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"yuletide" poems
Once more the ancient feast returns, And the bright hearth domestic burns With Yuletide's added blaze; So, too, may all your joys increase Midst floods of mem'ry, love, and peace, And dreams of Halcyon days.
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Halcyon Days
Holly, Ivy & Mistletoe. Holly, Ivy and Mistletoe for Yule Celebrate the return of the light Deck your home with its greenery And ribbons of red, green and gold shining bright Ivy for the Lady, Holly for the Lord Mistletoe for fertility, the Sun God reborn Light up your home with candles soft, warm glow Hail and welcome the new born babe this Yuletide Dawn Blessed Be Yule 2012 Nerwydd Dragonborne
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:01 PM UTC
Holly, Ivy & Mistletoe.
My amazed ghost, you inspire me to write. How I hate the way you skip, walk and hide, Invading my mind day and through the night, Always dreaming about the light yuletide. Let me compare you to a crazed cherry? You are more unfazed, banal and active. Ice bites the debris of February, And wintertime has the beguiled practive. How do I hate you? Let me count the ways. I hate your brilliant lip, smile and eyes. Thinking of your reviled smile fills my days. My hate for you is the attractive flies. Now I must away with an open heart, Remember my wild words whilst we're apart.
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Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 3:30 PM UTC
Ode to the ghost
Christmas can be a time when families get together: Young children scream, wine glasses gleam, both ready for M&S dinner. TV's in the corner rerunning Home Alone, Heart radio's in the kitchen, Chris Rea's driving home, again. Toddlers find the wrapping more engaging than the Duplo Teen couples find the company less of interest than their own. The dog's confused and excited with so many different sources of scratches and pats, he can't relax, his whining is remorseless. Christmas can be a time when families are missed, the parcel made last post winging off to little sis. Zoom will come in handy to laugh across the miles, the screen will mask the tears and focus on the smiles. Gran will talk of Christmas past when everyone was home 'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John went away, .... Christmas can be a time when budgets get stretched tight, cash pressures get to breaking point and prompt senseless fights. Some focus on opportunity to spend some gilt-free money, the only prayers are for extra hours and a faster tesco trolley. For others it's simply ' Yuletide' an excessive celebration, a winter feast, all you can eat, give in to all temptation. Most focus on the family, even more on the gifts; there's little time for Jesus assigned amongst the myths. Some do remember Jesus from half forgotten carols, they know there's something more than donkeys and angel heralds. For there He is in the middle, noticed once in a while; it's His birthday, but all He's getting is a half-hearted song and a smile. He's no longer a babe in a manger, He's now a resurrected King, waiting for those who would worship to stand and welcome Him in. Whatever your experience of Christmas you can come just as you are, His love is unconditional He'll accept you warts and all. So come on! It’s a season to celebrate! To dance, to sing and to shout! Your Saviour invites you to join Him, so when you sing this Christmas, make it count.
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Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 5:43 PM UTC
Come as you are
Christmas can be a time when families get together: Young children scream, wine glasses gleam, both ready for M&S dinner. TV's in the corner rerunning Home Alone, Heart radio's in the kitchen, Chris Rea's driving home, again. Toddlers find the wrapping more engaging than the Duplo Teen couples find the company less of interest than their own. The dog's confused and excited with so many different sources of scratches and pats, he can't relax, his whining is remorseless. Christmas can be a time when families are missed, the parcel made last post winging off to little sis. Zoom will come in handy to laugh across the miles, the screen will mask the tears and focus on the smiles. Gran will talk of Christmas past when everyone was home 'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John went away, .... Christmas can be a time when budgets get stretched tight, cash pressures get to breaking point and prompt senseless fights. Some focus on opportunity to spend some gilt-free money, the only prayers are for extra hours and a faster tesco trolley. For others it's simply ' Yuletide' an excessive celebration, a winter feast, all you can eat, give in to all temptation. Most focus on the family, even more on the gifts; there's little time for Jesus assigned amongst the myths. Some do remember Jesus from half forgotten carols, they know there's something more than donkeys and angel heralds. For there He is in the middle, noticed once in a while; it's His birthday, but all He's getting is a half-hearted song and a smile. He's no longer a babe in a manger, He's now a resurrected King, waiting for those who would worship to stand and welcome Him in. Whatever your experience of Christmas you can come just as you are, His love is unconditional He'll accept you warts and all. So come on! It’s a season to celebrate! To dance, to sing and to shout! Your Saviour invites you to join Him, so when you sing this Christmas, make it count.
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Moons fall, Eggshell snow, Blurred illumination, Dreary lights, Twinkles disintegrate, Blazed sparks fade, Faint complexion, Awkward tree, Ornament shadows, Fuses burn out, Connection lost, Spirit dies out, Yuletide lie, Imperfection. My eyes are dark as Halloween night. Suns shine, White angel, Luminous site, Multicolored pigments, Rosy cheeks glow, Rays seep through, Vivid hue, Elegant she, Majestic gleams, Beams strike around, Fascination found, Neon dyes around, Joyful cry, Pulchritude. Her eyes are bright as Christmas morning.
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Blindness
People take the world as they see it themselves some see black some see white many see grey as for me? I see it for what it is....technicolored.                                                                                                   Life is far to wonderful and bright too see it as simple black                                        it is too deep and mysterious to be only white it is too exciting and amazing to be described as grey There's a reason that there is color present everywhere. If the world were colorless, so life would be.                                                                                                    But the autumn leaves are crimson and gold and apricot The halls in which we walk are of light saphron and amber                                                        The city streets in which we trod are spurted with shades of periwinkle and magenta The meadows through which we stroll have flowers of violet and buds of rose                                                         The trees with which we have our yuletide celebration are the solemn green   Life is as we see it dont be strapped down to bland colors like                                          grey                     white                              black Life is color Furious Scarlet                             Dejected Sapphire                                                                  Joyful Fuscia                                                                                               Envious Sage                                                                                                                                     Playful Yellow Even as you look in the mirror, colors are shown to you. I see eyes of chocolate                                     cheeks of mauve                                                                          teeth of pearl                                                                                                             lips of ruby                                                                                                                                            skin of gold Even my soul is multicolored in all its numerous facets                                                        Dont let yourself be barred into the cell of neutrality                                                                                                    See life for the rainbow that it truly is.
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
Rose Colored Glasses
People take the world as they see it themselves some see black some see white many see grey as for me? I see it for what it is....technicolored.                                                                                                   Life is far to wonderful and bright too see it as simple black                                        it is too deep and mysterious to be only white it is too exciting and amazing to be described as grey There's a reason that there is color present everywhere. If the world were colorless, so life would be.                                                                                                    But the autumn leaves are crimson and gold and apricot The halls in which we walk are of light saphron and amber                                                        The city streets in which we trod are spurted with shades of periwinkle and magenta The meadows through which we stroll have flowers of violet and buds of rose                                                         The trees with which we have our yuletide celebration are the solemn green   Life is as we see it dont be strapped down to bland colors like                                          grey                     white                              black Life is color Furious Scarlet                             Dejected Sapphire                                                                  Joyful Fuscia                                                                                               Envious Sage                                                                                                                                     Playful Yellow Even as you look in the mirror, colors are shown to you. I see eyes of chocolate                                     cheeks of mauve                                                                          teeth of pearl                                                                                                             lips of ruby                                                                                                                                            skin of gold Even my soul is multicolored in all its numerous facets                                                        Dont let yourself be barred into the cell of neutrality                                                                                                    See life for the rainbow that it truly is.
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I. (Wrap). It does not matter how they have wrapped the presents but what lies beneath. -------------------------------------------------- II. (Gifts). Be thankful my friends for what you have this Christmas even if it's socks. -------------------------------------------------- III. (Reindeer). In all honesty, should Santa and his reindeer fly in this weather?
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Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
Yuletide Trilogy
There’s a sense of something really good this Christmas, There’s a feeling in the air that it’s OK The anticipation’s there about ….a happiness out there And the weather outlook’s brilliant for the day. Mother’s planning a big roast for Christmas dinner There’ll be sparkles and bright spangles on the tree, Underneath there’s quite a pile, gaily wrapped to bring a smile And a kiss beneath the mistletoe for me? Spare a thought for all poor souls who have nobody Gift-wrap a parcel or two for the disowned, To make some unknown person smile advances Christmas by a mile And really brightens up the prospects for the un-homed. It’s a day to gift good wishes to your loved ones Share some cold beers in the sunshine on the deck, And when we’ve eaten to excess and helped mum clean up the mess There will be time to take a snooze…and what the heck! So to all our friends, across this world, aplenty, May we take this opportunity to say We hope your Christmas be as good as we know it really should And may Santa gift you happiness ….to stay! MERRY CHRISTMAS Love from Janet and Marshal. “Foxglove” Taranaki, New Zealand.
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
YULETIDE
Bring down the Yuletide smile Of countless generations and open winter faces Gaining frail but everlasting spirits Feeling tender and warm at pieces of literature Made relevant with countless references to such Wondrous elements known to man Not wishing to send negatives of loud examples Moods of love and forgiveness abound But can they last as time moves from a tiny Microcosm of capsule-like events Hung like baubles to an expectation Why is this so? Nothing is as regimented as December True Yuletide is a celebration of an end And a beginning,  a pagan festival Sustainable and honest from a tangible simple respect Banded about and tainted by commerce and Jesus Nothing could be further from seasonal vita
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Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 10:10 AM UTC
Yuletide
Yuletide essays read poorly of spiritual love Save of winter concerns of cold hands and feet But to me my warmth is from within and without From sensitive elements and looks of expectancy All through the year I am loved and brought home by generous arms Holding my tender heart with simple fingers of gentleness At Yule my fears are ones of inability to conform Yet I know that my love will be kept holding small edifices Of temperate thoughts and radiant hopes Lest our love is exposed to the winter blast It has no maintenance worries as we stay locked Deeply embracing through the chill of the night In the mornings there may be white blankets of snow Which drive others to feel  isolation and loneliness But here at Yule as ever our hearts are as one Despite the dragging pressures of the seasonal presence New Year is a triumph of milestone epic Fantasising our minds with future conquerings Especially as most are timid in their push for reality Ours has been honed to supernatural  levels Although we look deeply into bringing these to bear We know from our hearts these are just around the corner Upon the very road we travel
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Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 7:50 AM UTC
Yuletide Essays
I have seen a version, however, it is too 'Wiccan' for my tastes, so decided to write my own: OH COME ALL YE PAGANS. Oh come all ye Pagans Gather we together To celebrate the returning light Waiting and watching Our eyes on the horizon We await the new born Sun Child We await the new born Sun Child We await the new born Sun Child This Solstice morn. Now you have returned On this Sacred morning Born of the Goddess your light will shine The darkest night is over The days will now grow longer Hail and welcome new born Sun Child Hail and welcome new born Sun Child Hail and welcome New born Sun Child This Blessed Yuletide dawn. December 18th 2012 Copy-write Dragonborne Wolf
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Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 5:38 AM UTC
Pagans version of Oh come all ye faithful
beholden green the hot road rusting groundless leaves icicle landscape St. Four leaf Clover Skewers on the grill Candy on a trail 5th avenue in snow Busting sprouts Dandelion Wine Harvest yellow Yuletide fire flame Rain filled creeks Dried up clay The last hurricane Rains turns to ice
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May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 4:35 PM UTC
4 X 4
What does Christmas mean to you? Lots of parties, things to do Presents to buy,friends to see Got to get a Christmas tree The lights are up, the decorations Excitement grows, anticipation The turkey's stuffed, ready to go If we're lucky we may see snow Get caught up in the Christmas mood If you don't you're Mr Scrooge Flash the card, splash some cash Don't turn up drunk for midnight mass But let's go back to days of yore When our god was nature in the raw A Pagan celebration there we find A twelve day feasting known as Yuletide Times have changed but traditions survive In a slightly different guise We'll follow suit and do just that Like the druid and the bishop We'll put on our Santa hat.
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Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 9:22 AM UTC
The Christmas Hijack
Chestnuts roasting by an open fire Stories gather round to tell I almost sat too close to it And roasted mine as well Away in a manger No crib for a bed All the nice hay Smells of ***** instead Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the yuletide gay But if Santa's eyeing up your chimney Send him on his way I'm dreaming of a quiet Christmas With every panic out of sight May your days be merry and bright And may all your Christmases be just right
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
It's Christmas
Let this season, this yuletide season, be the one of joy shared. The one that brings peace to that restless soul, succor and solace to comfort the confused ones and bring reconciliation to the alienated. Give a piece of yourself to others, like God gave his only begotten Son to you and the world whose natal day is the reason for this season. Let it be the one that truly reflects the heart of God in man. Let us see others as God see them. This is the time to start, extend your hand, your heart and your resources, respond to their silent call for help, hear their cry. See the pain behind their smile. Be compassionate. Your little bit support and supply of something in some small way is everything. Let that child smile again, reassure that widow. Your gifts may not change or stop the pain but it will surely go a long way to ameliorate and bear on their situation, and that would have been enough. Let us remember the motherless, the sick and the critically ill, the blind and the crippled, the orphans and the lonely ones, the elderly and the forgotten, the less privilege, the downtrodden, that neighbor who who seem so distressed. Partner with me henceforth to lift them up. Let us really mean it when we say to someone, Merry Christmas!!! ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
THE TRUE YULETIDE
'tis a season for joy a season for- jolly good times with loved ones held dear ornaments to display our holiday cheer yuletide carols sung for a King so near a season for- jubilation found in selfless opportunities optimistic spirits filled with generosity young and old to gather in community where no matter- gender or age culture or race poor or wealthy sick or healthy no matter your circumstance you can still choose joy
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Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
season for joy
Awe-inducing presence Beguiling beauty Calm after the storm Delicate and divine Effervescent being Flames dancing in the sky God-fearing Heart unstained by impurity Interstellar Joy in the midst of misery Kind, too kind for her sake Lovely smile Magnetic woman Never says never Oblivious to love Pure white Quick-wit and sharp Rain during the drought Starry, starry eyes Thunderstorms Unwavering love Virtuoso Wholehearted Xenon, gold, and neon Yuletide happiness Zigzag feelings
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
Your Alphabetical
you don't dare unwrap the real gift hidden under layers of hype too hard to discover it beneath mounds of plastic under the glare of neon falsities projected aimlessly scrolling away your soul Godless Yuletide   Christless Noel sterile feigned joy useless worthless feelgood frenzy sentimental superficiality televised consumer fables cute trendy on the screen market-driven fakeries of fake snow Mammon's medicated stress-fest passive-aggressive goodwill American commercialism angelic Antichrist malls of lost souls waiting for the next explosion trying hard to feel the warmth in the winter chill of hearts hardened against the Christ of Christmas unwrap the past to find the present in your sold-out future Christ is Lord
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Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
Christless Present
Tell me stories of a honey-coloured love Time immemorial and sweetly scented doors Fine me heartaches in the absence of the stars Gazing forever through the silence of descent Urge me gently on the road of reveries Rising dawns in the howl of morning bees Miss me terribly from the quiver of your lips Haunted softly by the touch of kind strangers Watch me tenderly of thoughts in dreary days Fondly forgetting our many silhouetted ways Every yuletide it comes the time under the blanket of nirvana where I remember you for brief flickers in the light of better days
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Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 11:25 AM UTC
Musing Off Mount Olympus
For the past few months Our great nation has experienced great tragedies But we didn't turn out to be sloths Though our fates are still bidden As the brumous weather draws near A hirareth comes with fear But the spirit of Christmas gets warmer The yuletide becomes louder It's about time to heed this very call We must stand up for the good of all It cradles an ambiguous thought Which the human hear long sought In this form of literature I hope to inspire the people of this nation, to understand its nature And start effecting some changes To seek out the strangest, To venture the wilderness of the lost peace & harmony And restore this country's prosperity In this season, may we stop all forms of quarrels For we are no rebels Of this glorious season That brings joy to me with a great reason This Christmas is a grandiose season Let us stop every kind of treason Let us set aside all our hard feelings That has been harboured in our hearts Let this Christmas be different Let this be the time when we relent Let this be the Christmas when we share Everything that we may share for this season is rare It's Christmas time We share not just a dime Even prayers for our fellowmen And joy for all men
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC
It's Christmas Time
what joy he'll bring that red suited man presents of much glee dolls and train sets happy girls and boys unwrapping gifts it's Yuletide Season
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Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
Yuletide Season (Shanzi)
Unburied tomorrow from Christian metanarratives the mid-winter solstice.           December 21;            the shortest day        over the longest night. Two lovers                are by the Channel                     divided                          to different beds                                 to tongue tastes                                         to timed beats                                                      to unfamiliar scents                                           as Yuletide days                      burn twelfths to gray ash;               their bodies          are sea cleaved. Come! cross the water and release with lively touch tresses thick and winter's dew, unctuous upon the crag, the timely solar orb to stir the frozen ground on our rocky shelves and chopped bowels. On 25th, Christ's star is risen: the king's light dispersed    in lengthening days    in opened flesh    in loosening chords untied    in sinews gnawed through    in desire's wanting hotly flayed! 60 seconds were daily added, to when in the 100 Year Gallery,   love to know, would in solstice ultimately lay. For now as then, our emboldened play in days delayed has been love's lacerating torment!
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Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
Love Unburied
Unburied tomorrow from Christian metanarratives the mid-winter solstice.           December 21;            the shortest day        over the longest night. Two lovers                are by the Channel                     divided                          to different beds                                 to tongue tastes                                         to timed beats                                                      to unfamiliar scents                                           as Yuletide days                      burn twelfths to gray ash;               their bodies          are sea cleaved. Come! cross the water and release with lively touch tresses thick and winter's dew, unctuous upon the crag, the timely solar orb to stir the frozen ground on our rocky shelves and chopped bowels. On 25th, Christ's star is risen: the king's light dispersed    in lengthening days    in opened flesh    in loosening chords untied    in sinews gnawed through    in desire's wanting hotly flayed! 60 seconds were daily added, to when in the 100 Year Gallery,   love to know, would in solstice ultimately lay. For now as then, our emboldened play in days delayed has been love's lacerating torment!
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A friend of mine asks, “Why do you only ever write about romance lately?” Well, the answer is quite simple, really. It is because I have tasted it. I tasted it when my eyes first drank the light from his grace when he stood tall above me His saturnine windows called out to me behind flesh curtains whenever he spoke, ever asking me to join him in his ecstasy He, from a distance, darted towards me and pressed our sides together—letting myself melt in the velveteen touch of fabric skin There was a shower of momentary light that night but only his radiance did I bask in. I tasted it in the heart of the stone city where usurpers of old stood on polished stone The Bulwark’s adobe reach embraced our reverie as memories from sleep stories become reality He, in the confines of that venerable fortress, made me vulnerable for I was secure in his arms His fingers are in between my own like woven mithril unbreakable lest he broke its bond himself It is in this kingdom of carven stone and handmade walls that he sang of ardor with a dragon’s petrifying gaze. I tasted it in yuletide storms where men and women waged war with happiness and grief When the armies of pain and suffering fell at our clasped hands and cheeks red from amorous verve you said you were to journey home But you did not let go of my grasp With me you remained and in your arms I stayed As the bitter winds of bigoted mouths blew, as the fire from damnation is declared by self-righteous souls, we stood fast in the storm. I tasted it when he said our love he could no longer endure There we sat, on a tarnished vehicle, as the last of our love gave into rust What is frightening to me peeked from his saturnine eyes and he closed his curtains shut for the downpour of despondency was to come We flooded our façades and the rivers quaked our emotional integrity He held my hand for one final chance before we ripped our wrappings forever apart and he kissed me tender Our lips made love—like the first they ever met in weathered heat—for the last time. I tasted it when I told him “Just do so, when your appetite roars to love me again,” and until now I am waiting. So, why do I ever only write about romance lately? Well, the reason is quite complicated, really. But–but it is because I’ve tasted it.
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Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC
It Is Quite Simple Really
A friend of mine asks, “Why do you only ever write about romance lately?” Well, the answer is quite simple, really. It is because I have tasted it. I tasted it when my eyes first drank the light from his grace when he stood tall above me His saturnine windows called out to me behind flesh curtains whenever he spoke, ever asking me to join him in his ecstasy He, from a distance, darted towards me and pressed our sides together—letting myself melt in the velveteen touch of fabric skin There was a shower of momentary light that night but only his radiance did I bask in. I tasted it in the heart of the stone city where usurpers of old stood on polished stone The Bulwark’s adobe reach embraced our reverie as memories from sleep stories become reality He, in the confines of that venerable fortress, made me vulnerable for I was secure in his arms His fingers are in between my own like woven mithril unbreakable lest he broke its bond himself It is in this kingdom of carven stone and handmade walls that he sang of ardor with a dragon’s petrifying gaze. I tasted it in yuletide storms where men and women waged war with happiness and grief When the armies of pain and suffering fell at our clasped hands and cheeks red from amorous verve you said you were to journey home But you did not let go of my grasp With me you remained and in your arms I stayed As the bitter winds of bigoted mouths blew, as the fire from damnation is declared by self-righteous souls, we stood fast in the storm. I tasted it when he said our love he could no longer endure There we sat, on a tarnished vehicle, as the last of our love gave into rust What is frightening to me peeked from his saturnine eyes and he closed his curtains shut for the downpour of despondency was to come We flooded our façades and the rivers quaked our emotional integrity He held my hand for one final chance before we ripped our wrappings forever apart and he kissed me tender Our lips made love—like the first they ever met in weathered heat—for the last time. I tasted it when I told him “Just do so, when your appetite roars to love me again,” and until now I am waiting. So, why do I ever only write about romance lately? Well, the reason is quite complicated, really. But–but it is because I’ve tasted it.
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For Christmas I want a bible with all blank pages I want a butterfly butter-knife For surprise attack sandwiches I want a time machine So I can go back to when I was a ****** To my first cigarette And my first lover And my first broken heart To where my eyes didn’t have the green tint of jade Lightening up this solid brown My favorite color I want a new harmonica inhale And exhale I want to breathe heavy into your wind instrument CPR your song back to life I want to slow dance on dying yuletide embers And regift your laughter til I am not funny anymore Don’t be mad that I recycled the stockings You made me remove so slowly last night They are stretched out now And filled with crumpled photographs And candy And sticky notes full of bad one-liners Like “I thought I loved you until I loved you And now I’m not sure of anything” Forgive me It was all I could afford I want More than just blankets to keep me warm at night I want you to keep me warm at night I want a type-writer big enough to run myself through So I can rewrite the rough drafts my parents never finished I want to bring the stars back west So I can wish some more I wish I knew how to be quiet When beauty demanded silence So her feet could echo proper Drawing eyes to follow her sound I want the trillions of miles my mind has traveled To finally stop somewhere important Like right here Near the end of this poem Where I tell you I want so much And need so little Just the promise of tomorrow I guess Until there are no more tomorrows Then just a fair warning Long enough to make you laugh maybe That’s it
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Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 7:14 AM UTC
What This Poet Wants for Christmas
For Christmas I want a bible with all blank pages I want a butterfly butter-knife For surprise attack sandwiches I want a time machine So I can go back to when I was a ****** To my first cigarette And my first lover And my first broken heart To where my eyes didn’t have the green tint of jade Lightening up this solid brown My favorite color I want a new harmonica inhale And exhale I want to breathe heavy into your wind instrument CPR your song back to life I want to slow dance on dying yuletide embers And regift your laughter til I am not funny anymore Don’t be mad that I recycled the stockings You made me remove so slowly last night They are stretched out now And filled with crumpled photographs And candy And sticky notes full of bad one-liners Like “I thought I loved you until I loved you And now I’m not sure of anything” Forgive me It was all I could afford I want More than just blankets to keep me warm at night I want you to keep me warm at night I want a type-writer big enough to run myself through So I can rewrite the rough drafts my parents never finished I want to bring the stars back west So I can wish some more I wish I knew how to be quiet When beauty demanded silence So her feet could echo proper Drawing eyes to follow her sound I want the trillions of miles my mind has traveled To finally stop somewhere important Like right here Near the end of this poem Where I tell you I want so much And need so little Just the promise of tomorrow I guess Until there are no more tomorrows Then just a fair warning Long enough to make you laugh maybe That’s it
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52
I wish you all Happy Holidays, a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Festivus, Yule etc. Whichever tradition you follow, the heart of the celebration is the same. It's about rebirth (among the other good things like family and compassion and healing), the mystery of new things by some miracle born of old. We're told that we are supposed to be happy, that to not be cheerful this day is miserly and selfish, it's implied that if we aren't feeling perfect then we should fake it for people, that we should fake happiness so our loved ones can be genuinely happy by not seeing our sadness. But this is a hard, sad time for many of us, no matter how hard we try to be hopeful. I wish that I could really believe, rather than just hope, that the old world, the world of xenophobia and hatred, so many acts of violence and horror that I can't even keep track of them all...I wish that I could be sure that the world is being renewed by a higher power. In the face of so much, it may seem that you're just a small person, in a small place, with small problems and small gifts and a small heart, and this whole thing is a worthless gesture. Well, it isn't...this isn't just an accident, we're not just flotsam in a nameless, faceless mass of humanity with no real purpose and no value. Everything matters, and every day we have a chance to make a difference, every day we are given opportunities to be a part of miracles. All of us have the power to reach out and touch another person, to give hope instead of taking it away. There really is a better world out there, and every positive act, every genuine smile, every gentle word and every courageous stand against hatred brings us closer. And finally, a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, and if I wake up tomorrow to find that all my appliances have come to life and burst into song and a gaggle of short bearded guys expecting food and talking about some kind of stolen gold and dragons and crap, I may just have to start taking things a little more seriously ;)
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Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
(Late) Yuletide Message
I wish you all Happy Holidays, a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, Festivus, Yule etc. Whichever tradition you follow, the heart of the celebration is the same. It's about rebirth (among the other good things like family and compassion and healing), the mystery of new things by some miracle born of old. We're told that we are supposed to be happy, that to not be cheerful this day is miserly and selfish, it's implied that if we aren't feeling perfect then we should fake it for people, that we should fake happiness so our loved ones can be genuinely happy by not seeing our sadness. But this is a hard, sad time for many of us, no matter how hard we try to be hopeful. I wish that I could really believe, rather than just hope, that the old world, the world of xenophobia and hatred, so many acts of violence and horror that I can't even keep track of them all...I wish that I could be sure that the world is being renewed by a higher power. In the face of so much, it may seem that you're just a small person, in a small place, with small problems and small gifts and a small heart, and this whole thing is a worthless gesture. Well, it isn't...this isn't just an accident, we're not just flotsam in a nameless, faceless mass of humanity with no real purpose and no value. Everything matters, and every day we have a chance to make a difference, every day we are given opportunities to be a part of miracles. All of us have the power to reach out and touch another person, to give hope instead of taking it away. There really is a better world out there, and every positive act, every genuine smile, every gentle word and every courageous stand against hatred brings us closer. And finally, a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, and if I wake up tomorrow to find that all my appliances have come to life and burst into song and a gaggle of short bearded guys expecting food and talking about some kind of stolen gold and dragons and crap, I may just have to start taking things a little more seriously ;)
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