These Autumn Christmas poems are examples of Christmas poems about Autumn. These are the best examples of Autumn Christmas poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
My Mother caring about all five in different ways
Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays
My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John.
music a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !
Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
The music takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "
My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food
the yelling , slamming of doors , tempers Flare , passion
Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?
Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee
No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
the Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .
Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
Excited in Chicago ! seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
Cubs , museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `
Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones ,
scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
~ That is the Family I Love ,
that is the Family I choose to miss ~
Oh, make up your mind my schizophrenic love
Unpredictable are your ways
I can’t stand your waxing and waning
Are you trying to drive me away?
Drifting from a gentle snow shower to a hurricane
Why can’t you be predictable like the golden days of summer?
Or serene like a fine autumn morn’s mist?
No more cold shoulders…
I want a dusting of snow on Christmas eve
And a plush velvet blanket for Christmas morn
No more highs and lows where anything goes
Just be bold and romantic
You’re so easily distracted-you’re hyperactive
I don’t want a wishy washy winter wonderland
Don’t make me go talk to Mother Nature
Even the weather man is scratching his head!
By Gwendolen Rix
Written for Nette's Contest~Personifying January~
& Deb's Contest~Something Different~
nota bene-Ohio winters are notorious for labile weather.
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.
A single leaf,
Falls out of a tree above me,
As it twist and turn,
The wind blows it in my direction,
It symbolizes the ending point of my
struggles and all my pain,
It tells me that they twist and turn,
But never remain,
It takes a sudden fall next to me,
It symbolizes the thought of being
It tells me that someone is always
by my side,
As I write,
The leaf flies away,
As if it had a huge success in
Nature communicates with us in
Not with words,
But with a single leaf out of a tree.
Let's escape to space
& Leave the human race
Space-love a new awesomeness
Forget the life & the gloominess
Kiss me, because I care
Even thought the life is unfair
I want to be a space-lover
Love you now, tomorrow & forever
Lest Live in a house made of stars
& drive spaceship instead of cars
We feel the space-love in moon
I'll be yours, you'll be mine so soon
Galaxy, universe, stars & limitless
Screw the world, we found happiness.
Christmas day is coming soon
I can hear the little drummer boys beat
As I sleep under a stack of newspapers
At my home here on the street
I have no shade from the summer heat
No shelter from a spring storm
When autumn and winter roll around
I have no blanket to keep me warm
I have no one to talk to
No doctor to keep me well
My life is like the seventh circle
Of an everlasting hell
I have no feast on Thanksgiving
On my birthday, I have no cake
Most nights as I sleep in my concrete bed
I pray and hope I won't wake
I think about the man I used to be
The one that died so long ago
Now all that's left is this scruffy, filthy creature
Who I don't even know
Now that Christmas is here again
I pray to the good Lord above
For a gift that most don't appreciate
Filled with lots of happiness and love
I'm not talking about material things
I can get by without any of that
All I want is a house and a family
Complete with a dog and a cat
I wish every single Christmas season
That my dear, sweet Lord would send me
A beautiful family with warm, smiling faces
Sipping hot chocolate around a Christmas tree
We would have a most amazing feast
A rack of lamb tied up with a bow
Then we would all get bundled up
And go caroling in the snow
Oh, how glorious that would be
To have a family and a few friends
To have people who love me
Even after this life ends
God please hear my prayers
And answer them if you can
Just grant one simple Christmas wish
To this old homeless man
Like autumn leaves
the years had withered and blown away.
Her schoolgirl dreams had been set aside or
if appropriate wrapped in gay-patterned paper
and placed beneath the Christmas tree of her heart.
She awoke from dreamless sleep
and wondered who she was and where she was,
but the breathing of her husband and the ticking of the clock
reminded her of the person called ‘mother’ and ‘dear’.
Almost as a duty Christmas morn had come again.
Dad would visit today
and search her face for sadness,
for only he would notice if sparkling eyes had grown dim
and if her eyes, when blinking,
stayed closed a bit too long.
Amid a gaggle of restless children
she would nod a deferential nod
and inwardly long for the days when
Dad and daughter sailed the distant reaches
of their bright vivacious minds.
The once-a-year napkins
red and green with matching placemats
were ready for the throng; and the tree,
already bending low from weight of Christmas finery
would soon be gathered 'round.
For the children it was the perfect day,
but for her the conductor's podium was a lonely place.
She knew how fragile such happiness was;
more fragile, thought she,
than the hand blown bulbs upon the tree.
The children were awake!
Excited giggles and the tearing of wrapping paper
meant that Santa Claus had really come!
Yet Santa, tired from another hectic year,
simply smiled and closed her eyes.
© 2009 James Rasmusson
A monastery grows from the songs of its strange crew,
Monastery painted with blue of unique Voronezh blue
And a new comer, blond icicle, bare footed, gnarled
Deaf and mute -it is said -singing “Have mercy, God!”
Stalactite and stalagmite in their cells, monks and nuns
Some of them so innocent like the sober day that runs;
Hanged from the heaven of their great expectations held
From the glass dawn to noon singing:“Have mercy, God!”
The others in their rusty autumn or white winter,
All calling the Promised Land that started to glitter
In their heart and from this light the sky seems fired
And the forest`s echo repeated: “Have mercy, God!”
In the twilight mist two monks try to cut down
The evergreen tree to bring it for kids in the town;
Children glide on sleigh and even tired go later to bed.
They learnt carols and angels sing “Have mercy, God!”
Few years back I use to make Paintings
Mostly of landscapes
And sometimes, abstracts or portraits
The oil paintings which I use to make were such,
That anyone would have
Found them to possess and love
It was a season of Christmas and I was
Strolling, when I saw two beautiful poetry books
One on the season of Autumn and other on Christmas
It had a bunch of adorable world of poetry
So beautiful and so lovely
Printed with beautiful photos and scenes
The photo of Jesus was so enchanting
With His loving eyes spreading
The message of peace, love and humanity
One day when I was trying to draw a sketch
My brush started making on its own
A beautiful picture of Jesus
One evening, when that portrait of Jesus
Was almost complete
A Christian friend of mine saw that picture fine
He was overwhelmed with joy and love
And hugged me as if I was someone very fine
He asked me? If I can gift that portrait to a Church divine
I had felt a joy in making that beautiful portrait
But giving it for a place of shrine
Was the most wonderful feeling, one can cherish in his life time
He asked me to come with that portrait of Jesus Christ
And give that gift to his Church on Christmas Day
In the Church, where he was going to prey
I can never forget that Christmas day
While seeing that lovely portrait of Jesus
The priest blessed me with love, while tears in his eyes
I am not a Christian, but still I love Jesus
For all the kindness and love he gave to humanity
And pain and sufferings He faced for us
I still keep those two most beautiful poetry books
Like a precious treasure
And can never forget those lovely moments of sketching Jesus Christ.
Kanpur 29th Nov. 2009
Entered for Raul Moreno’s contest "The Deposition"
Note 1: This poem is based on my own true happenings. I am still
Keeping those poetry books published and printed in US around
1960’s and purchased by me second hand from a Magazine shop
Around 1965 as my most valuable treasure. But since a long
I am have not made any Paintings.
Note 2: Incidentally I have traced that Portrait now shining in the
care of my senior friend Mr. J F Patteson & brilliantly
preserved by him till now.