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Narrative Christmas Poems | Narrative Poems About Christmas

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Details | Narrative | |

Lottery Winner helps Homeless

 
 As I walked into the banquet hall of the 
 Goodman’s Inn, the first thing that stood
 out to me were the eyes of the people. I
 felt as though I could actually see hope. Eyes 
 seemed to sparkle and everyone in the hall
 sat talking to the others sitting around them
 as they waited for the main course of the evening. 
 To understand this report we need to go back just 
 over a year ago when Lindsey Long won the 50 
 million dollar lottery. Apparently the multimillionaire 
 booked the Goodman’s Inn for December 24th through 
 to January 2nd of this year solely to house the homeless 
 over the Christmas holidays. Miss Long walked through 
 the streets herself over the last week inviting the 
 unfortunate homeless to come to the motel for these      
 festivities. Lindsey Long has not only provided the rooms 
 for this week, she also has clothed them with new 
 wardrobes and warm winter clothing and accessories.
 Now as the people sat around the table they were
 told Miss Long had an announcement. We all waited 
 to hear what this amazing lady had to say
 and excitement filled the room. When this 
 beautiful young woman began to talk there
 wasn’t one dry eye in the building. She told them 
 how she was not going to just send them back
 on the street next week but how she had
 built a new centre that would have sleeping
 facilities and showers to accommodate all
 of them. This new facility will be serving 
 three meals a day which will be prepared solely 
 from themselves on a voluntary bases. 
 The feeling in the Inn that night was pure joy
 and as the people realized the impact of this
 wonderful news, they all broke out singing
 It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. This is 
 Rhonda Reeds reporting for 
 The Good Newspaper.
 Merry Christmas everyone.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.12.2014
Sponsor Mystic Rose
The Good Newspaper 
1st


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A Mouse Family's Christmas

It's Christmas Eve and through the house 
there creeps a curious little mouse.
He climbs into the big arm chair 
and finds the cookies waiting there .
He only takes the smallest bite.
Santa will find his treat tonight.

He gazes with wonder at the tree
and the bright wrapped gifts left there to be
a mystery tale to tell his spouse,
when he gets home, this curious mouse.
What an adventure it has been,
he has drunk of some spilled gin
that had been left upon the table.
His wife will think it is a fable
he has concocted to amuse  her.
She is homebound, we must excuse her.

He once came home all out of breath
to say he had been scared to death
by a huge rat with fluffy tail.
She noticed he was very pale.
"While I was nibbling off some cheese
to bring to you, my love, to please,
he almost had me in his paws.
I'm sure he wasn't Santa Claus".
But this night is so very quiet.
He spies some fruitcake, has to try it.
It reminds him of that sip of gin
and wonders if his head will spin.
He hears a noise, runs for his life,
carrying fruitcake for his wife.

Christmas morning, spread before their eyes
for the baby mice, a grand surprise.
Their mama had fixed a Christmas feast
from food their dad had saved from beast.
A bit of butter, a glob of jam
and a fairly good-sized piece of ham.
Bread crumbs saved from other forays.
They had enough to eat for days.
Those little mice would never waste it.
If they didn't like it, they'd still taste it.
This food their mama set before them,
their dad risked his life to get it for them.

11/22/14


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Susie The Tiny Angel

She was the smallest of all the angels
although all the other angels were at 
least five feet tall, 
Susie the angel was no larger than a Barbie doll.

She was by far the cutest of all the Angels
but little Susie was a little sad this Christmas Season.

She had wings that's for sure, so she could reach
the top of Christmas trees but the toppers
were always too heavy which made Susie sad.

She spoke to the other Angels about it
of course they all offered to help her.
Susie explained she was thankful
but she really wanted to do it on her own.

That's when it happened Susie 
right then and there became the first
Angel to shed a tear.

She had turned so no one saw, 
but Susie felt badly.

The next day while alone Susie
thought of her troubles and it happened
again, except this time it was many tears.

"Wait" Susie thought "my tears sparkle".
So she thought more about her sadness.
More and more tears flowed.
That is when Susie realized this was all meant to be.

The next morning Susie visited her favorite homes
as she flew over the trees and spread her tears.

From that day on their were changes.
All Christmas trees would sparkle with 
the glitter of Susie's magic.

Susie wasn't sad at all she wasn't even crying.
She had been picked to be the Christmas Angel.
The one that made all trees sparkle.

Now Susie no longer worried about placing toppers.

To honor Susie changes were made to Christmas trees.
They were topped with a star that resembled her tears
or a small Angel just like Suzie, one that made
the whole tree glitter.

02~12~2014
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Contest Name: Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale 


 


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A Most Irish Fairy Tale - Merry Christmas to All

It is not just Santa Claus who we meet in cold December— 
There is “Carolina,” and she’s the beauty of a winter picture perfect 
With luscious long coal black curly hair far down on her back 
As a true fairy princess, Carolina is quite beautiful with beaming

Blue eyes and that certain incandescent glow for all to see and 
Dressed in a sparkling white robe made of polar bear skins 
With a glossy coat sprinkled with pearls and diamonds . . . .

Out of the woods she comes so quiet in the night’s fresh snow 
With a glimpse of two deer and a fox on hunt walking carefully 
Carolina hopes the deer will walk around with angelic guard 
The secret is that beautiful Carolina talks the animals’ languages 
The birds they play in all its splendor fine without sorrows 
They fly while Carolina keeps watch carefully on the horizon 

Falling snow now dazzling Christmas in a ball circle most brilliant 
While there is a frozen frosted sprinkling silver in the mist shining sun
Oh so!! Wonderful to behold as the Spirit of Christmas comes alive . . . .

The Reindeer come alive and begin dancing joyfully together and 
Create such a melodic sound almost like bells ringing aloud
And the all the Reindeer are here in their resplendent glory:
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen,
And Rudolph, with his red nose so beautiful and oh so bright—
And the sounds the Reindeer make stay in the minds of the little
Children just like sweetly wishing little voices wonderful in dreams
With those singing, tunes a dancing light appears so wondrous 
While planes from all over the world begin landing with cargo
And one each day with loads of letters from good little children

And Santa Claus begins calling the elfin troops into action while
The Leprechauns do all the heavy work as they are much tougher
But the old fighting Irish in them showing their softer side all the 
While with a drop of the old fiery dew to keep them warm smiling 
Like the very wee little Devil in them - mischievous and all . . . . 

They do all the heavy work for the elves as they have more of a spring
In their step while almost bouncing on the tip of the their toes like 
Little jumping springs so full of boundless wonder and energy and  
Then day after day the letters keep arriving and landing at the North Pole 
And they begin working like mad and very busily in the North Pole factory

While Santa checks the letters of all boys and girls through a secret window 
And when he shakes it he sees through the mist in a glass bubble of the
Christmas treats while hurriedly calling together all of his Reindeer . . . .
The sound of hooves on the snow saddles up the sleigh he is very slim 
To start off while all his helpers are loading up and he flicks the reins 

And the bells start ringing and - in a flash of magic dust in spirit sings of 
The ground waving he bade Mrs. Claus a very fond and loving farewell
And off he goes in a flash of light Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! echoing in the distance 

Each chimney sliding down he eats the food throwing some to the Reindeer 
Treats left after the night's over he feels so fat eating so much he heads back 
Home to the North Pole while smiling so content at the children’s happiness 
And ringing in his ears filled with golden smiles and wishing everyone a very 
Merry Christmas he falls asleep after Mrs. Claus makes him a hot chocolate
Really tired but easing his weary bones year after year he loves his job very
Much so and all of the sheer delight that his efforts and those of Mrs. Clau
And his elfin helpers and the joy and fun of the Reindeer bring to all children
On this Earth!! 
                     Merry Christmas to All!!



Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman – A Collaborated Poem, 

Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 9, 2014) (Free Verse)


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Christmas Delivery

As December winds swirled the snow in drifts outside
   Lisa covered Mama, held her hand as she cried
“It’s my last Christmas, I know it in my heart, dear
   Send my prayers to God; deliver them with my tears”

“Hush, Mama, you can’t die; Tommy needs you so
   And his tour of duty still has six months to go”
Mama fell asleep, Lisa bowed her head in prayer
   Adding her own tears, she asked that Tommy be there

“Please let my brother see Mama just one more time
   When her eyes open, may it be her son she finds”
Tears fell on the floor as Lisa kept vigil
   Beside her cancer-stricken mother so fragile

Awakening to see Tommy standing nearby
   In uniform he appeared; Lisa exhaled a sigh
“God sent you home, I knew He would, our pleas were heard”
   Tommy stroked his sister’s hair, saying not one word

‘Twas then Lisa saw Mama standing behind him
   Aglow in heaven’s light were her mother and twin
“How blessed we’ll be – together on this Christmas Day!”
   Lisa exclaimed, just before they faded away

Confused, she saw her ashen mom so still in bed
   ‘Neath the door a telegram, Tommy too was dead
And though there were tears in Lisa’s blue eyes so bright
   Her loved ones would spend Christmas together in God’s sight

A smile came as candles flaming in the window grew
Lisa realized one Christmas she’d be with them too



*Rhyming narrative for Paula Swanson’s “Tear” contest


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The Sugar Cube House

Love is a season.
And holidays mark the seasons, and years like signs in the road,
reflecting the bumps in our journey, but showing us a way back home.

Sixteen, in pajamas, watching the rain pelt down,
it was long past midnight, Christmas eve.
Twinkling lights on one house across the road, stared back at me.
It was if they were trying to fill our dark house with color.
The block was filled with a hundred lighted windows.
But the blackness of our own, somehow, seemed more appropriate.  

There was no Christmas tree in our house that year.
I suppose Dad felt it was too soon, or perhaps just the effort to get through each day
had taken all the strength he had.
We had stayed up and watched a Christmas program together.
Perry Como, I think it was, for I think I remember he sang "Ava Maria", and Dad got teary eyed.
My brother had come home from the Air Force earlier that week,
trying to help bring us a bit of cheer,....at least, for awhile,
but he had been called back to duty, and I missed him terribly.

The house was silent after Dad had gone to bed.
I wasn't sleepy,....and it was lonely looking out at the cold night
It seemed the whole world was sleeping, waiting for Christmas.
                                 
As I finally headed for bed, I noticed a light had been left on in the front coat closet.
I opened the door, and looking up, to pull the chain, I noticed the box.
The shoe box that had kept the sugar cube house, safe, dry, and out of harm's way.

A sugar cube house that Mom and I had made together when I was 8 years old. 
Little sugar cubes stacked into walls, and a roof, glued together with red frosting.
We had copied one out of her Good Housekeeping magazine that year,
and had surrounded it with little trees, and a oval mirror pond, and items we had found at the 5 and 10 cent store.  She had carefully packed it all away last year.
After her last Christmas.

Late into the night, I sat in the dimness of the house, laying out the sugary scene on the fireplace mantel....just as Mom would have done.

When the freckled morning moved into day...I woke on the sofa...Dad sitting next to me.  He had covered me with a warm blanket, and had fallen asleep beside me.

After breakfast....he disappeared outside, and soon came in carrying a sorry looking branch from our old evergreen tree. 

We decorated that bedraggled branch...it wasn't the most beautiful tree we had ever had, but it brought Christmas back to my family.
_______________________________________________________________

For Deb's Contest: A Christmas Tale
(Inspired by "The Match Girl" By H.C. Anderson


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The Christmas Haunting

The old man had always had an unnatural fondness 
for the animal but could never seem to bond with human easily, 
with the exception of a special, dear grandmother. His mind 
wandered back to his childhood, the Christmas eve of 1958 about 
a special chore that he was required to do of his parents…….

“Being”
To be or not to be
One two three,
Five more to go…
The eight year old counted the puppies his female Border collie 
had given birth to only three days earlier. The words of his parents 
echoed in his ears, “We can’t have so many dogs around the house, 
we can’t feed them all. You will have to dispose of them, 
she is your dog, your responsibility.”  The lad wiped the tears from 
his eyes, as he prepared reluctantly to smash another head against
a large stone which he had selected. “Smash!” not a whimper. 
He had become proficient at this chore.

 “Being”
To be or not to be
One two three four, 
four more to go. 
The remaining puppies snuggled together for warmth in the cold
December breeze. I can’t do this his conscience screamed as his 
young mind reasoned, “You have to, mom said, and dad will be home 
in the evening. You will get a licking such as you have never gotten before.”  “Smash!” not a whimper. The blood trickled down his finger tips.

“Being” 
To be or not to be, 
One, two, three, four, five, 
Three more to go, He looked at the huge stone, “The killing stone” he 
thought as he prepared to finish all three of the remaining puppies 
in one swift moment if possible. “Smash! Smash! Smash!” It was over 
he gave a sigh of relief as he gathered the tiny, still bodies into a small 
shoe box that was to be the coffin of burial. He quickly buried the box 
with the puppies’ corpses inside. He knew this was one chore on Christmas 
eve day that would haunt him for many days perhaps years to come.

In Honor of Carol Brown
And Contest


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LUNCH BOX

LUNCH BOX

The sandwich was probably only two days old
School had let out for Christmas vacation on the 23rd
And now    on Christmas Eve    Sam had found it -        
     lunchbox and all -  in an alley behind Clarke’s Super
The kid had taken a couple of bites of the apple – now
     gone brown- but left the roast beef sandwich whole
“Too damn much mayo!” Sam frowned
“But boy am I hungry!”

Licorice    the cat – so named by the neighborhood kids –
     was hungry too    and let Sam know it with his most
     plaintiff cry
Sam was street-wise    an old cardboard box dweller who
     had tenanted many boxes   many alleys    in his time
Yet    this was no “Hello puss    whose puss are you?”
     animal summons for attention
The yowl had a bone-rattle desperation Sam hadn’t heard
     before

Licorice blended with the night
But stood out even against the gloom
She was pressed against an empty oil barrel    back arched
     on the tips of her paws    so almost skeletal
Sam couldn’t help but sigh
It was Christmas Eve    and despite the location – a forlorn
     back alley – a string of lights (from somewhere) were
     blinking
On
Off
On
Off
On
Off
On
The red-green-gold shown against Licorice’s satin fur
Charmed the (already charmed) night
Charmed Sam the Box Man
“Well I’ll be damned!” he gulped
Then threw half the sandwich to the starving kitty
“Merry Christmas old beggar.” Sam smiled

  



                      
 
 


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A Christmas Conversation

Daddy, were you alive when Jesus was born?

No honey, he was born a long time ago, over 2000 years ago.

Where was he born Daddy?

In Bethlehem, a small town in the desert in a manger,

Whats a manger Daddy?

It's a place where they kept animals to feed them.

You see when Jesus was born the Inn was full, so 
they had to get Mary to a warm place to give birth to Jesus.
that was the only place they could go.

Daddy who is Jesus' Daddy?

God is his Father honey?

But who is Joseph?

The Chosen Father, who God chose to raise him, Mary's Husband

I don't understand Daddy!

God wanted a son, he could not have a son without Mary and Joseph's
help. God asked them both if they would help him, without even thinking
they said yes. God gave to them a great gift, God gave them Jesus.

At that moment God gave us all a great gift, He gave us the Son of Man.

The Son of Man Daddy?

Yes honey, you see God is not Man, not one you can touch, Jesus
was, he healed people who were sick, He showed people how to love God 
and how God loves them. There is one more important thing
I want to tell you honey.

What's that Daddy? Jesus did a coupla more things I think are 
important, there are many of course but two I like.

Go on Daddy!

Jesus taught us how to love without conditions, like the way I love you 
and you love me and your Mom and Brother. But how to love everybody
like that.  The most important thing is, is that he died because we humans
broke God's laws, which means we sinned. He died so God would
forgive us.


Wow Jesus really did love us didn't he Daddy...?

Yes he did baby, and the really good thing is he still does and always will.

Come on it's time for bed!

Not until I say my prayers Daddy!

How bout we Pray together tonight?

I'd like that Daddy!

So would I baby, so would I .

Jump up on my back and I'll give you piggy back ride!

I love you Daddy!

I love you too baby, I love you too.........





My Christmas wish is you all have Conversations like this with your 
kids. Trust me they bring tears of joy!

May God Bless you all this Christmas Season as he has Blessed me.

    From Mary, Josh, Shay and myself  MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR


                             With Love.....Taz


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Christmas Memories

We were poor, but my brother and I didn’t know it.
Before Christmas my dad would take us to find just the right scraggly 
fir tree..a wonderful afternoon tramping around in the woods.

Old and worn decorations..we were delighted to open the crate
and unpack them; it was like seeing old and beloved friends again.
The red velvet car was my favorite..  his a bedraggled Santa sled.

We always had a present or two..but the most exciting gifts were
in our stockings. The stockings were my dad’s work socks..washed
and pressed for the occasion. They hung with pride, beautiful to us.

One year I got a fishing pole in my stocking. It was stuck through
a hole in the heel. I thought that Santa was the cleverest
of men. Imagine..using that hole to my advantage!

My dad’s boss would give us the same thing year after year.
A crate of oranges, something we never had at any other time.
I can still see the juice on my hands as we devoured that special gift.

I wouldn’t trade those Christmas memories. The greatest gift was feeling
warm, and safe…and loved.


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A Spark of Hope

A little girl lost her home this year, for her, Christmas wouldn't be there.
Her family was angry from all the troubles, they simply couldn't repair.
Don’t bother us about presents her parents said, they were depressed by their fate.
With bitterness they said, you’d be lucky to have dinner tonight, or even a plate.
Life was harsh, nowhere to go, anger and fear had put their souls, in a terrible place.
The little girl had found no hope or joy, lurking near their old car, of late.
The car was their home, gas money was scarce, and with few places they could park.
Yes, their troubles had slowly extinguished, that precious hopeful spark.
Without that spark, they’d never find their way, from this terrible place of cold and dark.
And life’s darkness grew deeper nightly, as hope vanished under a reality so stark.
Even the very fiber of her family, seemed to be shattering slowly, slowly, apart.
The child felt alone here in this dark car, as sadness tried to engulf her little girls heart.
The future seemed filled with hopelessness, as shame and dread, were leaving their mark.
Embarrassment to be seen and turned away, made it hard for them to reach out, to restart.
But life goes on, and we can’t fear to rebuild, or the future will be hard to impart.
The girl suddenly declared there’s more to life, and she wouldn't let it conquer her heart.
She decided triumphs will come, and all will get better, if she held to that hopeful spark.
Seeing the desolation and anger here, she couldn't stay around, she had to get away…
So she climbed out of the car, and she walked into town, not so very far to stray.
She went and looked at the store windows, where Christmas was being displayed.
The music and people filled her heart, lifting her spirits, deep inside, that day.
She noticed a store, way down at the end of the row, on the next block, where it lay.
No one was there, it seemed lonely, and the darkness was again, spreading it’s decay.
She ran there in time to see an old man closing up, with sadness on his face betrayed.
What use were his goods, if no one would shop, or come down along his way?
The super store down the block, was daily making him lose more and more in the fray.
He could no longer afford to hire people, and the season had very little time, to stay.
As they talked the girl saw that she couldn't let the darkness take another, so she prayed.
Then she told the old man, if he’d open the shop, she’d bring customers down his way.
She added, she’d find reasonable workers, if her family could live upstairs, she portrayed.
First bring the customers, he said, and the rest will be yours little friend, he conveyed.
She had him put his best toys, as a contest prize, and to add lots of lights on the display.
He set a contest, “Winners-the best collectors for families in need” on Christmas Eve.
He put out a bright contest sign, but still nobody came to his end of the block, to survey.
So she had him call the Salvation Army, for a kettle, Bell ringer, and Carolers, who came 
Lickety split, their way.
Then she had him call a dear old friend, and farmer, to bring a tractor full of bails of hay.
Another volunteered his horse and sleigh, both, to see the city lights thru New Years Day.
This was a great idea, since the older drivers, could use the help, for their bills to pay.
The girl ran all over spreading the excitement, and to come see the prizes, his way.
The families suddenly started heading toward his door, and to those wondrous rides.
At that moment her parents came, and she explained what her hope, had improvised.
Her father talked a contractor into building a disabled family a home, to help advertise.
He could get a tax break; come to this store for supplies, and hire unemployed workers, he devised, so wise.
In the end, each night grew brighter, because of a girls hope, and heart-warming delight.
And the old man began smiling for the first time, in a long, long, time, starting that night.
All was saved, a home was found, and another built, as a sad little girl taught grownups to smile along the way… 
You might say, A Spark of Hope lit a candle, then a raging fire, which was burning bright by Christmas day.

The moral to my story is:
Never give up on Hope; it’s your best friend, as life brings its troubles your way…
Know that with time, a good heart, good will, and friendly ways… 
You can find God’s gifts again, if you don’t let the dark take you away…


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A Christmas Tale

As evenings dark began to close in
a little girl wipes her nose on her sleeve.
Listless and hungry she walks in the snow
a poor and lost soul, one cold New Year’s Eve.

Her dead mothers slippers were much to large,
they were flip flopping while crossing the street,
two wild carriages coming full speed
made her lose them, now she walks in bare feet.

She glances in windows as she walks by,
families eating and making good cheer,
her pains from hunger she tries to ignore,
she’s starving and freezing, poor little dear.

The north winds cold breeze keeps blowing her face
catches her breath as it blows back her hair.
She spots a dark alley where she can lay,
Tired and windblown she can no longer care.

She curls in a ball tucking frozen feet
carefully under her old blanket cloak,
she leans on the building, closing her eyes
now given up and her spirits are broke.

A shaggy old dog, nudges her gently
she hugs him and draws him close to her heart,
smiling she whispers, we’ll go together 
when Jesus finds us, we’ll never more part

Then both of their eyes close, she bathes in dreams,
sitting at a fire, with food on the hearth.
When she awakes, a lady stands smiling,
pats the old dog saying, good boy old Barth.



The Little Match Girl by H.C. Anderson
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
12.03.2014
Contest: A Christmas Tale
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi


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A Church Service to Remember

Maud, the meek poverty stricken seventy year old matriarch of the people spoke proudly as the relief shown on her face. “Two weeks ago I had tests run at Sparks Medical Center in Fort Smith they told me that my old body was almost totally eat up of cancer. I ask a brother at that time here in the church whom I respect and have faith in to pray. He simply said as he laid hands on me, them that believe shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. (Mark 16:18 KJV) Why that is all he said as he asks me to agree with him.” “I stand before you today, one day before Christmas, totally free of cancer. I was scheduled yesterday to begin receiving radiation, but when they did my blood tests again they could not find one trace of cancer. My doctor said he just could not explain the miracle that had apparently taken place. You apparently know a doctor who is far greater than I am.” Tears of gratitude flowed down Maud’s old, weathered cheeks as the whole church stood and rejoiced with their precious matriarch mother. This was a Christmas eve of rejoicing like non other, and there was not a dry eye in the whole church. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A true story from 1987 in Moreland Arkansas Free Full Gospel Church. This charitable hearted lady lived several years after this and died of simple old age at around 90 years of age. For Carolyn’s Contest: Your Christmas Miracle


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TEARS ON SANTA'S CHEEKS

TEARS ON SANTA'S CHEEKS Daddy's little girl is going. Daddy's little girl is slowly leaving... Silent night... it's what the angels are singing Outside there are ringing laughter, however-- on a hospital bed which was cold white as the snow lies the body of a little girl, dead. Her little soul just had to go. She just had to go ahead than the others. Her once sun kissed face when she smiles now the palest cream. Her once twinkling eyes now shut so tight. The glow of light and love she always bring was lost on Christmas night, as Santa stood in red and white holding a present on his hands staring at the child his eyes wet with falling tears for his little girl had died. ©O. E. Guillermo 12:02 am, November 27, 2014


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The Saddest Christmas I Remember

Love is a season
And holidays mark the seasons, like signs in the road
Reflecting the bumps in our journey, but showing us a way back home...

Sixteen, in pajamas, watching the rain pelt down
It was long past midnight, Christmas eve
Twinkling lights on one house across the road, stared back at me
It was if they were trying to fill our void with color
The block was filled with a hundred black windows
And the blackness somehow seemed more appropriate  
There was no Christmas tree in our house this year
I suppose Dad felt it was too soon, or perhaps just the effort to get through each day
                                                                            had taken all the strength he had...
We had stayed up and watched a Christmas program together...
It was Perry Como, I think....somehow I remember how he sang "Ava Maria"...

My brother had come home from the Air Force earlier that week
He had helped bring us a bit of cheer....at least for awhile...
but he had been called back to duty, and I missed him terribly...

The house was silent after Dad had gone to bed
I wasn't sleepy....and it was lonely looking out at the cold night
It seemed the whole world was sleeping, 
                                 getting ready for the sun to shine on Christmas morning...

I started to head for bed, but noticed a light had been left on in the front coat closet
I opened the door, and looking up, to pull the chain, I noticed the box...
   The little box that kept the sugar cube house
It was one that Mom and I had made together when I was 8 years old... 
         Little sugar cubes stacked into walls and a roof, glued together with red frosting.
We had copied one out of her Ladies' Home Journal....surrounding it with little trees, and 
people skating on a mirror for a pond, things we had found at the 5 and 10 cent store
Carefully packed away last year, on Mom's last Christmas....

Throughout the night, I sat in the dimness of the house, laying out the sugary scene on the 
fireplace mantel....as Mom would have done .

When the freckled morning moved into day...
I woke on the sofa...Dad sitting next to me.  He had covered me with a warm blanket.
He held me and we cried together.
After breakfast....he disappeared outside, and soon came in carrying a sorry looking branch 
from our old evergreen tree.
We decorated that bedraggled branch...it wasn't the most beautiful tree we had ever had
But it brought Christmas back to my family...


For Constance La France's contest "Your Saddest Christmas Ever"
Carrie Richards


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The "Journey Through Christmas"

In my hometown of Hillsboro
A humble, small suburb
There stood a church that was more humble still
In that cozy congregation
We'd teach and learn the Word
And try each day to do the Father's will

But our little congregation
Each year at Christmastime
Would execute a miraculous feat!
The whole town would come out in droves
To view what we'd present
A Christmas pageant right next to the street!

The first vignette was of a home
A modern family
Telling of that first Christmas long ago
The next scene showed the palaces
Of Herod on his throne
When his grim proclaimation he bestowed

Each onlooker could walk or drive
From scene to sacred scene
But either way, observers saw the worth
For every stop would reenact
The story of God's love
From Herod to the blessed Savior's birth

The community seemed hungry
To hear the wondrous news
Of the Messiah, born to die for us
And like them, we were richly blessed
To share with all who came
The spectacle-- a Journey Through Christmas!







*This is a true story that I've presented in poetry form for Carolyn Devonshire's "Christmas 
in Your Town" Contest


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The Christmas Kiss

I was sitting in the crowded train station with time to waste, waiting on the train to take me home on Christmas Eve.  A very pretty, young lady, carrying a full backpack headed for one of the only open seats across the aisle from me next to a rather dirty and disheveled older man.

As she removed her backpack to sit down he glared up at her; she smiled a beautiful bright smile and said to him, “Merry Christmas”.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas”, he barked up at her.

“Yeah?  Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy on the day that I celebrate Christmas.  And I hope the day is merry for you as well.”

“What is there to be merry about”, he moaned, “A bunch of hypocritical religious zealots pretending to be nice to one another while the world goes to hell in a hand basket.”

“Well, at least for that one day, most of us believe the hypocrisy, and even for just a few hours, we practice the morals that our religion tries to instill in us.  At least on that one day, for us religious zealots, there is a glimmer of hope that we can save the world from going to hell and, I, for one, believe that is reason to be merry.”

“Terrific!  And, what does that get me,” he whimpered.
	
“Well, what you get is this one time of year, when a twenty-two year old college girl is not afraid to sit next to you; smile at you; and, wish you a Merry Christmas.  And, if you just say, ‘Thank you’ and ‘Merry Christmas’ back to her, she just may give you the biggest and best kiss you have ever experienced.”

She stood back up and started to put her backpack back on as he simply stared up at her.  Once she was situated and ready to move on towards her train, she stopped; smiled at him again; and, said, “Merry Christmas.”

It seems I was not the only stranger that was witnessing this exchange.  All of those around me were perched on the edge of their seats waiting to see what might happen.  The old man cracked a little smile.  A glimmer came to his eyes, and he said, “Thank you.  And, Merry Christmas to you, too.”

The girl leaned down and planted a kiss right on his lips for what seemed like ten minutes.  Smiles lit up the faces of all the men, women and children watching this take place.  When the girl finally pulled back, the old man was frozen in place with a big ole smile on his face.  She adjusted her backpack and started heading towards the tracks.  All the men she passed on her way who witnessed this exchange anxiously yelled, “Merry Christmas” as she passed, hoping for a kiss as well.

I looked back at the old man who was still in a dream.  Suddenly he caught me looking at him and barked, “What are you staring at?”

I just shook my head back and forth and said, “Merry Christmas”.

“Yeah!  Well Merry Christmas to you, too” he shouted.


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Old Fashioned Christmas Parade

We gather on the streets
Lining up in the cold
Waiting just to see them
Remembering days of old

The harnesses made of leather
Their bells are colored gold
Horses pull their carriages
And prance into our souls

Here come the Christmas carolers 
But Santa steals the show
As the children gather candy
Look how their little eyes glow

Our hearts filled with Spirit
We enjoy each rendition
The Old Fashioned Christmas Parade
A Lawrence, Kansas tradition



Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend


*inspired by Carolyn's "Christmas in Your Town" contest.


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Christmas Is A-Coming



Christmas is a-coming With all it's joys and toys No matter our age We never lose that little child excitement Every Christmas morning, our hearts start pumping Anxious to know what the jolly old man Has left for us under the tree The smell of pine, the glitter of the tinsel The multitude of colourful twinkling lights Happiness reigns supreme I wonder if Santa heard me ask for my special gift? Will Mom, Dad and my sister like what I bought them? At no other time of the year are families so close If only we could bottle up the love and enthusiasm And let it out when we need it through the year That jolly old man is watching with a big grin on his face To see how much happiness he has bestowed on us And hopes it will last till next time he rides into town Ahh! Christmas, there's no other time like it Christmas is a-coming With all it's joys and toys Happy, happy, happy! Merry Christmas to all! © Jack Ellison 2014


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Teaching an Old Dog

All I remember is going into the garage to get the snow shovel.
 
I am not even sure how much of the driveway I managed to shovel.  Apparently, I was lying in the snow for several hours before one of the neighbors noticed me.

The next thing I remember is waking up from a deep sleep to the sounds of beeping machines with tubes and wires stuck into and on my body.

As I slowly regained consciousness and my eyes were able to focus, I was aware of a young, bald child looking down on me.

“Hi,” said the smiling, angelic face.  Given the child’s age and complete baldness, I could not tell whether they were a boy or a girl.  And, with the tube inserted in my throat and taped to my mouth, I was in no position to return their salutation.

I tried to remember who this child might be and why they were here with me.  I guess my eyes displayed my confusion as the child said, “I'm Elizabeth.  They let me walk around the hospital a little.  Sometimes I sneak out of the oncology wing and look for people who have no visitors.  I like to make sure someone is there when they wake up.  I know I always like to see someone when I wake up from my operations.”

She just stood above me smiling.  I then noticed she was holding my hand.

“Sometimes it is hard for family members or friends to come visit.  Some people just really don’t like hospitals.  And, I guess”, she said, “not everybody has someone that close to them.  So, I like to become their visitor for them.  I hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t mind.  Although it did make me embarrassed to realize that I fit in the latter category; I didn’t have anybody that close to me.

She just smiled at me and petted my hand as the medications worked their magic on me and I started to drift back off to sleep.  I heard a nurse come into the room and say, “There you are, Honey.  You need to get back to your room now and leave this nice man be.”

The next time I regained consciousness, I noticed a hand drawn picture of a house with a Christmas tree out front with a note that said, “I hope you get home before Christmas” and was signed by Elizabeth.

Each new day, I was welcomed by another drawing of Christmas scenes; smiling faces; reindeer; and, starry skies.  All containing a happy note and all signed, ”Love, Elizabeth”.

After ten days of recovery and following the insertion of two stents into my heart, I was well enough to return to my empty home.  On my way out of the hospital, I stopped by the Oncology Wing to say good-bye and thank you to Elizabeth.  When I asked the nurse at the floor station where I could find Elizabeth, she replied, “Oh I'm sorry, Elizabeth is no longer with us.”

I then said, “Well can you tell me her home address or phone number, I would really like to thank her for visiting me in my hospital room this past week.”

The look on the nurse’s face indicated that I misunderstood what she had meant.  Elizabeth was no longer with us.

Sadly, I started walking towards the exit.

Just before I got to the elevator, I noticed an open door with a man lying on his bed, with tubes in his nose and throat and nobody else in the room with him.  I went into his room and sat in the empty chair.

When he opened his eyes two hours later, I said, “Hi, I'm Joe.  I noticed there was nobody here when you were brought back from your operation and I know how nice it is to see a smiling face when you wake up, so I thought I would sit here with you for a while.  I hope you don’t mind.”

He squeezed my hand; gave a slight smile; and, slowly drifted off back to sleep.


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Santa, Snowman, and the Gingerbread Man

He stood still in the chilling winter breeze, with a carrot
for a nose, two sticks for hands, two buttons for eyes, and six tiny
buttons for a mouth. During the day, children liked playing around him,
skating and dancing as they danced, sung, and screamed; the smell
of happiness was in the air. The snowman was the only one who wasn't 
enjoying these playful moments, for he was only a pile of snow
that was put together, to look like a human. 
One night, two days before Christmas,
the nasty-looking gingerbread man crept into the children's playing field; he was carrying a torch."I will melt you, and make you part of the icy floor!" he whispered.  He was once a jolly man, who was cursed by a witch, because of stealing her gingerbread. All his friends and family abandoned him, for he looked strange. Since then, he hated anyone or anything that resembled happiness or smile. “Tomorrow the children will have a different look on their faces….” he thought to himself.   An evil smile formed on his face. 
As he stared to melt the snowman, Santa appeared out of nowhere, riding his flying reindeer that carried many gifts.
“What are you doing my friend?” he asked gingerbread man. “I have brought you a gift. It is a wishing coin!” The gingerbread man was so touched, that he wished that that the snowman was alive, so that he could know how it felt to be alive. He then tossed the coin into the air. The snowman then gradually started to move, and utter words. Surprisingly, the gingerbread man turned into a human once more. The witch’s curse was broken by love.
**************************************************************
The Christmas tree lighting was reflecting on a lake; children were sharing gifts, as they sang Carols; the elves were sprinkling magical stardust in the air – it was Christmas after all! It was beautiful to see a man, once a gingerbread man, dancing with the snowman! 


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The Fog Rolls in

The fog rolls in surrounding me,
My hand before me, I barely see.
A heaviness as moisture clings to the air,
Ghost like shadows from trees that are bare.

I walk forward I don’t want to look back,
I grab a new card from off of the stack.
I think of it like turning over a new leaf,
I take a deep breath and hope for relief.

I turn the corner there are lights shining bright.
Blue lights resonate and glow in the night.
A Christmas tree lit, entirely in blue,
Like a beacon in the fog it shines right through.


The Christmas tree lights shine much like my hope,
I try to break free with some slack in the rope.
They bring a smile and fill me with content,
As the fog thickens the lights don’t relent.

They seem to glow within the fog,
I lose my bearing as I trip on a log.
I feel like a ghost upon a canvas of white, 
It all disappears within the confines of night.

I hear a bell from a church on the hill,
Its haunting sound from what was still.
It seems to call to me to just forge on.
All of a sudden the ringing is gone.

I stand in darkness just me and the fog,
Something awakens, memories it jogs.
I think of my journey and all I’ve been through,
What has been done and what’s left to do.

It hasn’t been easy though it’s not bad.
I have fond memories of great times I’ve had.
Still something’s missing as I look for the door,
I know it can’t be like it was once before.

The winds picks up, adds a chill to the air.
It awakens my senses so I really don’t care.
I stand at the threshold to the future and past.
I will simply step outside, the shadows it casts.


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Tale: Mary Magdalene

Behold, one day was a woman who was found in possession of many men. Good men, enamored by some other concubines and some married. And in the year 30 BC the law was harsh and severe. And the woman was taken to a prophet who was in the region to be tried and sentenced to stoning.

The wise heard all the witnesses, the men who were involved with this woman claimed they were attracted by its impurity and its spells, the wives of men who lay with Magdalene really wanted it to be stoned.

Then the sage asked: where is the adulteress? And all pointed to the ground, with stones in hand ready for stoning, toward the woman who was in tears. And again the sage asked where the adulteration? And all again pointed to the woman who was on the ground crying.

His tears fell at the feet of the thinker who stopped for a moment and said to the crowd:

"When each of you pledged to love each other as a sign of respect for the Creator at least stopped to reflect on the consequences that the adulteration of thought would lead to their own destruction teaching?

What did this woman beyond just love?

I see in their faces adulterated by the expression of a thought that leads to hatred and seeks the destruction of the next as to what gushes misunderstanding.

Who really had adulterated the divine purpose? One that gave the body a sign of love for others or those who changed their initial purpose in interacting with the creator?

Then so be pronounced the sentence. He who does not have it in your face adulterated the true purpose of love that judge this woman for the crimes that have been allocated to it, ... "

And one by one all left without even a stone was thrown.

Author: Max Diniz Cruzeiro
LenderBook Company

How would the master: "Love one another as I have loved you"; "Love God above all things and your neighbor as yourself"


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Santa is Real

Christmas eve, wind so cold
Scent of pines all over our home
Tiny, shiny lights and decors
Gifts and presents to give for all

i'm just a little boy who loves Christmas
'cause i receive toys, and candies sometimes
But the best i want to experience,
Is to feel Santa's existence

My mama told a story about Santa
Fat, white-bearded, and in a red suit man
Living with his reindeers in North Pole
Making gifts for kids with kind soul

I put a big sock on my wall before I sleep
'cause they said Santa will put something on it
I have been a good boy this whole year
Hope he will give me the toy I've wished

I woke up, breeze, and felt so cold
It's twelve o'clock midnight, dong! dong!
Scared, frightened, I know I'm not alone
I kept my eyes conscious, alert in my room

I suddenly saw a Man who has a box
wrapped in a green paper, with a ribbon on top
He came near to my room, and found the sock
Happy, calm face, he put the box inside

I closed my eyes, for him to think i'm asleep
He sat on my bed and patted my hair
Said these words to me, and felt his heartbeat
"I love you, be a good boy again next year"

"Santa is real!" early in the morning I've yelled
All was awake because of my excitement
I've showed them the sock with a gift
Told the story of what was happened

Santa's expression is smile, not Ho!ho!
Santa is not fat! but a fit person
His beard and hair is not white, but brown
He's wearing white, shining like a sun!

***

1st Place
"Story Poem" contest
Sponsored by: Carol Eastman


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Christmas To Me



The old goose is getting plump Must be some special occasion in the offing Oh I remember, that jolly old man Will soon be riding into town on his sleigh Pulled by eight happy boisterous reindeer He'll be ringing his bell and singing Those happy Christmas songs we all know so well That have been with us for a lifetime “Frosty The Snowman” and “Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow!” Ahhh... those joyous memories of when we were kids Waking up early on Christmas morn But having to wait until Mom and Dad Gave us the okay to tear downstairs Our hearts overflowing with excitement As we first set sight on the gayly wrapped presents Piled high under and around the tree What joy, what excitement Breakfast??? Who could eat breakfast? We were allowed to open one present each But then we had to sit at the table for a good hearty meal How cruel was that, a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast We gulped it down and waited for the signal That we could leave the table And take our seats as our dear old Dad Read the tags on each present out loud When he called out our name, our hearts raced We quickly ripped of the colourful paper That Santa's workers had so carefully placed And screamed out with delight, “I GOT IT!” It was just what we had asked for Santa must have had secret agents snooping around What a time it was and what a time it is remembering!!! © Jack Ellison 2014


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The Lighting of The Tree

In our little town all is as it should be
We gather down at the Christmas tree

Us simple folk are not too greedy
We all bring gifts to give the needy

Light the tree and sing our songs
As everyone seems to get along

Especially bright this time of year
Everyone has Christmas cheer

I love the lighting of the tree
The entire towns hospitality

How everyone shares their love
Giving thanks to the Lord above

We live what Christmas is all about
Come on over and check it out

You’ll find love flowing abundantly
The night we light our “Christmas Tree”


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On That Night

Location: My oldest daughter’s house
Date: 2008 - 7 months after her death
Age: 59 years old, feeling more like 80
Event: Traditional Christmas Eve party
Emotional status: It was finally sinking in...
and so it was that:

Like most we wandered and wavered
and fell for the Devil's wily ways
But not on that night...
On that night all sins were forgiven
Curses dissolved into blessings
Tension melted in the glow of good will
Evil evaporated in the light of truth
Death succumbed to life...

Hugging our sons and our daughters
gently scolding wayward grandchildren
sipping on Eggnog spiked with Bacardi
slapping old friends on the back
bragging and telling tall tales
laughing hysterically at our lies

On that night there were no missing pieces
On that night the wounded world was healed
On that night, on that one blissful night
it all made sense...

Submitted for: Kelly’s ‘Christmas Past, Present or Future’ contest


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Merry Christmas To All My Sweet Souper Friends



A very, very Merry Christmas From Jester Jack to all my sweet Soupers friends Really must say youse guys are the greatest That this humble old poet Has ever had the pleasure of knowing Year after year, some come and some go But you regulars who stick around It is especially rewarding and heart warming I have friends all over the world What better way to promote peace and joy Than through the love of poetry Merry Christmas to all my sweet Souper friends! © Jack Ellison 2014


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Christmas Eve from Mouse's Viewpoint

It’s Christmas Eve and through the house There creeps a curious little mouse. He climbs into the big arm chair And finds the cookies waiting there. He only takes the smallest bite. Santa will find his treat tonight. He gazes with wonder at the tree And the bright wrapped gifts left there to be A mystery tale to tell his spouse, When he gets home, this curious mouse. What an adventure it has been, He has drunk of some spilled over gin, That had been left upon the table. His wife will think it is a fable He has concocted to amuse her. She is home-bound, we must excuse her. He once came home all out of breath To say he had been scared to death By a huge rat with fluffy tail. She noticed he was very pale. “While I was nibbling off some cheese To bring to you, my love, to please. He almost had me in his paws. I’m sure he wasn’t Santa Claus”. But this night is so very quiet. He spies some fruitcake, has to try it. It reminds him of that sip of gin And wonders if his head will spin. He hears a noise, runs for his life, Carrying fruitcake for his wife. Christmas morning, spread before their eyes For the baby mice, a grand surprise. Their mama had fixed a Christmas meal From food their dad managed to steal. A bit of butter, a glob of jam And a fairly good-sized piece of ham. Bread crumbs saved from other forays. They had enough to eat for days. Those little mice would never waste it. If they didn’t like it they’d still taste it. This food their mamma set before them, Their dad risked his life to get it for them.


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I wish it happened on Xmas

              In this cold wave I walked coldly in cold sweat.
          Taking a brisk walk like we shared in the old times.
                 Where I was headed for, I couldn’t envisage.
       But I was just walking hoping to catch a glimpse of something that could be a muse.

          I came across a bridge; what seemed like a labyrinth for lost and found souls.
              It was calm but very cold. It was still; the stillness seemed like a still alarm.
          The sun was not out-of-town. It gleamed and its sheens were much appealing.
              The tides were noticeable. They were out-of-the-way and seemed outpaced.

      Though the tides were astronomical, the sea lochs on the far side of the waterway
      were impressive in what seemed like an assemblage of oak fern, chinquapin oak and
      deciduous trees and displayed a mirror image of the trees with a thin misty
      atmospheric effect up-swinging as the warmth descend on the wintry water.

          Though I walked in cold sweat, I wished for a cold pack 
          to sooth my icily feelings created by your absence. 
             Then my wishes began to pop up. 
      I wish you were there with me. I thought about what you could do with such sights.
              I wish you were fleshly present in my heart. 
      I wish I could share with you this swift serenity encompassed in a deeply impressive 
     dignified quality with our hands clamped as we briskly walk on Christmas day.
              I wish it happened on Christmas.