In midst of forest stands an ancient tree
decorated by nature with white cotton snow puffs,
icicles glisten and gleam sparkling in the sunlight.
Around its base are gathered all the forest's creatures
with pregnant pause they wait as the star shines out
a beacon to all calling out, hush now do you hear?
The sleigh bells ringing out as down swoops Santa
wait, he is not alone with him the blessed babe
in distance approach the three wise men bears gifts.
All the creatures now on bended knees him they salute
the ancient tree smiles knowingly and the heavens
celebrate with comet tails and shooting stars the precious babe.
contest Hush of Christmas Past
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
This evening, while you're still asleep,
I'll leave your window sill and creep
out through your door...
Advancing quickly through the gloom,
I'll prance into your living room
and as you snore...
I'll pulverize your rug and purr,
while sizing up your Douglas Fir,
then, when I leap,
will dangle ever frantically,
until each spangle from your tree
is in a heap!
I'll maim your floppy socks's toes
and claim your boxes tops's bows
in savage bites!
Then lift, at last, my pretty tail
and spritz a blast of 'Kitty Male"
to snuff your lights!
Copyright © Lycia Harding
Bursting from within the heart of a blizzard shock wave,
Shutters the flexing eye of this white hurricane storm,
Shattering the inner core into a blazing shards torrent,
A miracle of utter mystical enchantment occurs,
In this ancient incantations sacred spell.
It is a crystallized super nova’s raw force, exploding from
The inner guttural roar of nature giving birth, to
The snow bird of paradise.
In its translucent chamber egg of ice, resting in the
Diamond dust covered nest, lined with crystal frozen gems,
Shimmering beneath the chilling Artic sun, as the
Freezing embrace of mother earth, rocks her starling,
Kindred off spring, waiting, are anticipating its hatching.
Ever tenderly the life within stirs, as if a captured moment
Of purities grace, encapsulated in brilliance opulence,
The shells shard melts away, in a hushed display of beauties
Refinement and complete elegance.
Nature itself seems to hold its very breath, as the
Snow bird rises, for the first motions step, in a swaying
Waltz of harmony.
Behold the snow bird strides forth, fanning her plumage
Behind, a white laced peacock is exposed, unfolding its winged
Feathers delicately, one by one, until the colors
Reflect the light rays from the polar sun.
Gleaming in radiance, the fineries majestic appendages
Sparkle with razzle-dazzles adornments, yet the winds brush
At her downy softness, as if caressing the fleece of a new
Born lamb’s wool, ever so gently.
Plumages lace of snowflakes spread wide, in a splendors display
Of glitz and glamour, as the fluffy strains ripple in the night winds
Whispering, come along my beautiful creation, it is time to warm
My soil with springs everlasting promise, once more.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs
Christmas paper shreds;
Cats chasing curly ribbons;
Oh no, call the vet!
Copyright © M. L. Kiser
Winter is a coming in upon this Christmastide
And snowflakes fall on field and fell across the countryside
To cover brown and green, they spread their one blanket of white
And here and there, a white bump hints at something out of sight
Does he know it's Christmas, that sheepie in the snow?
Most likely not; he knows it's cold with no warm place to go.
He's somewhere there below the white, with snow piled up around
Wondering where went the light, what happened to the sound?
There is no time to hesitate, leave rescue undelayed
Put on your boots and hasten out, armed with your trusty spade
To dig around that snowclad hump that hides the sheepie form
And take that festive sheep inside, somewhere that he'll be warm
So do not get a Christmas tree, they don't belong inside
Get, instead, a Christmas sheep to celebrate Yuletide
Decorate him if you wish; things suitable to chew
For a Merry Christmas spent in company of ewe
Copyright © Lee Leon
Early one Christmas morn
my eyes flew open wide,
found no gifts under the tree
so I ran to look outside.
Everywhere, on the ground
lay mounds of fluffy snow
and parked right in front,
topped with a big red bow,
was my trusty old wagon
full of presents galore.
Four eyes peeked out and
made my emotions soar.
Two furry little playmates
to fill the hours of my days
full of love and amusement
with their wild, playful ways.
Copyright © Cona Adams
PAWS FOR CHRISTMAS
The tree stood straight,
It looked so nice.
Even had shiny things,
To look like ice.
A star on the top,
Was special to see.
Plus the lights and toys,
Filled our hearts with glee.
A package or two,
Were placed on the floor.
For family and guests,
To see and adore.
Then the puppy came close,
What did he see?
What is that shiny thing on his nose,
From the Christmas tree.
How did the ornament so bright,
Get down on the floor?
I bet this puppy could tell you,
As he ran for the door.
What are these teeth marks,
On the package we see?
A gift from our puppy,
Under the tree.
But we take it in stride,
And hug the old mutt.
For it's his Christmas too,
but "stay out of the nuts".
RAYMOND V. MORGAN
Copyright © Raymond Morgan
In a small Iowa town, picturesque,
as some would put, is a farm
so let me continue on a bit,
and I'll spin a Holiday yarn
Down a long country lane, not far from town,
there was a farm, not big, fifty acres and a half
on the farm, lived a large animal family,
the youngest, was Callie the Calf
It was a week before Christmas,
Horatio the Horse came in from the yard
he unhitched from the sleigh, came into the barn,
and handed Callie the Calf a Christmas card
The card, from Buddy the Dog and Baily the Cat,
friends of hers from the city
inside was an invitation, to a party
a New Year's party, better dress pretty
Christmas came and Christmas went,
the snow did lightly fall
Callie was getting ready for,
the New Years gala ball
She spoke with her friends, through the animal vine,
to find out about the fare
if there was anything, she had to bring,
and just who all might be there
Baily said," don't bring anything,
bring a date, or just yourself
Callie was so excited, when she heard,
Jackson might be coming, dressed as an Elf
Here it is, it's New Years Eve.
it is finally party day
Horatio Horse, was waiting outside,
to take her in the sleigh
All grown up for the party,
Horatio, gave Callie a Knightly bow
and said," you're no longer a baby,
You've grown into a Cow"
You Go Girl !
Copyright © Richard Pickett
Page 3 of An Ode to:
The Last Christmas Goose
This tells a dark side
Of the holiday season.
We don’t often ponder
For very good reason.
Thanksgiving is coming,
I’ll make it past that,
But I’m on extra feed,
It’s making me fat.
I’ll get very worried,
As Santa draws near,
That’s the time of year,
So many geese fear.
So what’s the big deal,
I say with a shout,
I’ve looked all around,
And see, no geese about.
That can mean just one thing,
My days are now short.
Unless I make to the farmer
Some clever retort.
What do you say to a fella,
That follows old habits,
No ham or roast beef,
Or gray furry rabbits.
Adorn the man’s table,
At this time of year.
Nothings better than goose,
With their Christmas cheer.
So let’s say: Good-bye.
It’s been good ta know ya.
If I had more time,
I’d love to have shown ya.
All over the farm,
The in’s and the outs.
But now little piggy,
I’ve just time to pout.
Say farewell to the others,
As you learn their names.
If they seem out of sorts,
Remember……. farmers game.
Written by oldbuck, June 2, 2008,
after his daughter kidded him
about being another Dr. Seuss
and should write a goose rhyme.
Copyright © Old buck
When I was young
I cried for no one I drowned my sorrow
In pride of being dry- eyed.
And inside of me a dam of tears not shed
I had a dog she lived to fourteen I borrowed
A spade and dug her deep into the soil.
The dam busted.
For days I cried for my parents, siblings,
The dog and all those
I loved so deeply but never said I did.
Old now I cry easily when seeing children and animals
And it pines me to know
This is the way of the world and no God
Around the corner to save us.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen
An Ode to:
The Last Christmas Goose.
At our last meeting
I was lamenting the loss
Of all my old friends
Like with a coin toss.
There must have been a dozen,
Good healthy, fat birds,
We all were good friends,
Seldom shared a harsh word.
But that too would change,
As our numbers grew thin.
You had to be quick,
If you wanted to win.
Win what? you would ask,
That’s the troublesome part,
It brings up the farmer,
And the knife to our heart.
You see the whole value,
Of geese on a farm,
Is not too look pretty,
Or to poop in the barn.
No, we’re wanted game,
When winter comes round.
Out comes the small hatchet,
Leaves a head on the ground.
One by one they were taken,
To a place we don’t talk.
To a stump in the back,
Where the last, go to squawk.
With that gloomy thought
I’ll close out on part 2
On my return I’ll commence
No write lines, a few.
(to be continued)
Copyright © Old buck
In Heaven’s light, a babe at peace,
the King of kings wrapped warm in fleece.
We heard the angels’ trumpets sound.
His gift of light shone all around.
A worship song, I could not sing.
I had no gifts of gold to bring.
For I was just a gentle lamb,
led to the town of Bethlehem.
My shepherd traveled to that place
with tears of joy upon his face.
He bowed in prayer then danced and leaped
until he heard the Christ child weep.
He saw him shivering on the hay,
met Mary’s weary eyes and prayed.
Without a word, God stirred his heart.
He sheared my wool, and filled his cart.
Then, pushed it to the stable where,
he warmed the babe with loving care.
A smile parted Mary’s lips,
and Joseph’s hand, she gently gripped.
With glory, angels sang on high
as man and beast looked to the sky.
I had no gifts of gold to bring.
A song of praise, I could not sing,
I gave the Lord a gift of fleece.
Oh, holy babe, He sleeps in peace.
For Isaiah's Christmas with Christ Contest, 11/25/15
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Turkey with trims
Sunbathing in hot oven, ready for gazzumping!
Copyright © Sarah Jane Smith
Cats and Christmas Trees Contest
Sponsor: Mary Oliver Rotman
I remember back in 1986,
I was only six years old.
I've heard so many versions,
But the truth must be told.
My lil' kitty Daisy,
Was literally crazy,
Sometimes a lil' lazy,
Never ceases to amaze me.
We had a real Christmas tree,
Not an artificial green pine,
The needles so pricky,
Could send chills up her spine.
She sat and starred,
At this one small ornament,
I made it for my grammy,
Almost caused an argument.
I continued watching her,
Began at the skirt of the tree,
Fighting for a spot,
Next to our puppy Mugsy
Hot on her heals,
She takes off quickly,
Bouncing off Papa's lamp,
Cat the brat looks at me.
Daisy sure was curious,
With a side of smitten,
I've never seen so much,
Confidence in a tiny kitten.
There she finally went,
Up and up that woody plant,
Roughly clambers it,
Her paws start to expand.
Knocking pine needles off,
Chewing on the tinsel,
Mommy tried everything,
Wouldn't come when she whistled.
Cats seem to be hard-wired,
Ancestors ruining tree's,
Complete feline fascination,
Out on a tangent spree.
I need to go get rosemary,
A safe cat repellent,
If I hurry very fast,
It may be a good deterrent.
As she decides to decline,
The look of fear on her face,
Too scared to climb down,
Thinking it's not very safe.
But who was there to help?
I was only six years old,
I'd do absolutely anything,
And that's how the story is told.
After everything is over,
I read a wise phrase quack,
"You can take the cat out of the jungle,
But you can't take the jungle out of the cat."
Written: November 17, 2015
Copyright © Laura Urbaniak