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Free Verse Holiday Poems | Free Verse Poems About Holiday

These Free Verse Holiday poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Holiday. These are the best examples of Free Verse Holiday poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |


Dead men tell no tails, or so the winds of 
Destiny’s say.
On judgment hill from on high, 
Voices do echo downwards, as the 
Noose does sway, back and forth, on the
Hangman's tree.
These gallows, of oaken branches, act as tethers,
 Shackles, holding the forsaken, souls prisoner.
Ghost phantoms cling, to it's rotten limbs,
That break beneath times endless rampage.
Regrets fallen horsemen, of the old west, 
Stand guard, sentinels on horse back,
Wearing a tarnished tin star.
God's law keepers, are  branded, sworn,
By their honor, to protect even after death,
The gates of heaven, from this spawn of hell.
Beware evil desperadoes, no mercy will
This the lord's posses show unto you, 
For these riders bare a different mark.
A silver cross of justice, given by
The Almighty’s hand himself.
Say thy prayers, all lawless men,
For on this day, does the rope tighten,
Around your neck, there is no reprieve,
No salvation for evils deceit.
Hell bound are thou, the devils breed.
But beware, there is no escape,
From this grave site.
At dawns first light, as it spreads
 Across the western horizon.
Know that yee, are one of many spirits
Doomed, to be weaved within the
Tangled limbs, called the hang
Mans tree.










Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Whistle does the lone desert winds, flowing downwards from
Boot hill cemetery, in icy chilling breeze full of echoing voices,
From the past, begging for redemptions last chance of salvation.
Roll does the crimson tumbleweed, towards the ghost town known as
Tombstone, a monuments graveyard to the old west.
In this rock cactus garden of venomous vipers, did the righteous
Live, amongst the uncivilized lawless, in this wildness country,
Of the unbridled frontier.
Blinded by greed's lightning flash, for quick money and easy cash,
Did the earth expose evil's shining metal, silver, from deep within,
Accursed is this place, purgatory's hell on earth, its deadly soil marred
And sanctified in blood sacrifice.
Left to the scorpions and rattlesnakes, as the only living inhabitants,
Ramshackle buildings remain, abandonment’s delinquent tribute
To a once thriving community.
But after night fall, others come forth, crossing the threshold of the
Nether underworld, the gun slinger, the gambler, and ladies of
Reputation's ill repute, claim this desert real estate for their own
Dark amusement park, still whooping it up at the bird cage theatre,
Indulging themselves. In all manor of seductions insidious erotic acts
Of depravity.
The condemned soulless walk these dusty sandy streets of limbo,
Forever banished are these bastered son's of the gun. Or until the last
Shot is fired at the O.K. Corral, on high noon's final sunrise.
Satan is the lawful sheriff here, in this the territory of the forsaken,
And his loyal deputy the Grim Reaper controls the posses of the undead.
Riding against the redden moon, seeking any innocent soul trying
To escape from this desert prison.
You've drawn the dead man's hand my friend, if you find yourself lost here,
For the condemned show no mercy's reprieve to outsiders, the screaming
Souls shout from above, run lone cowboy run, and don't look back,
For the devils possess rides behind thee, and the dark lord,
Takes no prisoner's alive.
Whistle do the lone desert winds, flowing downwards from
Boot hill cemetery, in icy chilling breeze full of echoing voices,
From the past, begging for redemptions last chance of salvation.
But light concurs darkness, and death's icy grip fades at the 
First rays of sunrise, and all evil must return to their crypts
Beneath the earth, from the dust from when'est they came, 
Until the next moon's rising, then wide will the gates of hell,
Swing again, releasing the germinate residences of a city,
Named Tomb Stone.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

Sight, Sound and Scent

When I think of the bygone Christmas images that come to my mind are candy canes, cookies and popcorn strands adorning the Christmas tree. The popcorn strands are easier to make and still, I think,it's a family project. I know, decorating with cookies difficult but feel their homey feel with cookie cutters which can be napkin rings for the table Hear the sleigh bells ring creating the quintessential Christmas melody hang a strap of sleigh bells on your front door warm sounds, a great greetings for the guests. but the best sound is children’s laughter and the squeals of glee, as the presents opened. Think of the toys that simple things you might have played with a child like a jack-in-box or spinning circus top. Spices, bayberry and baked things are all scents that evoke the holidays. Choose the Christmas décor that appeals not only to eyes but to the nose and ears, drape fir branches tied with a red bow above the door.
+++ November 29, 2014 Form: Free Verse First Place win

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta

Details | Free verse | |


Wrought liquid metal, hued in the fire's of hell,
Pored into a castings shell, then hammered well,
By the angry fists of Satan himself, behold the skeleton key.
Accursed by evil's malevolent spell, one size fits all,
No locked doors can resist against its turnings twist,
Opening unto the supernatural's mystical power, and unlocking
Humanity's hidden passages and darkest corridors,
Leaving no secrets left unspoken or in silence.
Crimson blood spewing forth from corrupted key holes, oozing
Downwards unto the floor below, staining ancient
Tapestries of the royal gentries, and the upper classes refined.
Skull to the cross bones, it possesses a will of its own, 
A vile living entity, with its own consciousness.
Molding, reshaping itself at pleasures dark whim, 
Feasting on hatred's malice, then releasing it unto the world
Of men.
A twisted wanton thing, laughing with intentions cruelties,
And relishing in our agonies pain.
But Homo sapiens are a curious species, never realizing when to
Leave things well enough a lone.
We must know what lies beyond that forbidden
Door, where mankind is not allowed to trespass.
In these dark places of shadows ethereal, it rocks in a fetal 
Ball, a creature, waiting to be disturbed, go then seek what lurks therein,
If you dare, only the key knows what it really is, and it laughs,
At our ignorance, mocking us in the darkness.
Four it is the beast, chained and shackled within our worst
Nightmares, a fierce devilish demon, that pierces through the
Darkest of night, to hunt the innocent souls of wayward men.
You've have ventured to far, beyond thy safety zone of no return.
Four death lies in those reddened eyes that watch you within 
The darkness.
If you move it will attack, motions movements attracts
Attentions reactions, so remain frozen there is no safety's retreat
Thou'art trapped, again the key so laughs in the abyss,
Mocking at humanity's ignorance.
Shaking with anticipations glee, it begs the next
User to place it into the key hole, of the unknown, come along 
Now what can it hurt, just one little peek, let’s look beyond the crimson
Door, as the skeleton key heckles with unbridled happiness.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

Time Out

Make no haste,
your work is restless.

Aeon give me pause--
no more ticking
gears grinding
ever towards the
lonely end.

Live the now.
Even Death took
a holiday,
veering briefly from an
eternity of reaping

Take your time
on earth and
overindulge in
Rest assured,
oblivion can

Copyright © Hyle Chu

Details | Free verse | |


In the cradled of life's dark garden,
It dwells amongst the murky waters
Behold the creature from the black lagoon.
Nay what is this creation, neither fish or 
Yet a blending of both, a high bread's mixture,
Intelligent, and cunning, the last of his species,
To survive.
Brought unwisely did men, bring beauties
Forbidden fruit, unto this lost oasis of Eden.
For alone sentinel awaits to partake in such
A luscious morsel.
So does it not say in biblical text, go forth
And multiply, by a driven basic instinct he
Cautiously watches from the thicket brush.
What a graceful motion moves within the
Jungles domain, 
She swims idle caught unaware, the bride
To be herself, charms him with every stroke
Across this lake placid.
With Chameleon like stealth, the groom appears,
Taking his prize to their cavey honeymoon retreat.
So tenderly he greets his mate, from shocks
Dreamy like state she awakes, and recoils in repulsion.
No love's scorn, and tragedies broken heart,
Can do more damage than rejections expulsion.
Bullets may have cut the flesh to the bone,
But was it not beauty, which killed the beast,
And the last sight he saw, was his love in
Another's arms.
So ends natures final verse in this evolutionary
The creature from the black lagoon now lies
Dead, upon this tragic stage of life.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Is it simply just a wooden music box?
Charming the human soul, with its melodic undertone,
What a hypnotic melody it so plays, enticing the listener
With its delicate waltz' sweetly strumming, exposing it's
Mystical quality of the supernatural
By its spiritual essence attractant, I'm thus so memorized,
A ballerina dancing in step, with the spell cast upon me,
Thus do so I spin, on this stationary pedestal, unable to move
On my own volitional power of chose and free will, 
I've be consumed utterly,
By the haunting tune, compelling me do its evil bidding.
The notes grow slower, unwinding until perfectly still,
But I'm not in a daydreams nightmare, I suddenly realize 
This absurdity is reality, has become real.
I'm that tiny figure within a child's musical box,
Frozen in stances freeze, unable to cry
Out for help, for made of wax am I now.
Then the lid is gently shut upon me, and in the
Darkness a sadistic voice, heckles and mocks
Me, speaking in musical notes it sings a deadly
Lullaby, rest eternal my beauty for you belong
To me now.
I've become a play thing to be tormented,
Languishing within this jewelry box.
Caught in this land of giants, whom wind
These musical chimes, to join me as a 
Prisoner's collection, of a thief called music.
Whom orchestrates this symphony of the demonic?
I dare not ask, for the voices anger would
Ravish what little is left of my humanity,
So I smile, and I dance at its pleasures
Whim, but within my soul a flickering
Ray does burn still, and it is called hope.
The music screams in terror's disbelief,
For the giants house has caught in flames,
And now he is the prisoner captured
Within a wooden tinder box.
I do so smile as I myself melt away,
Listening to the voice begging for help,
But no one comes to aid such evil as he.
But I am free at last, and except death
As a comforting friend's reprieve,
From the beast, is it just a simple?
Wooden music box.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

What's up with Santa

                                             What’s up with Santa
                                            He's acting like a child.
                        Santa Claus is upstairs in his big red sleigh bed, 
                           warm and cozy in his red flannel comforter, 
                           wearing his red dropseat pajamas, and hat
                                               sick with the flu, 
                                       constantly ring that darn bell. 

                                          Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                                             There it goes again 
                             Yessss… Dearrrr… I know you don’t feel good,
                           your throat hurts and is sore when you swallow 
                  your body is in pain, like a herd of reindeer has run over it 
                 A warm cup of hot cider and a cinnamon stick to give it flavor
                                               will ease the pain.

                                  I should have never given him that bell  
                                           Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                       Yessss… Dearrrr… I know your frequently, coughing 
                       is making your rib cage feels like it’s going to break
                          I will get some milk and chocolate chip cookies  
                                  so you don’t have to get out of bed

                    I wish Santa would quit constantly ringing that darn bell.
                          If he hadn’t shoveled the snow off the sidewalk 
                  and let the elves do their jobs, he wouldn’t be sick right now

                                            Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                     Yeessss… Deeaarrrr… I’m sorry your head is stuffed up, 
                              nose is red, hurts, and won’t quit running
                                 Reading the Naughty or Nice List 
                      will help you not think about what you're going through

                                 What came over me to let him have a bell

                                           Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                Yeessss… Deeaarrrr… You’re running a fever, freezing, and shivering
                               I will go inform the elves not to dawdle
                            keep making the toys in Santa’s workshop 
                           and make sure they take care of the reindeer

                 Oh! My! I hope Santa gets well before Christmas gets here, 
                                 so he’ll get better and out of my hair
                                or I am going to hide that dumb bell

By Eve Roper 

Copyright © Eve Roper

Details | Free verse | |

Queen's forest

In Queen's forest,
squirrels thrill with their tails,
sweet fruits compete for bite.
There I shall holiday
and refill me with hunting game.

30 syls.
Name: Kayod5.
Contest title: Somewhere.
Date :10.1.15

Copyright © KAYOD5 Kayode

Details | Free verse | |

Through Telescope Eyes...Valentine....

My desire is not for chocolates…
                       just for the taste of you
          so sweet on my tongue
(it lingers there as Ghirardelli does)

Do not give me pink stuffed bears 
if your arms will hold me 
                         on these tossed sheets
(embrace me tight and bridge this space)
                  I send (eyes open) 
crimson shed wishes
                       on passion tossed seas
and warm tender kisses
                                 I plead on my knees

Blood red hearts ooze on this page
 Every beat…(feel its rage)
           My heart emits
desperate calls….
                    a whisper on your wind
           (catch it please)

Unearthed flowers are useless…
they wither away
                       into the dust….
(though, calla lilies...if you must)

But you…
                 you are eternal…..

I want no message 
                      bought from hallmark
           (much too sterile)

Spill on pages words from you
            that breathe 
    the breath of life to me

Your heart….it is my reason....

Your soul…
It reflects a sliver satin shatter
                   dusting in my own 
A voice…it seems…
                    I have always known

Reminisce this…
Giggles on the pillow
Hushed morning voices
Precious tender moments
lost inside your eyes

Kiss me awake
                      with all your hunger
           (lips of desire)
           Catch this fire!
Tempt me hotly
                      with your touch
I’m still afraid
                when I feel this much
Make me mindless
               for suspended moments
Scattered within 
                   your dazzling brilliance
Flames of burning
                             and rich ruby red
(much like the sunset sky)

“Good morning….my valentine…
         and good night…too”
        I will drink red wine
          and dream of you…

In sweet rainbows colors 
if your were mine....

Through telescope eyes...
My Valentine....

Copyright © Christie Moses

Details | Free verse | |


On the black stallion of death,
Its red crimson eyes pierce through the night,
And the hell's beast breathes its hot brazen breath
Blazing against the darkness's chilling air!
Does he ride, this phantom of the dead,
Wielding vengeance's sword.
With one hand on the hilt of the blade,
The other arm reaching outwardly,
One finger pointing at his intended victim!
Screaming with a blood curdling howl,
Give me your head vermin, or I'll cut
It off myself, than laughing at their fear!
Beneath crimson fire moon, this hooded and caped,
Death's stalker, hunts down the innocent
Taking that which he desires the most
Their essence of life!
Run to the bridge's safety salvation lies
At the other end beyond.
For these waters cleansing baptism,
Could swallow him whole.
The headless horsemen cannot cross,
These blessed waves of sanctuary,
Or banished is he, hell bound for eternity.
This highway man, rides devastation’s
By ways, of the unknown.
Seeking to restore mind and body,
This Hessian with aggression,
Yearns for justices revenge, to what
Ends bequeath, he cares not, the price
To be paid, in human flesh and blood.
On Saint Hollows Eve, the horsemen
Gallops, across dead-man’s boundary,
Awaiting the stray trespasser, to trip into
His well-hidden trap.
Than striking without mercy's sake,
With its sharpened edge, steel slices
The mortal flesh, taking his prize,
The headless horseman rides away
Into the night.
Yelling, I'll return next Hollows Eve, be thee
So warned, for your salivations sake alone,
Don't tread in Sleepy Hollow after dark!.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Made is she of the finest porcelain, that daddy's
Money can buy, with soft raven tresses, and blue
Hued shining eyes.
My pretty Polly baby doll, has a hand painted on
Smile, and long curly eye lashes, that bat and blink,
When one is not watching her, my cleverest of play
Mates is she.
You must understand one thing perfectly clear, dear
Friend, my pretty Polly is no ordinary standard toy,
Yes, I fully know that children have a vivid imagination,
But sir or madam, I've seen it for myself, and felt her
Malevolent presence.
At first it was fun, playing these haunting games,
A trickster’s paradise, she'd laugh and giggle, with
Fiendish delight’s pleasure.
But I'd always get blamed for the mischief, she'd get
Us into, so I decided that I wouldn't play with her anymore.
So I tucked my pretty Polly in a trunk, in the upstairs attic,
And locked it up good, and tight.
Later on that very same night, when I took off my slippers,
And said my prayers, I snuggled beneath my comforting covers,
Then beside me I realized in sheer terror, there she did lie,
Smiling back at me, with those great big blue eyes.
In the quiet and stillness of my very own bedroom,
She did so whisper in a gentle sadistic voice, cuddling ever
Closer to my tender year’s youthful ear, don't ever do
Something likes that ever again.
This is when I lost my childhood innocence, it was then
That I realized the true matrix of our relationship, that I
Was Polly's pretty playmate, not the other way around?
Time passed by slowly after this earth shattering event,
Deadly tea parties, hurtful games of hide and go seek,
Until one day she turned her delicate porcelain face
Away from me, announcing in a curt and mischievous voice,
I'm rather quite bored with you.
The next morning when I awoke she, my pretty Polly
Baby doll had gone, never to be seen again.
When questioned by my Papas, about her whereabouts,
I gave him the same chilling smile, which this haunted
Doll my pretty Polly, had given me time and time again,
Well I'm not sure, she's lost my dearest father.
Oh that's a shame my little child, would you like
Another one to take her place, no I replied, a hug
Will do instead, just fine!!!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

Golden Dreams

The Leprechaun.

Run, run, run as fast as you can...
I'm still gonna get you, my little green man...
I grabbed on to the gold buckle on his waist...
I held him down, with no time to waste...
I tied The Leprechaun to a hollow tree,
Broke off a branch and poked him on the knees.
I kept on poking him with a stick.
I kept nagging him to reveal his magic trick.

This little shamrock kid would not break.
He kept insisting THE LEPRECHAUN legend was fake.

This little odd dwarf kept lying about his mythical pot of gold. 
I kept repeating all the stories I've been told..  
Nagging him and nagging him~ FOR HIS POT OF GOLD!
He lied, about the fables, telling me his gold does not exist...
The Leprechaun refused to hear the clover list...


It's been 7 days!
And, still he won't give up, what's at the end of the rainbow. 
Tickling his little Eskimo toes,
Running feathers underneath his nose. 
"Look you little green treasure troll, I've captured you, and demand the gold!"
"You won't get me with your tricks!"
"So don't even try to outwit me with your silly MAGIC!" 

I suppose his silver-tongue, will have to do,
And the little gold buckles on his shoe.
I got tired of trying to make him see, my point of view.
I got a better deal and trade for a monkey at the zoo.
Now the lions are enjoying a Pot of Leprechaun Stew. 
After All! 
Nothing I did, made him unfold.
All I wanted was his pot of gold!


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Free verse | |

Teardrops In Paradise Protest Write II

We`re on our way
Visiting good old friends from Norway
Now living in Turkey
Its the smiling country

We got everything we need..and more so
Romantic evenings with candlelights on the table
Eating out everyday,and watching the perfect sunset
The scenery is beyond spectacular

Not so nice sceneries comes sneaking into my thoughts
TV news shows an infant,shot to death..right through her chest
Another infant penetrated by grenade splints,now laying dead on a table
Her father screams in pure anger,anxiety and endless grief
More than 200 innocent civilians found,sliced to death by the army
Schools..hospitals are being used as canon targets
Civilians being forced to walk infront of tanks..defenceless kids most of them
Just in case resistance groups should make any attempt to stop these heavily armed forces

They are used as living targets
All within the hour from a holiday paradise in Turkey

Tears are shed for you..brothers and sisters
Your life is bleeding out of you..but your spirit will fight `til the bitter end
How cruel..How unfair it all is in this world
My thoughts and prayers are with you Syria

April 4th 2012

Copyright © Arild Andresen Ertsland

Details | Free verse | |

Be My Valentine

*Would you Could you, Be My Valentine*

A Simple yes or no would do!!


Would you, 
could you be mine?

To: ALL the poets on the soup
From: The Poet Destroyer
<3 <3 <3

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Free verse | |

Bad Jack

There’s nothing all that scary about a jack ‘o lantern. It’s just a hollow pumpkin with customary mouth, nose and eyes carved to form the usual wry face. . . Imagine that same pumpkin on Halloween night - lit up on the porch of some dark and eerie lonely worn out house. And there’s no one there but you! You approach the door but get a strange vibration this is not a house for trick or treating! No one seems to be there, and yet. . . as you turn to go, you are sure that you can see writhing worms and cockroaches come crawling from the flashing eyes and the grinning orifice of that pumpkin face. And you can almost swear, as your skin turns into goose flesh, that you hear that bad Jack snigger, his bright eyes trained on you as you rush off. He’s laughing at the humanness in you.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

Details | Free verse | |

whispers in silence

What keeps me awake
When the cool breeze bears whispers of things to come
Promises to be fulfilled on the morrow?

Is it my joyless moment of cognizance
knowing that this stagnant night ripples from no real breeze
Only imagined promises birthed on the whims of a longing heart?

Yet, what keeps me awake
is not these dreams of flattering winds
but it is this night of lifeless branches and unrifled leaves
the lack of real whispering winds taunting my heart
What truly keeps me awake
Is the silence of tomorrow.

Copyright © Samir Georges

Details | Free verse | |

Halloween Night

Across the land he strides this night,
Amide the living and the dead.
He goes confidently in search of a fight,
Harboring no amount of dread.
He seeks those going bump in the night,
Including the living dead.
Cross bow at ready with hidden knives,
He’ll clear this land he’s said.
Wow to the wicked on Hallows Eve,
Be careful as you run amuck, and hide wherever you will…
For Van Helsings aim is straight and true,
As is his beating heart, a rare few have ever imbued.
And of course those magnificent fighting skills…
No one can ever outdo.
Consider well your choice of path between evil and the good,
For Van Helsing’s waiting right ahead…
To take good care of you.

Contest: Halloween Night

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Free verse | |

Easter in San Francisco, 1999

Our dreams begin to open on the ninth floor
of the Marines Memorial Hotel.
Clean tombs equipped with all that is needed
for a weekend to die for.
Guests view what they can see at their level.
Flags wave from rooftops of skyscrapers, 
like spring flowers praising the high winds.
Below a jungle of souls
in hypnotic allegiance flow past 
concrete fields choked with roads.
Fatigued, dormant dreams weakly climb
praying to continue, to go on, 
Hoping to recognize
silence as it sings a sacred invitation
to follow the fire of morning.
In our room we listen to the 
television flicker between old graying movies
and a war in Kosovo.
At the window we have the luxury to turn away. . .
and witness the massacre of our afternoon.
Hail stones bullet the sunlight,
day bleeds pools of darkness.
Night falls to the light
Colors resurrected in our hearts
glow triumphant, emblazoned with life.
Who do you tell what your heart sees?
Who would believe the sound of it?

Oh Love, Oh Light--

"Please stay with us,
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over."   luke 24:29

Copyright © Tamra Amato

Details | Free verse | |







your choice
      of illumination.

**oct 30, 2010

Copyright © binibining P.iNk

Details | Free verse | |

Sailing Away

Cruising the Mediterranean
I don't wish to fight any more
I want to enjoy the sunset
On the sea I so adore

Please hold your tongue
In silence,
View the beauty all around,
Tend the sails with care
So we don't run aground

I'll make us Margaritas,
We'll dine in finest style
As our sloop carries us
Through many a sea mile

No fighting, please,
I beg you,
Let this be a sailing
in but total peace,
And anger and misunderstanding,
I pray that they do cease

So hold me as you did once,
No question of our love,
And watch the Albatross
As he flies off with the dove

The soothing sea to rock us,
As if babies in need of sleep
And the new memories we create
Forever shall we keep.

Copyright © tom bell

Details | Free verse | |

Dragon Holiday

            Dragon Holiday
      (Be careful what you eat)

Dad and I went hunting on giant’s mountain
They sleep for hours at a time so we climb kinda sneaky
Crawl real slow over their big arms and limbs
And noses that snore louder than the wind
Our hunger grew as we entered dragon valley
We had our sights set on a baby one
They are easy to catch and put in a bundle bag
We charm them with a cookie and a smile
I had dragon burgers on my mind
They say the tail is tender and delicious 
We love it with cranberries on the table with side dishes
A young blue dragon galloped up to us and spoke
He said his name was Teddy
I said, my name is Dave.  This is my dad
And what a coincidence!  I have a bear at home called Teddy
Would you like to join us for Thanksgiving Dinner?
Another coincidence popped up
They too have a holiday the same as us
And call it, The Celebration of Breathing Fire
His mom and dad said yes to dinner
But we couldn't put him in a bundle bag
As dragons don’t like to suffocate
We were so happy to find our talking friend called Teddy
That we could no longer think of serving him as food
Next to the turkey or even as a side dish
Because he was so polite and oh so civil
We simply had him as our guest for dinner
The moral to my story is
Eat your dinner but don’t eat your friends
The end

Created on 10/18/14 for- Fable to the Rescue – Poetry Contest

Copyright © Earl Schumacker

Details | Free verse | |

A Forgotten Box

He, the Master of all living beings, wonders why he’s been shut out. It is the free will He gave us at birth that allows us to block out His intentions. Jesus came to Earth as a Savior, born in a manger’s tiny crib. It’s His birth we celebrate on Christmas Day, but the meaning of this holiday is hidden by plastic trees with glittering lights, designed to make each heart feel bright. But it doesn’t work, does it? The gifts, the stress, the obligations come around each year in December. When we take Christ out of Christmas, we stow Jesus away in a forgotten box
*Entry for Curtis’s contest

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

Details | Free verse | |

Bethlehem's Star

Bethlehem’s star luminous cross delicately hung by cherubs adorning a cold night sky The warmth of a promise yet to be fulfilled lured shepherds and wise men alike to a humble manger where a Savior drew his first breath exhaling in the bitter air of a world He sought to save

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire

Details | Free verse | |


Given are we the name of the vampire, creatures of the forbidden,
Driven to live forever within the shadows, or die
Beneath a wooden steak, through our black hearts of pure evil,
But in reality, we are so much more than fictions fantasy tails!
Passions blood devils, quenching our thirsts of desire beneath
The Flickering lamp light of centuries, the ageless immortals,
Entombed within the cryptic blood covenant of the fierce!
The children of the night, who bear the mark of the carnivorous beast,
Behold our dark father, whom dwells in the blackest pitch of hells
Crimson kingdom of death,
We are the lunar descendants of legacy's blood brethren, transfusions mutant
Disciples of darkness, prime evil chameleons of illusion and deception,
Invoking predators, feasting on the exposed under belly of humanities
Breasts of the sinful soul.
Abominations blasphemers, of the elliptical salvation of the divine,
Winged serpents of the devil's spawned, vampiric snakes curling around
The throats of mankind, infusing them with our deadly venomous poison!
Hooded cobras, existing underneath the veiled silhouette
Of the translucent moon, ebony dragons of twilight, flapping against
The harvest of the newly born undead!
White lilies of fleshes innocence, are lain to rest at the mausoleum of the forsaken,
Tender are the leaves of the blackened flowers of the newly pronounced dead,
These delicate petals are so cast a sunder by the winds breathe of the demonic moon!
Legends beasts of the fields to be feared, the unkempt, and unclean
Spiritual wracks hidden until night falls veil descends, but within us
Is a living piece of humanity, desiring to love, procreate and spawn,
Those of our kind, to invoke others of our species!
Beneath the earth is a world of living death, the kingdom of the undead,
Given birth by the slaying of the sun, here is our unholy domain of darkness,
For we are the cursed and the shunned!
My kind seeks the soleus of the shadows, bathing in the cold warmth of
The moons chilling air, we so soar beyond the tethers of humanity,
Swaying between the shifting clouds of gossamer, into a world of spiritual
Uplifting, singing the praises of our dark father, for we are the children of
Night off spring of the immortal one, the devil’s own kindred of the blood!
Given are we the name of the vampire, creatures of the forbidden,
Driven to live forever within the shadows, or die
Beneath a wooden steak, through our black hearts of pure evil,
But in reality, we are so much more than fictions fantasy tails!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |

Christmas Eve

She enters the bedroom and locks the door
A few deep breaths, a precious minute alone
She sighs, takes a moment, to unwind and restore 
A brief chance to re-group... refresh.., tidy her hair....
Her blouse has a splatter, ....what should she wear?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she closes her eyes, with no one to peek
Lies back, her thoughts swim, easy it would be to curl up and sleep...

A hectic day....they had arrived early in the morning
Like swarms of bees
Buzzing frenetically...dispersed quickly throughout
A tidal wave of activity,
A house, bulging at the seams..
Once again, home for the holidays
The brood...all her chicks and, and the cackle of offspring
Home to roost....

Beyond the closed door, the house is filled with small, distant sounds.
A clatter of dishes from the kitchen, oops sounds like something broken..
Someone is laughing.....someone else is talking politics.. 
Good smells of dinner, and bayberry candles scent the air.
Faint strains of music from the stereo,  Perry Como's joyful voice
One of the children is whining with a yowling fervor that her sibling has pushed her

Okay...time is up, ......she must check on dinner...
Turning out the bedroom light, stepping into the hall....
She stops,...hesitates just for a moment...
"Thank you, Lord...for these sounds, these smells, these precious moments....
Thank you for these many blessings....
Thank you for this most wonderful, happy year....

Thank You"....

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Free verse | |

After Christmas Sigh

All gift's delivered

Some few still under the tree,

Voices filled with thanks!

Children jumping with glee...

Now we sit and sigh

Making plans for the 4th of July,

And Valentine's day


and so many more

In celebration of something,

Another Birthday for someone we adore...

There is money to be spent,

In spite of the economy

We rework our budgets wishing we were worry free.

Ah, but someone was happy today

twas Christmas, 'twas Christmas,

Copyright © Cynthia Alvez

Details | Free verse | |

More Than A Dream

Written in honor of Black History Month-February 2010-

I have a dream……
	That there will be no more labels of “Black” or “White”
	That people will come home to their families and relax at night
I have a dream……
	That no one will second guess, because of my skin color, my character 
	That I will never in my life hear the words, “Nigger” or “Cracker"
I have a dream……
	That should I marry a black woman it will be totally acceptable in society
	That people of all races would not be judged by their tastes in variety
I have a dream…….
	That if I have a bi-racial child he or she will be accepted by their peers
	That they’ll be given an equal chance to pursue their choice of careers
I have a dream…….
	That more leaders, like Dr. Martin Luther King will be raised
	That the tragedy of his death would be erased
I have a dream…….
	That all races will stand hand-in-hand, until the “Twelfth of Never”
	That people in the world would become color- blind, forever
I have a dream……
	But….this is more than a dream to me
	I pray that I may awake and find these things have become reality!!!

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson

Details | Free verse | |

last night i dreamt

Of january starting a new year

Of heart messages written on colored paper in february 

and my birthday in april 
of green cabbage and corned beef in march

Of hot dogs and hamburgers in may for memorial day

 the beginning of summer in june

And fireworks in july

The summer coming to an end in august

Labor day gatherings before the kids start back to school in september

Spooks and goblins prancing through the street in october

A turkey feast in november

And everyone opening gifts in december.  

July 27,2013.         Humorous

Copyright © karen croft

Details | Free verse | |

Georgia Muse

I went to Georgia without my bonjo in my hand I knew it would be great after I landed and took a stand I told them my name and they asked, "What's your fame?" I reached for my muse and turned it loose like a goose They straightened their ties and said “O’ me, O’ my!” “We made a mistake about this poetic rhyming guy!” Someone handed me a bonjo and they all joined the tango My muse had its way and we had a wonderful stay As we departed for home they started to sing, “Hurry back poet, may your muse give you wings!”

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr