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O Holy Night

O holy night when Christ was born,
And in a manger laid;
What love decreed that God should be
The child of a maid?
O holy night the inn was full,
A stable near at hand;
O night of prophecies fulfilled
When Caesar taxed the land.

O holy night the shepherds watched
Their flocks upon the field,
And, lo, the angel of the Lord
With glory was revealed.
"Fear not, behold, I bring to you
Good tidings full of joy;
For unto you is born this day
A Saviour as a boy."

Then suddenly the sky was lit
By angels filled with mirth,
Proclaiming glory unto God
And peace to all the earth.
The shepherds said among themselves,
"To Bethlehem we'll go;
For something great is come to pass
And this we wish to know."

They came and found the newborn babe
With Joseph and his bride;
When they had seen, this news they spread
Throughout the countryside,
And all that heard did wonder great
At things the shepherds told;
But Mary pondered all these things 
Within her heart of gold.

O holy night when God was praised,
O night when hope returned;
O night when angels spake aloud
And skies with glory burned:
O holy night when Christ was born,
And in a manger laid;
What love decreed that God should be
The child of a maid? 

~ Based on Luke 2:7-20 ~ 
~Written for "Here We Go A Caroling".~

The Thought Counts

I wanted to give you twenty
My mom said, "Too much."
I wanted to give you twenty
Mom said, "Ten is enough."

I wanted to give you twenty
You were finally twelve
I wanted to give you twenty
In my mom's purse I could no longer delve

I wanted to give you twenty
Only got ten bucks
I wanted to give you twenty
darn. awe. shucks

Inspired by a card given to my son for his birthday

Winter Is a Vacuum In the Mind

Winter is a vacuum in the mind
when spring knocks with violence at the door.
That death grip shows white knuckles
	and frosted ears.
We are the children of fate,
weathered in frame,
punctuated by seasons.

Hastily we go to warm the limbs
and limbs fold to keep the kindled coal.
Our sorrows are as ice, we chill.
But winter dies as did the warm;
the grip is not defeat
but only a retreat.

The accolades are everywhere 
when the cold grip of winter is released.
The wind carries away the cold
and stores it in some cavern in the north.
Less than this we would be
	not seasoned.

My Past

I refuse to drown in the happenings,
Of perhaps, sordid days, long spent.
For things filed "past" i cannot change,
So they lurk causing me to lament.

My past I liken to a "read only" file,
Where is stored both my days and deed.
Knowing the bothersome can't be removed,
I attempt to cover it with beneficial seed.

But no matter my depth of interment,
Or that from thoughts I've tried to ban.
Satan somehow manages to dig them up,
And stands ready with his watering can.

A Thought
If my past wasn't the teacher
From which I learned the most.
Then in life, I would consider myself failing.

Jack Horne

~~ I have two curious calico cats, and just like them, I am a curious kitty, gosh, I would like to take a long voyage, to England and meet Jack Horne! We have talked by comment, e-mail, letter, I know so much about him and his life, he is a terrible writer so he only types, and mine is not too good either! He says he can read it (thats silly), I sent him a photo of me and the kitties, he wrote back, "just like I imagined", oh Jack, how is the weather today! In rainy Plymouth England, give that birdie Joe a big hug, from your friend in cold, distant Canada, or would that just be silly! Sadly, he tells me Joe is no more, we said kind words for a little tiny bird, "we are poets, Jack," I said to my friend, pour that emotion into the words of a poem! He is always there for me to talk, I can tell him anything happening in my life, the good, the bad and the oh, so ugly, the kindest, sweetest, blessed man! Jack Horne!
_____________________________ August 29, 2012 Verse Submitted into the contest, Write A Poem (old/new), sponsor Judy Konos First Place Featured Poem Week of, March 2, 2015

Hardship that We Face

Through the hardships so many endure,
Is there anything I could say that would help you here
Nothing I do and nothing I say,
Could make that pain simply go away.
I can tell you that I know how you feel,
But we all know that sometimes that's not real.
Each of us have something important to say.
That is why we are here and write this way.
Please join me in saying one simple thing.
Someone somewhere can share in your pain.

Bless you all from the core of my being.
I just wanted to share the one simple feeling.

-Not for any contest, just a thought.



One can never
steal the moment.
Time's arrow,
relatively speaking, 
runs backward 
only at speeds 
greater than light.

But there are moments
when the world is right
if we close our eyes
and you take my hand
we can try.

Peace and War

Restrain your anger Flames and smokey eruptions Only two outcomes here

If history was food part 3

Wg Said the GRACE
And Robbie BURNS the BACON,

And Thomas ask for MORE
Mr KIPLING  baked the cakes
And Jude laid down the law
And Lionel MESSI had to clean up
With Hoover>

Neece and Humbug

It was Valentine when I lost someone dear. This poem is that reminiscence. _____________________________________________________________________| You and I were close. Of course, we were. You my big sister and I am Humbug. Your nickname is Neece - Rosie in school. I remember how you looked when I was only nine. You were a beautiful girl full of life. Us both liked the wrestling and watch this a lot. I became disinterest in the sport. You watched because you said you really enjoyed seeing a man as a punching bag instead of a woman. We would go out uptown and party. We laughed together in our mutual environment. We dance when we wanted to dance. I truly miss you Neece. We are six years apart. Made a difference when I was a girl but now it does not because both of us are adults. You left me on Valentine in 2009. Five years later, I write these lines. I am bereaved; however, I now rejoice in your life. My beloved sister Neece, Rosie such a beautiful name, I see you are in tranquility through an hourglass. Farewell _______________________________________/ User Name: Verlena S. Walker Nom De Plume: Oblivion Dark Sunshine Sponsor: Nette Onclaud Contest Name: Take Two Date of Entry: March 31, 2014 ~This poem was entered Poet Destroyer A Contest Name Any Poem Goes #14 and I do not, for the real of me, know why it did not place in the top three and from there, not at all. Therefore, I am submitting it in your contest Nette - Take Two.

Cupid's Misfire

Though often called by lovers
for my wicked deadly aim
when I sight with an arrow
and I chant the whispered name.

Sometimes, the shot gets tangled.
I don’t like to ricochet
off candidates unlikely
of responsiveness in play.

I’m sorry though... for Mary.
Me feeling hung-over dues...
‘twas cause of the misfire flight,
mispronouncing in the muse.

I targeted her chosen,
and fired a moment too late...
Poor Mary heard the grunting
and a pig stared through the gate.

Next, we hear the crashing sound,
running feet as pig appears
and looking up at Mary
piggish grin with garbage smears.

Now, Mary’s not called stupid
nor in love with new pig friend.
She bargained up the bacon,
smoked the hams and brought the end.

Valentine’s day is coming,
my fear mounts of face to face...
‘cause Mary not forgetting,
last year was the piggy chase.



Ancient tombs, of long ago times
Byblos, the walled city, fortress and shrines
Shrouded in mystery, wisdom's, and thyme
The Phoenicians sailed from this very port
Their ships full of knowledge and the alphabet too

And the peoples from times long forgotten
The ancestors of merchants in the souks of now
The oldest city, charmed by the sea
The churches of St Peter, tell the prophecy

Praise the heavens, the God of your heart
In the language of Jesus, love never parts
Aramaic wisdom's, true to this day
Praise God, his love never swayed

Love of mankind
Love of your soul
Love of the creator

Marhaba is an Arabic  word  used in the Middle East   as “Hello”. 
But most people don’t know its source
Marhaba comes from a Syriac (Aramaic, Assyrian) origin and was used by the first Christians
Mar = Master or God
Haba =Love
Marhaba = God is love

As Catholic churches still give masses in Latin, The Maronite Church still gives sermons in the ancient language of Jesus, Aramaic.

Byblos is an ancient city in Lebanon, Byblos is the Greek name for the Phoenician city called Gebal. Today it is believed by many to be the oldest continuously-inhabited city in the world.

The Sparrow

I walked upon a sparrow sitting on a limb,
her little feathers wet and mottled from a 
spring swim, she played and picked then 
shook her fragile body, stretching her head 
out with a nod, she settled down, nestled,  
she closed her little eyes, quietly, without worry.
As she awoke she expressed her happiness with 
joyous song and weightless sigh, all the while, 
I watch in awe and wonder; how nice it must be 
to have a tree, to sit under,, warm from 
the new morning sun; Ah yes, I should like to be 
a sparrow today, nothing to do but sing and pray.

Inspired by Another

She gazes forth, forlorn, her splendor inspired, her grieving vast 
It was three hundred years since the Bard of Avon did create
An ode to her beauty; a tale of love, of joy, of sadness and of fate
Juliet and her lost love Romeo, forever bound, forever found, forever to last
The image Dicksee created may reconcile lovers torn and passions classed
As futile, unrequited and inappropriate; yet love still lingers
Drawn as much by what can as what cannot be, for nothing alters
What a waste; Oh what we have not learned from mistakes past

So this maiden sweet stands alone, her hands resting on the balustrade
In her eyes an expectant look, longing for her lover to see
Waiting there eternally, patiently, yearning… Her promise made
Serene she waits, for what will never be
She lingers lost in memory, the poet’s pen paid
The artist’s brush stayed, alone to inspire me.

A Rose with no Thorn

A Rose with No Thorn

In the Garden, the bouquet of life
There bloomed a rose whose beauty caught my eye
Incomparable is this rose’s design
Unlike the others, she is not the prickling kind

I know they say that every rose has its thorn
But here blooms the exception, of the spirit she is born
One of a kind, the rarest in form
For she is a rose with no thorn

Oh what a fragrance, so lovely and fair
A scent of sincerity sweeps through the air
A pristine beauty from the realms up above
For she is the flower primeval of love

And as I bask in her blossoms of compassion
I find I am fashioned by love that’s everlasting
And in my heart she’ll always be adorned
For she is a rose with no thorn

Though weeds, thorns and thistles have tried to choke her
The rain has wet her; the sun has even scorched her
But she’ll not wither, neither will she wilt
For she is rooted in the love that God has tilled

Amidst great turmoil, never to be foiled
Arrayed in glory that could never ever toil
One of a kind, yes the rarest in form
For she is a rose with no thorn

Copyright2008 by Kenneth J Thompson

As The Wind Blows - Chan's Memory

As  the Wind Blows

When you feel a warm wind caress your face, do you think of me
Do you hear a soft voice whispering as it rustles the leaves

Sit, close your eyes; do you smell the soft scent carried on the wind
Listen to the trees, they sing a song that was meant to never end

So is the strength of my love, able to be with you though I am not there
Caressing your face through the breeze, its essence carried on the air

The song of the trees, the whisper in the wind, listen with your heart
I am calling to you love, our bodies separated for a time, but our spirits never apart

F. J. Thomas

Though I do not personally believe in heaven and hell 
the same way many do I would hope that, whatever your belief,  
you do believe that he no longer suffers as he was.