They came out of storage, off the rack
around my neck, starting today,
thirteen, maybe fourteen ties
(or at least the ones I’ve found so far)
with the story of Christmas, of the change
of seasons, of the fun and joy of the
holiday, of angels singing, presents wrapped,
garland, holly and ivy, Marvin, of the Grinch, of
Tannenbaum and reindeer, of snowflakes
and wisemen on a journey of faith,
of stockings and snowmen, stocking caps,
covenantal rings, and FAO Schwartz
bringing cheer and smiles in knowing
of the same stories with the people I greet
singing along with the carols on the radio
and wondering at the lights on the houses
along our way; remembering the Babe
and His Story, that started it all, changing
a world in need of healing, as it is still
Made whole in moments of precious time
when He enters our hearts,
at least for this season
each year at Christmas |
|
I sat on a low stone wall Watching the blue blood of the azaleas Spatter on Haworth’s cobbles. A seamless transparency of rain Lowering over the turning trees My thoughts drifting to Claudel’s ‘Five Great Odes’, to the stone marker To the swathes of heather. I stood on the moor top Where the tracks cross The fellside green The fellside ochre, Shifting reflections Of Cйzanne’s last winter. |
|
"Ah! don't you remember, 'tis almost December,
And soon will the holidays come;
Oh, 'twill be so funny, I've plenty of money,
I'll buy me a sword and a drum. " Thus said little Harry, unwilling to tarry,
Impatient from school to depart;
But we shall discover, this holiday lover
Knew little what was in his heart. For when on returning, he gave up his learning,
Away from his sums and his books,
Though playthings surrounded, and sweetmeats abounded,
Chagrin still appear'd in his looks. Though first they delighted, his toys were now slighted,
And thrown away out of his sight;
He spent every morning in stretching and yawning,
Yet went to bed weary at night. He had not that treasure which really makes pleasure,
(A secret discover'd by few).
You'll take it for granted, more playthings he wanted;
Oh naught was something to do. We must have employment to give us enjoyment
And pass the time cheerfully away;
And study and reading give pleasure, exceeding
The pleasures of toys and of play. To school now returningto study and learning
With eagerness Harry applied;
He felt no aversion to books or exertion,
Nor yet for the holidays sigh'd. |
|
Turkey, turkey you're good to eat Turkey, turkey I love your meat. Turkey, turkey with stuffing. Turkey, turkey with gravy. Turkey, turkey |
|
Surprises are round
Or long and tallish.
Surprises are square
Or flat and smallish. Surprises are wrapped
With paper and bow,
And hidden in closets
Where secrets won't show. Surprises are often
Good things to eat;
A get-well toy or
A brithday treat. Surprises come
In such interesting sizes -
I LIKE
SURPRISES! |
|
Holiday poems