight
Hoping to get ten rt's or likes
Some are about winning
And others are more of the "internet type"
But who cares? A fight is a fight !
Manny Pacman is now relived
He prayed to God and thanked thee
Now suddenly he is stressed and in distress
Because he needs to think of songs for his upcoming concert
Here in the Philippines
Heroes and villains unite
Police and criminals have a drink
Kris and Boy make more chika
Because it is a bongga day to day
Cuz Manny won the fight
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 3:37 AM UTC
Don't look so sad, I know it's over
But life goes on and this old world will keep on turning
Let's just be glad, we had some time to spend together
There's no need to watch the bridges that we're burning
Lay your head, upon my pillow
Hold your warm and tender body close to mine
Hear the whisper of the raindrops blowing soft against the window
And make believe you love me, one more time, for the good times
I'll get along, you'll find another, and I'll be here
If you should find, you ever need me
Don't say a word about tomorrow, or forever
There'll be time enough for sadness, when you leave me
Lyrics and music by Kris Kristofferson 1970
I tried to write something for this great Country and Western singer, but I think this song says it all.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
As we start this solemn slalom towards a day that ends engorged,
with stomachs bloated whilst we gloated and toasted a perfect day,
let us remember that December has more days than the 25th.
Mass consumerism has voided homemade, love made gifts.
Orange? In a stocking? That is shocking,
the kid asked for an X-box bundle.
Now, I'm not from the distant past, just the 1970's/80's
Where Christmas carols played alongside a Wham's 'last Christmas'
as we ate our immense repast and pulled a sad ******* or two.
Now, gifts are tiny (but show immense expense)
Most perplexing is this new time of year that Kris Kringle
Would undoubtedly mingle slamming a tequila or two!
Now, kitted out in new underwear
(Ironically cherubic rhymes with *****
it's time to offer salutations to the incoming year
with no backward glance or hindrance
We say "Happy New Year"
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
Christmas Cheer
I can't believe what I just saw,
so surreal it put me in awe.
Of course, I can't tell you what it was,
it would **** your ongoing buzz.
I was bewildered and dumbfounded,
at the same time confused and astounded.
All I can say is please beware,
nothing will ever compare.
I took an oath an sworn to secrecy,
it's a theory of conspiracy.
They put me in witness protection,
wish I could tell you in what direction.
When it happened, I couldn't even scream,
I figured it was just a bad dream.
I just can't go on living this way,
my life is in total dismay.
People always guarding my door,
I liked the life I had before.
Always wondering when and where,
tonight there is something in the air.
Tired of living a life of hiding,
going back home is what I'm deciding.
Packed my bags and rented a U Haul,
no more being behind the eight ball.
What I'm about to tell you is the truth,
I saw mommy kissing Santa in a telephone booth.
Killer elf's started to chase me,
I wish they would let me be.
The institution told me, there was no such thing as Santa,
it was just my dad dressed in a red suited pajama.
I killed who I thought was Kris Kringle,
it sure makes one hell of a holiday jingle.
Witness protection was just an insane asylum,
they told me it was a deserted island.
Son kills dad cause he was naive,
walking past a telephone booth one Christmas Eve.
My mom then got run over by a reindeer,
I hated my parent, this turned out to be a good year.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
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Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 4:39 AM UTC
There, but for the grace of God, go I
A girl with no name
With a look of desolate embarrassed shame
Laid on a makeshift bed in the quiet alley
But tonight, it's not so quiet
Crowds of well-to-do fortunates
Are making their way to a Concert
A small dog nestles down
Onto a cwtch made of stone
He's her only lively company
On this hellish desolate journey
Whatever is wrong
Here, there is no beautiful song
Society has failed
The girl that's derailed
How many turned to look away from her bed?
How many quiet tears were shed?
How many ignored?
How many cringed?
How many felt guilt seeing her ***** quilt?
How many cared
For the girl with no name
With the look of desolate embarrassed shame?
She's now adopted a blank stare
as she asks "Any change spare?"
So tonight when you turn in, say a little prayer
Because, but for the grace of God, we could be lying there.
Written by Kris Prevel
June 2014
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
"I AM YOUR INDECISION!"
The beast roared, shattering the thin, frail film of a shield with which I had managed to surround myself using the little energy I had remaining. I was terrified. It was too huge -- too tremendous. I could hardly make out what it was due to its enormous complexity. And the worst part was...
It was my own creation. I had taken on too many possibilities and had not decided. I had not decided!
But how could I? They were all so...fantastic! I loved each and every one of those possible outcomes. I loved them until they became a monstrosity. The thought of all those futures -- my futures -- becoming something...something like this... It... It...
Enrages me! It saddens me! It brings searing tears to my eyes because I still love the monster I see before me! The very thing that would devour my mind, body and soul if it could. But I would not let that happen. I am not my possibilities. I am not my past nor my future.
"I AM!"
And with those burning words of power I drew the sword which would sever the beast. From my heart the hilt -- gleaming golden grip with a fiery Phoenix crystal clasped in an iron claw. From my mind the blade -- sharper than obsidian flake and still deeper dark, kris like a slithering serpent. And from my soul the glowing strength to wield this sword and wings to carry me onward.
Forth, I fly.
Decide, I must.
Be cause is why.
Myself, I trust.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
i’m gonna be drunk
before i even get out this house,
kris is sleeping
not feelin’ it today
i’m drinking it
startin’ to feel it
big bass bumping outside
my windown
tall drink of water
sippin’ on her drank
she’s feeling it too
prince fielder looking
mother ****** pointing
his finger at something
across the street
not at me
someone else
maybe there will be a fight
tonight
the storms have passed,
but i can still feel them, too.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:25 PM UTC
Why are you so complex?
Why does covetousness never snooze?
Why stir emotions into a vortex?
Why inflict this mental bruise?
Must you always be larger than life?
Must you always overshadow?
Must you act like a desperado?
Must nothing in your life be adequate?
You don't see me frown
You don't seem to see, you clown
You don't seem to empathise
You don't seem to realise
Always it happens
Always it's happened
Always I'm sighing
Always I'm silently crying
Overshadow my quiet mind
Overshadow my sadness
Overshadow my gladness
Overshadow any recent find
Everything must jointly entwine
Everything must not be out-rightly mine
Everything must glow!
Everything does not, it's in your shadow
Why? Oh! Why? do I end up feeling like a sideline?
Written
By Kris Prevel
June 2014
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
Leaving had always been an easy concept for me to grasp
Especially when my dad left
And I was left with nothing but sad, withered letters
And the instillment of trust issues was ****** upon me.
It was even easier when I found out my grandpa left my grandma
The one healthy relationship I had held onto falling apart before my eyes
And yes, although they are still together
Every time I ask about my grandpa to my grandma
I can see in her eyes that she wished things went differently,
That maybe if he had asked to marry her
Then maybe she wouldn't be second guessing if he loved her everyday.
Maybe I truly understood the art of leaving when
My stepfather kept leaving at regular hours during the day
And coming home and odd hours of the night
And my mom was left to cry in our bathroom
While I called my brother on the phone begging him to make me understand what was happening,
Until all my brother could say was, "Kris..."
And I knew, just knew, this was him breaking my mother's heart
For the second time in her life.
With you, I began to understand that leaving happens in two parts
Emotionally and physically.
I felt you leave emotionally
So I was the one that left physically.
And now that I know you'll never be in my life again
And I left my heart with you
The art of leaving has become a foreign concept to me.
How does someone just leave?
How do I leave when so much of me is left in you?
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
Her sudden fall into his arms, he anticipated
for he had planned for her all his life
and even though she knew he would have dominion
their ****** bond was made with a Kris knife
The absence of dreams just nightmares
shadows her very core of being
images after images invades her mind
eyes tight shut, yet she is still seeing
His love is her sweet pain
his want, is her gain
through the swings and roundabouts
their love for each other drives them insane
Liken to stars on a collusion course
one big bang to oblivion
let these star crossed lovers collide
free from the earth they are living on
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
The television was on a loop playing a recording of Natural Born Killers
Our bodies and their contents laid naked and honest over the sheets
He breathed so heavily beside me
I could not say
He was not there
The crack in the window whistled cool air and the radiator over compensated at 80 degrees Fahrenheit, making the room an even 70.
The kitchen light was on.
The guest room light was on.
It was 5:10 in the morning
Too soon for the sun to overwhelm the hollow artificial light
I put on a shirt that I left there weeks ago
It smelled like his cigarette smoke
I brushed my teeth until the sink cloged, brimming with water and swirls of foamy yellow spit.
Lying with you after that cleansing reminded me of the first time I really saw poverty.
No facade, no escape
Too different to empathize
When he wakes up he’ll smile and touch me, he’ll say, “Hi, Baby”, even though I’m not Baby.
Those particular thoughts moved me with a bottomless felling,
So I got up.
Making my way to the kitchen, I turned off the light in the guest room
Not everything can shine
Somehow the kitchen always feels like the center of a home
Maybe because food is a thing that comes before love
The Donner’s loved.
Every inch of the kitchen was coated in foody grime
There was dirt down to every inch, in every crack
Nothing, not even the child could convince him to wipe it away.
That home felt small around us
I felt overstayed
If he woke up from deep sleep while I packed the few things I own
I know his eyes would tell me he didn’t understand
His protest would be angry
He would beg
I’d feel shameful but excited
There is no justification to stay where boxes half-stored and lazy intrude into your limited space,
Where the kitchen grows a layer of filth every time it greets you,
Where the walls close in every early morning when you get up for work and you do the dishes in the quiet.
The roses on the floor didn’t protest loudly,
But they insisted that I crawl back into bed where I belong
“You’re depressed, It will pass again,” they said.
The mercy he showed my flaws, the laughs we shared, his desperation and admiration, his love even though he recoiled, jaded when I couldn’t match him.
None of it could keep me there that morning
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
"IF ONLY"
This is what I saw
Written upon someone's front door:
"If Only",
It's not so absurd
These two little words
It's a simple touch of class
Etched into the glass
What does it mean?
Was it so designed
Just to tease the mind
Like some Artist's muse?
Or was it part of some dream
Known only to the dwellers, unseen?
There may be a hundred clues,
"If Only I knew"
written by Kris Prevel
for my friend Gill
Jan. 2014
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
I love to sit in comfort
At home watching TV
I watch my favorite movies
The one's that work for me
It's not a Christmas movie
Just because there's snow
That's something folks at Hallmark
Should be told, so someone knows
To me, A Christmas movie
Has Santa and a gift
It has a Christmas message
It gives people a lift
Getting lost in a big snowstorm
Finding love in a small town
Doesn't make it Christmas
In fact, it brings me down
I want music, Bing and Danny
Scrooge , Kris Kringle, silent night
I want movies I grew up with
I want films in black and white
I watch movies that will touch me
Make me feel what's deep inside
I want to feel the Christmas spirit
I want shepherds to abide
A Christmas film is something
I want to sit and watch each year
I want to understand what they are saying
I want the message to be clear
Entertain me, make me feel it
Films traditional and new
I want to travel backwards
To remember Christmas past....don't you
A real good Christmas movie
Brings memories into my mind
Of sitting down with Grandpa
Things Hallmark doesn't find
So, even though it starts a fire
No matter what you see
It may be a Christmas film to you
But, it may not be to me
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 9:48 PM UTC