Christmas Poems | Examples

Premium Member Santas Village

Santa’s village was on the edge of reconstruction and renovation.
the elves were excited, they held a parade and massive celebration.
Electronics, cell phones and I-pads are sought by children of today.
The workshop was full of antiquated equipment to toss away.

No one wanted wooden blocks or dolls that talk or wiggle.
They still had a filing cabinet of Barbie dolls that had a giggle.
Super hero items are now the absolute must-have rage.
They needed to delete obsolete toys that never reached a finished stage.

Santa’s reindeers were dancing around all joyful too.
They were on permanent break, for deliveries now came through Lou.
Lou was the head elf, and a big proponent of Amazon Prime.
So the reindeers could lay around and dine, all of the time.

Premium Member Winter Wonderland


snow fallling  hot tea a warm fire
a christmas song with words that inspire


Premium Member Celebrating Christmas Without Going Broke



By Christmas Day each father
and mother, also known as Santa and Mrs. Claus,
should have fulfilled “Dear Santa” letters
and other wish lists. They overspend, but for a great cause!

Expensive foods, grandiose home improvements,
and decorations are added. Guests will be so impressed.
Bank balances shrink; credit cards get maxed out,
but—By George!—mom, dad, and kids will be well dressed.

Money’s nil. Overindulgent purchasers question
their sanity: “Why do we do this every year,
spend way beyond our means? Recovery takes months.”
Once again, they’ve robbed themselves of Christmas cheer.

Responsible spending transforms unrealistic views
of how the holiday season should be. We can decorate,
enjoy tasty food, and buy gifts without spending a fortune.
With Christmas in our hearts, we can sincerely celebrate.

Son, Stay Home for Christmas

Son, please stay home for Christmas day,
You are often out in trouble and out at play;
Let's celebrate with our kith and kin
Sharing some cookies and hot tea
Sitting by the fire or near the tree;
Stay home for Christmas, son
Set aside your plans of running away
Stick around with us, stick with me.

Premium Member Raindrops on Roses

in the square, light encircled
choristers of yule
who incanted charmingly
as the dew sank cool
on their rouge berets,
cardinal cloaks with green socks—
a cordant bouquet


White Wilderness

I recall the yelling but silent voice of winter
that broken December when the lights from
lanterns shot up from their wicks with the
fading strength of departing glows abroad.

Twilights hastened through the spine of
receding days, halting the approach of a
wayward Christmas.
The wilderness around us yielded froths from a
puking snowstorm,
fastening laces of Hell with strings of abundant
sleet.

Premium Member The Loneliest Elf

He was Santa's unknown Elf
That they hid in a thicket
Cuz he worked all by himself 
They called him Chimney Cricket 

On the night of Christmas Eve 
He's the first one down the chute
Using nothing but his sleeve
So not to soil Santa's suit

When finishing his cookie
Santa's up the chute again 
Every day since a rookie
He was Santa's lonely friend 

Though he suffered every stain
On his only suit of clothes 
Chimney never would complain 
Even when it clogged his nose

Santa saw he had no joy
So took pity on his plight
Though he never built a toy
He still vowed to make things right 

Thus, he ordered that next year 
All the other Elves must sweep
Santa knew they wouldn't cheer
But at least Chimney could sleep

Christmas In July

I'm sorry I didn't bring 
roses to your funeral. 

I brought a Christmas 
wreath instead. 

I didn't want to symbolize 
your withering, 

I wanted to represent your 
eternity, 

and the joy you brought 
others instead.

The Postman

He schleps constantly at noon
Through declivities and straight roads,
Bearing messages sealed by the hands
That laid them bare in the first place.
Sweat caresses his face, forming one mass of
Earnestness in every breath of delivery.
“Hello,” he says, “your mail. Your package.”
My palm breathes harder, having neared his.
I sign the delivery paper and reach out for the
Package.
He is fussy with time and gets rewarded when
The Christmas bells chime slowly
From wintry belfries posting blandishments of
Yuletide.

Merry Christmas!

A bright coin rolls into his palms and greases them.

He welcomes titbits of news within crimson cards.
His lungs inhale airs of chaperoned champagnes
Amid the voice of canticles, soft and secret.

Finger Print

He was deeply worried,
A problem lay within,
Buried in the depths of his heart,
Countless slaves in his possession.  
He wanted to control
All of them, he needed
A unique identity for each.
Suddenly, he struck upon
The idea of a fingerprint.

White Wilderness

I recall the yelling but silent voice of winter
that broken December when the lights from
lanterns shot up from their wicks with the
fading strength of departing glows abroad.

Twilights hastened through the spine of
receding days, halting the approach of a
wayward Christmas.
The wilderness around us yielded froths from a
puking snowstorm,
fastening laces of Hell with strings of abundant
sleet.

Premium Member Christmas Eve Performance

Three armed teens 
performed a mugging on Christmas eve.
Their target 2A'D them
curing them of their social disease.

By next morning they set up a go fund me 
for the dead and wounded thieves.
Their target was charged in the second degree.

When I was a teen, 
we banged on doors and toilet papered trees...
and felt somewhat guilty.

Premium Member Victorian Christmas Past

Upon a grassy hill, so long ago,
our lovely, old Victorian-style home
was built in eighteen eighty-six, aglow
with cozy rooms and firesides burning bright. 
So charming were the winding stairs that flared
neath the cathedral ceiling's chandelier.
Outdoors, a rolling lawn and gardens spread
beside a stony brook that rambled on.

A time I still remember- Christmas Day
in nineteen fifty-three- age fourteen then,
and I recall those very special hours
at home, so cozy, warm with my loved ones
of many generations, happily
around the sparkling tree with old-time trim
of bubble lights, glass balls, and Christmas songs
playing softly on the record player.

Extended family- my mom and dad,
grandparents, brother, cousins, uncles, aunts-
spent happy hours, and such a blessed time
was shared as peace and love were felt by all
as I, once the youngest, now the oldest
generation, carry on that spirit
and make traditions last, to someday be
my children and grandchildren’s Christmas past.

A Christmas Poem

Ring ting ting-a-ling,
Its that jolly old fat man
With a belly full of jelly,
And that jingle from long long ago...
Ding-dong, ding-dong--
It's that sleigh of reindeer who fly in the sky
That laughter and singing from below and on high--
This is the season
To have a good reason
Ring ting ting-a-ling,
To forget others transgressions and petty deceptions
To join the happy, good cheer,
And begin...
With a joyful New Year!

Fireworks

They rise and sparkle and crackle,
Shaming the nakedness of the skies
And the city, with one frightful flame of
Youth,
Burning with the zest of
Seasonal lore.
At Christmas, they salute the days
Creamed by snow and sleet,
Thrusting in us the wisdom of
Global ceremonies.
They are the lightning of Yuletide —
Lightning unaccompanied by rain.
Shaped in balls and spears, and lean
Fragments of flagrant colours,
They are armed with their own thunder —
Thunder that speaks volumes and calms the rage in
Frenetic dogs.
They are coloured paints splashed lavishly across the broadest
Canvas ever —black and seamless
We see through their lens, the running dusts
Of sparks,
The dancing circus of sky-circuits
And the happy wars waged on the frontiers
Of seasons.
They strobe around the cold earth.
New Year’s Eve is riddled with conundrums,
Waking sleepy souls to sneeze up details of
A frazzled year.
The heavens are lit up lavishly,
Electrified to stupor,
Reminding us of choirs that chorus to the tunes
Of life everlasting.
Carousels ride through our minds, young now,
Old tomorrow,
With sparks that shine this moment
And dim the next.
Such is life.

Specific Types of Christmas Poems

Definition | What is Christmas in Poetry?

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