When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea
With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the center of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winter-wonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand
And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each one and still I wanted more
The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again
You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
Written: Jan 15, 2011
Author: Elaine George
First Place in Brian Strand's contest: Let's See
4th Place In - Anything goes contest
In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George'.
When I was a child of three, I Went to live for a year with my Grandparents in Nova
Scotia. At that time my Grandfather was a retired Sea Captain of a Three Mast
Schooner. He had spent most of his life at sea, taking lumber and coal to New
Brunswick and various ports in the U.S. and in the winter months, would carry on to
pick-up and deliver cargo in the West Indies. Although my time with him was short,
the memories we shared have comforted me through-out the years.
Copyright © Elaine George
I do not know?
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Copyright © nicholas windle
As heavy frost settles 'pon the brown hill
And floats down to the level, thoughts are stilled
Words rise up to nettle but spirits thrill
Winter's north breeze meddles_ spring's buds to kill
Japanese Magnolia's buds wait until
spring's warm rains flood the earth; then sap buds fill.
Winter's pause, earth lauds rebirth, and birds' shrill
Vexing cold squads stay away and be still
At spring's rebirth be awed, winter's cold distill
Death where is resurrection's applaud, still
Waiting for spring's hallowed birth, rapture's real
Transformation follows, one's fate sealed
Not part of the poem:
There is a powerful difference in having to say something
and having something to say!!
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Interlocking Rhyme
Written: January 19,2015
Copyright © Sara Kendrick
Wisdom of Winter
Oh, the memories of Spring
Much more the sweeter grow,
When you are at Autumn’s end
And faced with Winter’s snow.
Oh, the new and budding things
That make for Spring’s delight,
Fast mature in Summer’s day
To fade in Autumn’s night.
Oh, that it were Spring again,
Life pulsating anew…
Hope dancing in its gentle breeze
And promise in its dew!
If only Spring could visit once again
Perhaps we’d breathe much slower…wiser be,
And linger longer on its lovely path
Of carefree, sweet and dear simplicity!
But one cannot be wise in days of Spring
For it’s a time to chase and capture dreams…
And only Winter lives to savor joys
Of every passing season’s life-filled themes.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Rock Me Around the Clock or Rock Me to Sleep—Rhythm Poems
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Copyright © Sandra Haight
Scrumptious sight of prairies and grass
Ardent beaming of flower buds and buzzing bees
Leafless coils, branches of trees become alive
Hastening! Arousing everyone's joy and vive
Everyone happy on cheerful springtime!
A cotillion trips and chirps of jolly birds
From some distance, I have started to heard
Fantastic shun and kisses of pretty butterflies
Tempting all species of flora and fauna to thrive
Welcoming, beckoning the heat of summertime!
First crisp of breeze, creating dew in morning
Canopy of red and orange leaves from branches, enchanting!
Turning the world into a canvass of nature's brush
Unnoticeable, such romantic dash making anyone blush
Revel, embrace the sweet amorous season of autumn!
Solid chilling raindrops of snowflakes
Giving warning: careful during breaks
Covering branches, bringing icy cold aches
Yet, skiing an exhilarating cool escape
Delight in the coolness ambiance of winter!
CONTEST: MEMORIES ON BRANCHES
SPONSOR: GAIL ANGEL DOYLE
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Cold Death Savages, So Spring's Life Will Grow
The hills, valleys and flowers are fast asleep
where the river flows winding.
Chills come, furry critters are burrowing deep
cold hardships most are finding.
Old man Winter awaits its rapidly emerging cues
trees shudder in their roots.
Cold comes ravaging to create sweet Spring news
as man puts on deep snow boots.
Rivers freeze and no longer feed the blue seas
some ache hard in the waiting.
All year long honey stored up by the honey bees
tis' wisdom in such anticipating.
The hills, valleys and flowers buried in snow.
Cold death savages, so Spring's life will grow.
Robert J. Lindley, 10-06-2015
Copyright © Robert Lindley
I do not know?
Walking down old familier streets
On such a beautiful day
The first day of winter
Clear and serene
With a cool subtle breeze
After the rains, they have all gone away
White floating clouds, scattered amid the sky
With its sunshine, piercing through the trees
Radiant; enchanting; like crowns of light
Down Echo Avenue I stroll, once again of course
Kimala, life, more....
Near the corner of Elizabeth
I suddenly stop and I turn
Looking back toward Pacifica
Trying to touch, what once was mine
The whistle of a train, begins to sound in the distance
And in that moment; this moment, for an instant
I feel the rush of love, flowing upon my heart!
I turn back around
And I look ahead....
And it hits me, it hits me
How wonderful; how amazing
Life, and all of its moments, its seasons, and its years
Because of others; because of "God"
Copyright © John Rhinem
I watched the penguins woddle along,
On cold-hard ice; where they belong.
From water to land, they scurried around,
Flapping their feet on frozen ground.
Herds of them were standing still,
Settling down to a long cold chill.
Mother passes her egg to father carefully;
Knowing he'll care for it, so, naturally.
He'll protect it from the harsh-cold nights,
In a warm snug pouch away from sight.
For mother must find many fish to catch,
While father stays until it is hatched.
Long-dark days of Winter will change to Fall,
Returning mother, with, her familiar call.
Such a sweet sound for father's ear,
Ending another, long-cold Winter year.
Giving father penguin a much needed break,
For their chick is born and fully awake.
With such a huge urge to quickly eat,
Yes, many tasty meals of fresh, fish-meat.
Copyright © Carol B Tyre
Snowflakes fell, large and wet,
On that early morning in December
Our country home was soon enfolded
In winter's cold, white mantle
The noonday sun parted the somber clouds
With rays smiling and bright
It seemed to be saying...
"That's enough snow...for now"
Mother walked along the silent path
To where the mail was waiting
She paused for a moment and smiled
The untouched landscape, glittering white before her
Awoke the child within her heart
She began to play
Soon the beginnings of a snowman
Rested at her feet
My father watched the scene unfold
Through the bedroom window
His eyes glittered as brightly as the snow
A smile creased his face
And a chuckle escaped his lips
This picture is etched forever
In the corners of my heart
Forever I will see her there playing in the snow
Forever I will see him broadly smiling at her delight
Forever I will see them both so completely full of joy
So full of life
So full of love.
Copyright © Steven Mossburg
Gone are the fields of winter white
soon to be replaced by hues of greens and yellows,
in the interim, fields of barren brown and dirty gold
turned, to breathe warm air from departed winter chill
Plumes of black and gray from mans machine
kneading the back of Mother Earths desire,
before impregnating her with the many seeds
that will produce offspring to quench mans many needs
oh, how lonesome she looks, so alone
holding yet to some remnants of children past,
left only to cradle her dead, left by man
yearning to suckle new life, as only a Mother can
Above, from the heavens, Father prepares
to germinate those so many seeds,
with life sustaining necessities only he is allowed
sunlight and life giving rain, loosened from the clouds
within days Mother is impregnated
she can feel the multitudes of organic life,
moving within her womb, yearning,growing, needing
the escape, to be warmed and nourished by the Sun
Minutes turn to hours, hours to days
suddenly weeks pass,and yet another life,
giving rain, descends from guilded clouds
arms and fingers, of her children, open, sustained
nearing the end of a warm and wonderful summer
it is time for Fathers other children,
to reap what he has sewn
time for Mother Earth to let her children go
My, how they have grown, tall,lush and full
of the fruit they were meant to bear,
to provide nourishment for the masses of seeds
grown to maturity, in need from the father
Again, the gray black plumes of mans machine
come to life, they move through her fields,
her children, like a predator among prey
until, she is left again, with remnants of children past
Soon she will be blanketed again in winter white
gone will be the warm breath of life,
her children taken from her, she is again barren
only to be betrothed to a promise of new life.
I wrote this on a day trip to Illinois from Iowa across wide open farm land.
Copyright © Richard Pickett
Snow falls softly late one night
In the darkness it does bask
I dread the job tomorrow
Shoveling will be my task
Beauty is in the eyes of the viewer
I see nothing but giant flakes of work
The trees all have snow on this first shower
Dreading the day of a job using torque
The pathways are snowed over
All with a reflective white
I want to get to bed soon
For I know tomorrow’s plight
I’m mesmerized by the beautiful scene
Not a thing is without some wondrous snow
Even though I sure do dread the next day
I will put on a great, wonderful show
This time of year affects me
Seems to rub off some great cheer
I will find a way to smile
Though there’s snow up to my rear
Form Quatrain-1st, 3rd, 5th stanzas have 7 syllables, 2nd, 4th stanzas have 10 syllables
Copyright © Russell Sivey
My heart is the same full of love
My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
The hair of gray and wrinkles reign
I set the table full of food
For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
When changes prepare for winter
I'm not sure I'll know winter now
For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
Where beauty glows bright from the depths
Producing leaves of many hues
Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
I think that when winter comes cold
Plants freeze if left out in weather
They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
There's time to prepare room somehow
I still watch the birds from window
They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
Soon most will be gone for winter
Winter soon will approach with cold
Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
There are few thoughts of approaching winter
But when winter comes my way
The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
On another day I'll be called by trumpet away
Copyright © Sara Kendrick
My autumn wine; white winter rose
Please tell me how your garden grows?
I’ve lost my touch, I feared as much
You are fragile and it shows
Can I still call upon you?
With no words ever spoken to you?
And would you come to me?
Could you hear me in a dream?
Would you “sense” me if I came close,
But not in sight of you eyes?
Would you tempt me if giving up hope
Could cleanse me of all the lies?
I survive through a disguise
Designed to hide my immortal light
You will never see it
For I am a chameleon
Crawling through the ancient garden
The (other) not known as Eden
For it has no name to keep it safe
Until light shines on this darkened place
“April showers bring May flowers”
And so your flower has not yet soured
You still have the power to reverse your desires
My white winter rose, will you grow any higher?
Prosper or wither
The choice is now yours
Bound or severed
I’ve done all I could
Copyright © Jackie Bosworth
She is shadowed by fuzzy cobwebs of a morning without coffee,
while dust motes mingle with the mold of time.
Gazing out to the yard, through dingy glass, and fog,
into a dismal January, she hopes to catch a glimpse of the paper boy.
He travels through rain, sleet or snow, how could he understand,
(this teen-aged Paul Revere), that in this decrepit old house,
she is longing for a sign of youth? It has been a weary night, watching an old woman hang on by threads of life, that had worn thin years ago.
Watching and waiting, while cold winds blew and snow was falling,
and death was hoping to make a house call.
Any diversion, life being lived,... one brief eclipse of life in motion would be a relief.
To observe him toss the news into the sky like a Frisbee... not a care in the world
How would that feel...has she ever known? Has anyone ever been so young?
She thinks she may go mad with death and dying, with weariness, with waiting.
She suddenly shivers from a dreaded draft of frigid air, slithering in,
like a sneaky, uninvited ghost, slinking in around the rim.
nor'easter winds roll top shoe box...
splinter the silence.. -- debutante' caught in amber
a cataract view frozen sepia
Grabbing a handful of a thread-bare doily, she polishes the cold glass,
rubbing vigorously in circles against the grime,
making figure eights, in spite of frozen, stiff, fingers.
Satisfied, that she has a decent view of the blanketed yard,
and can see clearly where the muddy, gravel driveway,
bends gradually, curving to mate with the snow banked road,
at last, she spies the old Jeep coming, and watches with automated eyes,
yet, with some expectation, and strange excitement.
Then, as she might have guessed,
the teenager drives hurriedly by, barely slowing down, tossing the news,
and leaving her gaze and her thoughts, splattered by dark murky water,
while the slinging gravel that has been pitched into the sky, by his screeching tires,
falls like the pieces of the old woman's lonely life upon the pristine snow.
For Deb's Contest: "Mix It Up"
Copyright © Carrie Richards
Snow sprinkles the ground
as delicate as sugar
crystallizing the exterior with a romantic heritage
only found in the heart of a child's imagination.
Like happiness it can melt in your hands,
and like happiness it can grow bitter like the ice you slip on
Forming miraculously to the curves of the earth
hugging till the land soaks in it's providence
white like the pages I battle with
Falling so passionately you'd think it was falling in love with the ground
And when it lands,
A blanket of perfection
glistening the season to a crisp
gently the sun arises
"there's no where to go today,
I'm just going to sit and enjoy the magic."
Copyright © Madison Caldwell
Winter was given us that we may stay close to our hearts
and listen with more than our ears, as the bells of our life ring
Neither distance nor strife can ever keep our souls apart.
Our names are carried on the wild winds that winters bring
Remember and remember, for the winter dove still sings..
For all those who can't be with loved ones
for the holidays ahead
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick
A man’s chilled hands
In the depths of darkness...
Candle is shining
She approaches him, warming him up inside by holding him close to her. She tells him, “My love for you is stronger than the winter; no frigid air will hold you down and make you weak.” He smiled at her and simply replied, “I know our love is stronger than the freezing days of winter, we can exist in a higher plane and still be warm throughout. We just need to be in close proximity to physically be warm together.” With this she held his hands and he warmed up to be at her level of fire burning inside her.
She warmed his hands
Sure melted all the ice off...
Entrant into Debbie Guzzi's "Mix It Up" contest
Copyright © Russell Sivey
First of all I am going to tell you a story about the four seasons,
winter summer spring and fall,
Its a story not to forget at all and it is easy to remember that
Fall is a season that likes it cool, the nice wind blowing as all the leaves make sounds as they hit the ground,
And Winter it's a season of snow with the frosty nicknames that everyone knows.
And Summer is the hotest season of all,bringing up the heat so much you wish it was still fall.
Now spring is the prettyest season I have seen, where everything is blooming and growing green.Its a season where all the birds start singing cause of the joy they have had with winter,summer, spring, and fall....
Copyright © Jane Kostman
Shadows still, as Fall laments
Winter claims its prize
It happens slow, in increments
Death is in Fall's eyes
The things of nature begin to age
It happens every year
It's time for life to turn the page
And slowly disappear
Winter demands a final reward
Seeking to steal Fall's breath
Death will come, it's never ignored
This is the way of death
Memories last as long as they can
Of the things that used to be
Winter is Death and Fall is Man
And it comes for you and me
Winter takes the things we've done
And leaves behind the crumbs
No place to hide, no where to run
For Winter always comes
Copyright © Larry Belt
Warm clothing in mystifying layers
Portrait painted by mist and light
Naked branches catch the sun
Ice crunches underfoot
Noisy crows protest
Breath ghostly white
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick
I do not know?
Wait til winter comes
I’ll be bundled in velvet again
And softer than you’ve ever seen me
If my eyes are watering
The wind will wipe it away
And if I shiver uncontrollably
A cozy blanket of frost
Will surely wrap me in its warmth
You never held me like the wind does
You never even tried
Copyright © Ashley Daly
~FALLING, without winter wings~
My mind sometimes goes there, somewhere, nowhere,
amongst the shooting shining stars, floating like in a womb, yet not afraid,
free falling flakes, weightless – wondering why, where
from the highest branch I lost my grip gasping, grasping
and tumbling hopelessly DOWN AND DOWN DEEP… into the unknown
DOWN AND DOWN DEEP, I allowed myself to fall like a raindrop,
landing a little like winter, holding my breath, above the mountaintop,
a tremble brought about by the breeze, losing myself completely,
Wandering in welters of wasted words, into the fire of all my torrid tears,
I slip into despair into the cold, a chilling fall, after LETTING GO…
LETTING GO was the hard part, the horrid heartbreak, it always will be.
We had climbed so high, so high we had to come down
and as we stumbled we slipped we slid, slowly away from one another
because we had lost ourselves, our own identities.
My journey now must be to like -- LOVE MYSELF AGAIN.
LOVE MYSELF AGAIN, a never-ending task.
Holding on to what was and always will be a falling star.
Wishing, the wind would lift us up and put us back were we belong.
Sinking, dipping, dropping, and drowning with the sea,
A path I seek when I find myself losing grip of reality.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
I am naked now, my limbs are bare
A chill blows through me during the night air
No one notices me, children do not climb
I stand still hoping not to lose a branch of mine
No green, no orange, no red I am just grey
This season I do not like because of being this way
Soon the sun will begin to show
My little buds of color start to glow
Encircled by luscious green grass I will be
Seasons are my life, this next one I like.
©Holly P. Moore
Copyright © HOLLY MOORE
When winter comes there's wind, rain, bitter cold
There's white everywhere from frost, ice, and snow
Bare tree limbs are tossed by strong winds that blowww
Close to the hearth tales of yore oft are told
'Twas not so in the spring when all is fresh_ new
When love is on the wing; trees' young leaves green
All is simple at those times of sixteen
So much so now that life is in review
Then summer came crops were ripe for harvest
Young limas were gathered by the bushel
The corn's tassels were now filled with full ears
Then ends that part of life a busy quest
Fall's panty filled now; plans made for bethel
Winter by the fire remembering years
First attempt at Italian Sonnet
Favored by Emily Dickinson
Contest:A Sonnet In The Wind
Written: September 13-14, 2013
Copyright © Sara Kendrick
And Then It Was Winter
Time has a way of moving
So quickly that you’re caught unaware
The future seems far in the future
Then all at once it’s right there
It seems like only yesterday
I was among the young
Just married with a young child
Our lives had just begun
Yet now it seems eons ago
The years just came and went
I glimpse of how it used to be
How my hopes and dreams were spent
But here it is – it’s winter
The winter of my life
Somehow it got here way too fast
My memories are rife
I remember seeing old folks
Thinking that was years away
I didn’t have to think of it
That is until today
So here it is – my winter
And I can see the change
I’m older and I’m slower
And the young now seem so strange
I find taking a shower
Is a target for the day
A nap is not a treat I take
It’s my mandatory way
I advance into this season
Unprepared for aches and pains
The loss of strength and memory
A walker and some canes
Regrets? Sure there are things I’ve done
And things I didn’t do
But I’ve lived a happy lifetime
Regrets? There are so few
If you’re not yet in your winter
Please do take some advice
It’ll be here quicker than you think
Time does not suffice
Whatever you’d like to accomplish
In your life time – do it now
Don’t put it off till later
For laters pass somehow
And you haven’t got a promice
That you’ll live to see all seasons
Life sometimes is fleeting
Comes and goes without the reasons
Live for today – say all the things
You want loved ones now to hear
Tell them to live their life in full
For their winter may be near
My spring was fun and full of life
My summer days were thinner
My fall was fat and happy
And then it was my winter
Copyright © mike dailey
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
Copyright © kj force
We are all waithing for Spring
Spring is fresh after a long winter
Winter are so long and cold
We hunger after the sun and heating days
Come Spring, my dear, we need you now
Winter dormancy is over now
Dress the world in Spring flowers
Sorrows and worries are easier to bear
when the the day is sunny and good
It is as if our life begins anew
Buds arising out in all their delight
Come May you lovely mild, with heating
breeze and sunny days
It feels so good to take off the winter coat
Enjoy Spring with pleasure.
* 17. May is Norway`s national day. - Hurray for 17.May!
17. May 2012
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen
A glass of wine
This is ridiculous it has no name engulfed by sadness, two bottles of wine and cigarettes
and I’m drowning. Tomorrow no more, but I know when the sun falls so will I, succumbed
to a need to fly away to otherness. The pain in my chest is eating away, the emptiness of
my life feels like intolerable burden. I have created a world that is so small it chokes me.
The road to recovery, to palm trees and gentle sea is long. We used to laugh, my lover and
I, life was so funny; now all I can see is waste land with no oasis, there is nothing to lift
the spirit and the age old question asked by many before me:” what is it all for other to
bringing ones gene further into the future, I have not been able to do even that simple
task. The night is so long endlessly I flick from channel to channel to find something that
can bring the laughter back, but tiredness overwhelms me, l want another glass of wine,
the last glass that brings sleep. It doesn’t work anymore the more I drink the more sober
I get, Intolerable is the angst. Around and around I jumped on a carrousel and its engineer
has gone, whirling colours cacophony of screams, the undead will not be silent. Look into
the kaleidoscope of life and see a myriad of stars, bright and shiny but they are all a fading
illusions. But a voice whispers in my ear tomorrow you will get a new day, a sheet of blank
paper and crayon, so you can make clowns faces and laugh again.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen
Touching any metal un-gloved,
Turns skin to tin, fingers on fire,
Breathing inside what’s above,
Kindles lungs to a stinging pyre.
Exhaled steam is white as a dove.
Some find refuge wearing eider attire,
But hours exposure ends the tropical cove.
After a while the icy novelty tires,
As keeping calm means the need to move.
Snowmen dread mercury higher,
For melting’s their fateful groove.
Winter’s funeral march has its criers,
But in shivering’s end there is no lost love.
Copyright © Chaim Wilson
I do not know?
It's Christmas! Christmas!
That time of year
When people are filled...
With holiday cheer?
Yeah right. . .
I really do wish it were true
But people are people
Through and through
It's not about happiness anymore
Or in respect to what matters.
In reality it concerns what you get
And the food that is piled on the platters.
What has happened to the world of today?
Where is the 'loving and giving...'?
Now it is all just me, me, me.
Is this a nightmare? Or are we actually living.
Yep we might have a lot of things
Hang on! Let's add some more
It isn't the family that I'm expecting
But the postman knocking at the door.
When the topic turns to Christmas cheer
Lets go stuff our faces...
Break out all that lovely beer!
Chuck away those graces!
But... Suddenly the month is over
There go all the gifts you gave
Your debt payments crawl closer and closer
And you become a material slave.
Copyright © Annie De Lys