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Abc Holiday Poems | Abc Poems About Holiday

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

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O' Christmas Card

*
              *                               *
A bountiful cascade, delivers enchantment,     *    *
             featuring, glittering holograms.
           *
Iridescent jubilance, kindles loveliness.       *
 
Moonlight nestles over peaceful quietude.

Resplendent stars, twinkle,           *
            uncovering velvet’s wonderland.   *

                                         Xanadu's yuletide zeal 



For the Contest: Snow ABC
Sponsored by yasmin khan
By Carrie Richards 3/13/12


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A Thin Line

I love you; I hate you
Jealousy is not the cause
Killing you wouldn’t justify
Lustfully breaking the laws

The third line is not an option


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BE CREATIVE WITH YOUR VACATION CHOICE

Why don’t we go 
For a vacation to Mogadishu
This year
If you know where to find it on the map
You can raise vegetables 
In a minefield
Or attend the birthday party of a warlord
Machine gun fire for dessert
Half of Mogadishu is on the run
To a better life
Sometimes people return to their home
If they can find it 
In a crater
With a cluster bomb lawn


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DOES JESUS COME IN A BOX

      On christmas day. will you be looking,
For a special gift under your tree?
Are you hopeing it will be waiting,
Wrapped in a pretty bow for you to see?

       On christmas day, will you remember,
The true gift that was given to all on this day?
His name was Jesus, and He was wrapped in swaddling clothes,
And in a manger box He was laid.

       So, Jesus did come in a box,
Wrapped for all to see!
Mary's precious little boy
Was a christmas gift for you and me!

        So, every year, we should remember,
The gift given to us from above,
The gift that was not wrapped in a bow,
But a gift that was wrapped in eternal love.



Sherry Smith



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SALERNO

I was looking down at the waves bicycling along Salerno. A sea-breeze is the air from the seafront to the mountain in every corner of the city. Passing people enjoy the stroll being born in a city to be rich.


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Christmas Cheer

For all my friends and family,
And those who are special to me
I pray that Christmas cheer,
Will stay in our hearts all year


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Creating A Christmas Tree

Creating A Christmas Tree

Create designer Christmas tree
From squash, to bread, and fun cookies

Instructions made so easily
One from red hat society

Home from the heart season theme
Star wars made a holiday scene

Wonderland can be of little lambs
Making ornaments with your hands

Whatever your style or budget
Your personal touch can be tropic

Focal point of your home can be
Inspired by glamorous jewelry

We can help you get great ideas
With animals and birds all right here	

My playlist has ribbons and streamers
A celebration for all dreamers

By; Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWSq_PMWxD9ozi9kFah-4L2le3b0_BY1P	 


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best friend

there  here  till  the  end  and  when  you  need a   helping  hand  they   are  most 
likely   to   help.they   will   always  be  there  when  your  sad  or  happy  or  
maybe  even  angry and  scared.


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what becomes of a broken heartache

i dont know why but i wish i new what becomes of a broken heartache.i dont 
know nobody knows its  confusing but 1 day we will figure it out


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angel

A is for apple her favourite food.
N is for nelly fortado her favourite singer.
G is for green her favourite colour.
E is for easter her favourite holiday.
L is for lilly her  favourite flower.


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Autum's Fall

Two silhouettes together, 
under the light of the moon. 
The hooting of owls, 
are singing a scary tune. 
Dark shadows fly past us, 
but your arms hold me tight. 
With thoughts on your love, 
I lose fear for the night. 
The pumpkin that glows 
on the steps by my door, 
seems to be smiling, 
makes me longing for more. 
The moonlight in the sky, 
shines down on the ground. 
Glistening the leaves, 
that covers the ground. 


By William P. Darnell Sr.


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Happy Holidays

I'm hoping all your hilidays,
Are happy in many special ways
From times spent with family,
I pray they'll all be merry


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We Need a Holiday

We need a holiday 
One free from remembering 
pain
I'm tired of remembering the 
fallen
People dying for no reason
Fighting to achieve equality
We need a holiday 
Free from all that we know
Reminding us of terrorist
Segregation and class 
distinction 
Political leaders taking from the 
poor
We need a holiday 
One that don't remind us death 
of our people
One free of reminding us to 
hold on
One not related to violence
A holiday where everybody 
lives
We need a holiday
One where the poor has 
enough to eat
A job for all
A day where I can walk the 
streets in safety 


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Stop Fighting Me, And Happy Brithday

I'm old enough and therefore wise;
With age our brains grow bigger in size.
So I wish for you a long, long life,
So your brain can grow bigger and stop causing strife.
And although we often disagree,
There’s a strong hope that I can see,
For it’s birthday time; a year has passed;
Your brain is getting bigger fast.
Before too long, your bulb may light;
No longer will you want to fight,
Because when you have a brighter mind,
It will be easier for us to think in kind.
With each year you live your thinking grows stronger,
And that’s why I wish you’ll live a whole lot longer.
Happy Birthday!


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Beautiful Happy Brithday

Happy birthday on this beautiful day,
There's so many things, I just want to say.
You inspire many, with your thoughts and actions,
We're all so grateful, for your calm reactions.

Happy birthday on this beautiful day,
You've always been there, when we needed you to stay.
Kindness and thoughtfulness is your forte,
Our love for you, we wish to convey.

Happy birthday on this beautiful day,
We wish you the best, without any delay.
Hope you enjoy it, from beginning till end,
Here's a hug and kiss, we're ready to send. 


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dancing

dance when you can.
there are different ways of dancing.
there's slow dancing.
fast dancing.
but every time you dance......................
your dancing  different.
all you need is music.
then just dance dance dance!!!


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E aster

it's  a  little  holiday.the  children love it.it's a time you  sit  with your  family and  
friends and  have  some  fun.some  people  stay  home and  others  go  out.you  
can  paint  hard  boiled  eggs  and  have  so  much  fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!








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Easter To Enjoy

Jesus came to earth, 
to show us how to live. 
How to put others first, 
how to love and how to give. 
Then He set about His work, 
that God sent Him to do. 
He took our punishment on Himself, 
He made us clean and new. 
He could have saved Himself, 
calling Angels from above. 
But He chose to pay our price for sin, 
He paid it out of love. 
Our Lord died on Good Friday, 
but the cross did not destroy. 
His resurrection on Easter morn, 
that fills our hearts with joy. 
Now we know our earthly death, 
like His, is just a rest. 
We'll be forever with Him, 
in heaven, where life is best. 
So we live our lives for Jesus, 
think of Him in all we do. 
Thank you Savior, thank you Lord, 
help us love like You! 


By William P. Darnell Sr.


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The Season Of Christ's Loving

Christmas trees all aglow
Putting on a colorful show
Festive ribbons and garland everywhere
Are placed with such care
Fancy bulbs that hang from it
Are very brightly lit
Handmade ones from grade school years 
Always brings me to tears
An angel or star upon the top
Shows Santa where to stop
Presents here and there 
To show how much you truly care
For this is the season of giving
And rejoicing in Christ's loving



I meant to post this one before Christmas, but  I have been really sick.  Still have this bad 
cold that I can't seem to shake.  Winter in Michgian is kicking my but.  Merry Christmas and 
Happy New Year to all of my friends on Poetry Soup.  Love, Janice Herzog xoxo


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My bad SANTA

I'm scared of Santa  

He knows who's been naughty
he know's who's been nice
It's got me kinda nervous
He knows my vice
He knows what I've been doin
And I wasn't so nice
I'm on the list
I didn't think twice
I'm startin to sweat
I'm startin to plan
I gotta get that list
before I get canned
He's got an army of reindeer
and they're all lookin for me
I've heard about this Rudoulph
He's especially mean
He has this nose
this nose that glows
Santa's gonna get me
Cookies won't help
Santa Claus is comin to town
God help me.



originally written under Janetta Harrington


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PASSION IS A HURRICANE

Ending of the thought
does not bring a lull.
It is a sequel beyond 
my reach. An old extrication,
I dig for my roots. 
The forgotten names, 
the unhealing wounds of a doctrine,
a tiny memory of pulsating embryo,
not yet born !

Fear generates a kill. Ferocious movement 
inside the cells slowly,
you become zero without a center.
The tangent skips 
on your surface. Claustrophobia. 
You start breaking the walls.
Fighting anxiety & shame 
a timeless timber without a foliage.

My ignition point is hurt in
the new culture of game.
How we approach the road, 
which smells the death, 
blood or smoke? 
The passion is a hurricane. 
Uproots all the bones, 
shatters all the roots. 
A glory reckons after a while, 
for the election of sorrow.



SATISH VERMA


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ON BURNING COALS

Loneliness of non-being and,
reality, fill up the vessel. 
I search for the eloquence while, 
emptiness will be my forte. 
Countless words are crossing 
like a promise in milk-white days 
I gather sunlight through grass leaves.

Life had been full of shadows, 
lengthening, penetrating 
the tapestry of love. 
The descent was steep. 
Coming home I found 
no humming words. 
Sitting in dark 
I wait for shooting stars.

Measuring the blood, drawn from our hurts
was a royal reward 
for your fingers. 
You are allowed to compare blood 
with brown coffee. 
Sand in our eyes, 
we walked bare-foot 
on burning coals.


SATISH VERMA


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BECOME MY FATHER

He did not want to climb the spiral helix,
a son will be born without him.
He said I want to become my father
and see the decline.

How for shall we go to investigate?
An infant wrapped up in plastic explosive
was going to be presented on dais.
An unclothed carcass was lying between you and me,
body donated for the study
of failing restraints. How death would behave
in broad daylight?
The vasectomy did not work. Testosterone was
still flowing.

Reading Kafka, peanuts!
We have come near emptiness
of a tree, hollowed by white ants.



SATISH VERMA


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Leap Year

Boss, being as this is leap year
and Feb 29th is an extra day
do I have to work tomorrow?
tomorrow being an EXTRA day

He says,  take your appeal 
to the big man upstairs
he invented 365 days
and these pesty leap years

With all due respect, I reply
I thought it was the Greek culture
Not the the big man upstairs
that invented "time" as we know it

(I didn't REALLY say that, I just thought it)

BUT, I say, it's an EXTRA day
kinda like SATURDAY?
do you expect me to work
SATURDAY?

So he says, look at it this way
most months are 30 or 31 days long
so really, you are working a short month
only 29 days long

I have to admit
this crap makes sense
so I give up my appeal
concerned that I might
if I don't keep quiet
end up owing money in the deal





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PLASMA OOZING

We listened deeply to the sounds 
of seed power of duality. 
I was very restive 
there was no time to review 
the veracity of benevolence. 
It was a flight of songs, 
a passage through silence.
 
The event and nonevent, 
became burning topics enslaving the angles of lips 
and splitting the smiles. 
If you wanted to feel the truth, 
you must undergo splendid mutation,
to read the grains, 
the sun, the rains.

Here comes the moon 
sailing on dry bones
of our trivialities; 
of our banalities, 
shutting off our thoughts. 
Multiples of our arts, 
our performances, 
had the plasma oozing 
from our buried themes.


SATISH VERMA


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BURNT TASTE

A cyan globe
rolling in the black sky.
I was visualizing
an earthset
on the horizon.

Lianas
threw a noose
around my neck.
Did I 
start the fires?

My dissent
was of any relevance?
Who was standing
on the moon?

Self-centered was your vision
I was trying
to turn the tide.

So much bragging
could not go well with me.
The tongue had the burnt taste.

 
SATISH VERMA


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GREEN VISION

In a starry night
an adolescent thought starts
a rivalry. A baby moon squirms.
No hour was safe from terror in dark.
I climb the stairs breathlessly.

The great divide deepens in hearts.
Incisors bite the tongue,
grey cells bleed inside.
Thick ash has not stopped the cinders
smouldering under the veils of flushed peace.
Cupped tears wash the feet of death,
a caravan of words moves desolated,
cutting on the edges, before you say
goodbye to green vision.

Today I am pulling out the nails
from the walls. No hangings of departed centuries.
No portraits of exiled flames.
Only the face of truth, burning
at the interface of unthruths.



SATISH VERMA


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FORGOTTEN HILLS

Again I was giving chase
to a mirage.
Wiping off the transient thoughts
oozing from every orifice,
I will sell my dreams today.
Limb by limb,
the naked and brute will buy 
the bonanza.

For a lost scent
I wandered from moon to moon
flitting past the sky of doves,
and the lonely winds
of crowded griefs.
The trampled earth
will not soak the joy of burning sun.
The tree and the flowers,
and the seeds falling in a heap
went unnoticed.

Now I will go in the forgotten hills
through mist and rains.
Give me some more pain,
it makes me move faster. 


SATISH VERMA


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FULL STOP

I allowed you to tread on me unflinchingly.
My mind on pause,
ungrieved you turn back the clock.
Enough to stun the century,
I take cognisance of divine’s club foot.

I did not believe in self-pity
but I was racing against time
to avoid a jealous path running with me.
Yet I was sleeping on bushes of estranged thorns
without locking my golden age.

Tulips are no more my favourites.
You have to dig deep to plant the bulbs
and wait. When death opens the door for me,
I wanted to be free from any commitment
and ready to walk in, like a foot soldier.

This cosmos is mine, body is for you.
It no more obeys my command.
No more commas are needed,
a final full stop will do.
I am returning back to my home.




SATISH VERMA


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WITHOUT BARGAINING

A view from the cause, 
alters the landscape in you
I surrender to the earth,
the roots. Purifying the leaves. 
I tell myself, this was not me, 
my music. Still my skin
has the tattoos of pandemic deafness. 
I am breathing through the lips.

My attachment to death
is a private affair
my voice lies in a lake. 
The butterfly in a womb. 
the psalms under the rocks.
Is it ending of death 
or death of ending? 
I go beyond the brink, 
drop the stone in water.

When the moon touches 
my eyes, like a kiss
I start sharing the menu of night. 
The rimless thoughts are hovering
like small birds. I listen 
to their flappings. 
Can we live without bargaining? 
Do you know the price?



SATISH VERMA