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Tranquil Sunday Morn!

On this tranquil Sunday morn, let me share,
A poem to uplift and inspire, with care.
When the sun's gentle rays kiss your face,
Embrace the day with boundless grace.

Let go of worries, troubles of the past,
For today is a chance, a new die cast.
With each rising breath, feel your spirit soar,
Know that within you, endless strength pours.

Dream big, for dreams have no boundaries,
Reach for the stars, with unwavering certainties.
Believe in yourself, your heart's inner fire,
Ignite your passions, let them take you higher.

In the depths of your soul lies a hidden power,
Unleash it, let it bloom like a wildflower.
Embrace the challenges that come your way,
For they mold you, shape you, day by day.

Find joy in the simplest of moments, my friend,
For life's true treasures, often they transcend.
Be kind, spread love, like sunshine's gentle ray,
Illuminate the path for others, show them the way.

Today is a gift, a chance to start anew,
To pursue dreams, to make them come true.
So seize this Sunday with courage and might,
Embrace its essence, bask in its radiant light.

May this poem inspire you to shine,
To embrace each Sunday, oh, so divine.
For within your heart, the power resides,
To make Sundays and every day a joyful ride.
Sunday Morn weather.
The sun appears
bright in the sky,
illuminating the
surroundings with
its warm and vibrant
rays.

A clear blue sky
with no clouds in sight.

It's a wonderful day to
enjoy outdoor activities
or simply bask in the sun's
warmth.
Loving it! Cloudnine
feelings. 😊
It's not Christmas without Santa
Or without the jingle bells
But, in the darkness there's another
Taking children down to hell

Yin and Yang, a balance
There is darkness and there's light
Santa on the left side
And Krampus on the right

Parents watch your children
If they're on the naughty list
Because Krampus is out hunting
And these children are not missed

A myth, or dark reality
A monster from below
Did Johnny just go missing?
Or was he taken down below?

Jingle Bells, both have them
One is joyous, one is not
Santa lives where it is colder
Krampus lives where it is not

Bad children do not fear him
But soon enough, he'll find them out
With dark hair, claws and cloven hooves
They'll learn what he's about

He doesn't have a favorite
He'll take girls as well as boys
He doesn't mind the screaming
In fact, non one hears the noise

So, if a child disappears
And no one seems to care
You'll know he was a bad one
And that Krampus, well, was there
Dave Robertson Dec 2021
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
Dave Robertson Dec 2021
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
Dave Robertson Dec 2021
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
Dave Robertson Nov 2020
Yearning for frost sharp, gaudy lights
in November seems apposite in a year consistently blighted with dull, pedestrian horror

The itch to raise a tree and string lights
to no and every god
could be scratched this time

We can pack our proud sneers
in the loft or attic in exchange for
electric hope and cellophane cheer

As nights draw in
we’ll bluff metaphors of closeness
until a wellspring comes to right us
Nick Strong Dec 2019
Talk to me, talk to me of Old St. Nick
Talk to me of Sinterclaus
Of Mikulas, Pere Noel, or Babbo Natale

Talk to me of candles, christingle and a silent night
Talk to me of crackers, carols and calamities
Talk to me of snow, sleighs, and stars
Talk to me of Christmas cards, wrapping paper
Talk to me of gold, old spice and mice
Talk to me of icing, icicles
igloos, ivy
Holly
Oh sweet Hollie
Tots of Drambuie
Marmalade and toast

Talk to me of Philip Scholfield
Carols From Kings
Mary Poppins
Scrooge
Festive films
Radio Times
And things that are too pretty
Lights, nights
Hark, Dark
barking dogs
tinsel
Tinsel Town
Wolves at the door
Salvation Army playing once more

Talk to me
Talk to me
Cream Crackers, cheese
Frosty mornings, old knees

Talk to me of snow covered alpine forests
Gateaux
Cherries
walnuts and berries
Festive fun,
A seasonal run
Of All Gold telly
With a full belly
Farts, sprouts
Turkey that tastes just like chicken
Oh talk to me of
Terry Wogan
Rosh Jogan
Grogan Josh
Last minute deals
Black Friday
White Friday
And all the Cyber Mondays

Talk to me of
Happy Mondays
Dancing Bez
In a Festive Fez

Talk to me
Talk to me
Of Festive time
Late nights
Early mornings
Beer
Cheer
All in entertainment

Oh talk, TALK to me
Of hangovers,
sleep overs
gloves
mittens
and cute kittens

Oh talk to me of
fake Chanel
Faux Fur and underwear
Celvin Klein

Talk to me , Talk to me of
Jonah Lewie
Bony M
The Pogues
and all those rogues
Fairy tale of New York
Stop the Cavalry
Mary's Boy Child
And the
Spaceman who came riding by

Oh talk, Talk , Talk to me
of places, and spaces We all know
Christmas markets
Tesco, Aldi and John Lewis Adverts showing
Christmas is coming
Christmas is coming
Christmas is coming
Chris
Oh talk to me
Oh talk to me of old St. Nick

Talk to me
Talk to me
Eggnog
Talk to me
Talk to me
Bah humbug
Talk to me
Talk to me
Happy Christmas
Read aloud at speed. Enjoy!
Joseph C Ogbonna Dec 2019
I heard an old old Christmas song
sung by grandma on Christmas eve.
It wasn't in good stanzas long,
but it did the joyous times retrieve.
It gladdened my heart which did grieve
over all I thought I'd done wrong,
and could not annually achieve.
It did convey emotions strong
of joyous moments to relive:
Modest gifts, traditional meals
and the sweet scent of warmth that heals.
Contented in want we all shared
whilst our affections showed we cared.
All on our humble home converged,
in living rooms hardly enlarged.
To drink and eat cheap wine and food,
in unrivaled ecstasy and mood.
Christmas I used to know
harlon rivers Dec 2017
Gray Owl hearkens
the dappled daybreak knell
echoing through
the wildwood forest stand;
rock doves and frosty stones abide,
where a marooned heart doth dwell,
disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch

Timber stand grips tight
red clay and bedrock of ages,
postured tall and strong
as eagle's spirit throne

Pine cones hide
in the low drifting clouds,
ripe acorns tumble down alone
unto  a  windblown
shallow earthen grave,
hillocked  beneath
the sky-high canopy

Bones of branches,
furrowed bark from burled oak,
wood-grains of pith,
natural gnarled achings
peeled by the shivering
wind's breath

Paling autumn memories
grow dim as the receding sunlight,
recollections of ebbing Jasmine's
mellowing fragrant balm
waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy,
the edge of winter metamorphosis
bears down with a prodigious weight
of a different kind of retreating light;

brindled Queen Anne's lace
hold sway across
the tawny frostbitten meadow
imbuing the poignantly
whetting breeze

The blink of an eye winks,
to catch sight of
an intimate glimpse,
an unspoken
solitude holds forth,
the mesmerizing coo of rock doves,
reverently mirroring
the sanctity of the forest wildwood
lingering amongst the frosty
ferns and stones

The harmony of tranquil silence wanders;
only the bowing resistance of the boughs
manifest the shapeless wind’s
whispered  breathe
swirling above the labyrinth threshold;

therein lies an unfractured fault line
rooted deeply beneath
the earth’s crust
like the sonorous heart
of a sanctuary hearthstone

Hence there is symmetry
felt in silence that only whispers
in the deep toned consonant
of our own harbored sighs

a holy human blood link
born of  heritage wilderness heartwood
beats keenly alive


written by:   harlon rivers ... December 2017
Notes: Midwinter orifice into the North-woods

Thank you for looking through a soul's portal at winter solstice
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