nature sings softly her lively recital
everything is glorious and looks vital
the swans exhibit courtship behavior
movements weary tiles for a spring paviour
thrushes chitter their earliest symphony
birdseed germinates and outspreads spring widely
two newts show a beautiful mating dance
strawberry plants use their early spring chance
a show of new born green just above the ground
alders pollen causing sneezing peoples' sound
few snowdrops, celandine, white dead nettle
and hazel trees show leaves and huge mettle
appetite dictates this walk with our dog
a craved annual entry in our blog
at length awaited while walking and watching
dozens of reasons for thinking and talking
the artificial Christmas tree just packed
the baubles and the glass peak safely wrapped
a large cup of hot chocolate a good mate
served forthwith stale Christmas cookies on a plate
Let frigid winter come,
it feels nice to be lonesome,
seeing myself snuggled up
in a comfort blanket holding a cup
of cocoa by this warm fireplace...
while the wanderer's frozen face
is dotted with the whitest snowflakes
as he rubs his red, freckled nose!
Isn't this an unforgettable moment
to delight me feeling the thrill
of the Season with its distinct chill?
Isn't this the magic of Christmas
when joy is felt in a calm land
by the sound of chiming bells?
Let frigid winter come and cover everything in glistening, deep snow,
and 'though the evening will not have the moon's glow,
brightness can lead my footsteps really far...
shouldn't I play a Christmas song on this guitar?
I will go from house to house and knock on every door...
tingle everyone with great joy by spreading the message of the Savior!
I'm very confident that going back home
stars will gleam and children will roam:
singing, shouting, swirling and throwing heavy snowballs;
happy angels will be heard on gelid gulls,
but who minds waiting in the bitter cold...
when a Divine Child comes down to redeem the sinful world?
Entered in Carol Sunshine Brown's contest,
" Fire And Ice "
Written by Andrew Crisci
on 12/ 3/ 2012
Snowflakes waltz on cold breezes
Remembered dance steps centuries old
Changing partners on a whim
Caring not whose creation they will trim
Father North Wind interjects boldly
Guiding the familiar waltzing journey
As flake swirls and spin gracefully
Always retaining their individuality
Jack Frost, his night shift ending
Leaps and twirls from place to place
Freezing morning dew, now expanding,
Preparing for the dance troupe landing
Mother Nature, the definitive director
Observes diligently each intricate design
Ever mindful of their desired destination
Knowing each becomes a Christmas decoration
Blissfully unaware of the preparations for the show
Children awaken to blankets of snow
Hastily donning coats, caps, boots and gloves
Father Christmas, delighted, smiles down from above
Note: I wrote this last winter during the Christmas Season. Hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas !!!
They’ve hauled me into the parlour,
secure in terracotta packed with soil,
to sit awhile before my ritual humiliation.
Soon I will be baubled,
showy, gaudy, tinselled –
the court jester who will keep
them smiling through their feast –
and burdened with things that dangle,
like a tart’s cheap earrings,
and those little wooden reindeer,
hand-painted, made in Korea.
But for now they seem
to contemplate my noble nakedness,
their eyes detained by something
unplumbed in their reality;
and they are silenced, for just an instant,
by a notion, perhaps, of distant green,
a timeless forest that impinges
on the periphery of their awareness,
seeing me as I would remain,
could they but permit
such an insult to their tradition.
Santa's on his way
chill'n in his sleigh
all night he's delivering
while inside soft lights shimmering
out upon winter's Chrsitmas snow
it casts a glistening glow.
Windows of ice sickles glistening
while for sleigh bells children listening
his warm nature glowing
With spirit of Christmas flowing
Santa warms little childrens hearts
while eating all the cookies and tarts.
Santa's no time to play
but to bring play dough and clay
time for reindeer soon to fly
way up high in the chilling sky
his gentle nature of giving
makes life to all worth living.
When one is young or young at heart Christmas is everything!
A season ago we stood
in this spot where the pine grove
was greener than the thick grass,
we looked above and saw stars.
Then was a starlit August,
a month all lovers adore,
but returning in December...
the pine grove had turned white.
Ah! No longer we could spread
our blanket and dream as kids!
Ah! No longer the stars would
gather and shed light on us!
And since not one pine tree was
adorned with lights, an idea
sparked our Yule imagination:
to put a star on all of them!
Entered in Russell Sivey's contest,
" Natural Dodoitsu "
Written by Andrew Crisci on 12/26/12
From this glazed window over the wide and bare plain,
I contemplate mounts covered in white...
breathing the purest air, watching a kite
fly in a cloudless sky that yesterday was filled with rain!
Do I wish for spring? No, because landscapes attest
that winter is also beauty despite cold and snow!
Do I feel great sadness? No, because stillness is rest
for a weary spirit like mine surviving on a warm glow!
Cuddled up in a wool blanket that grandma crocheted
on harsh winter nights, I'm munching on warm bread...
the kind baked in a break oven so deliciously crunchy;
winter stay, let me reminisce those past ones so hasty!
For many winter days are dreary, for me it's subtle silence that lasts...
allowing more serene thoughts that have a better reflective view!
Do I rather see snow than a green meadow gleaming with dew?
My answer is yes, because it rushes in another awaited Christmas!
From this glazed window over the bare and wide plain,
I spot a lonely shallow struggling and feeling much pain;
it stayed behind to discover a beautiful season that the others dislike...
fly into my palm, small bird and admire those mounts covered in white!
Scorched as a desert eagle,
trying to get to a cool river
to wash and soothe his dry feathers,
I shout to the sizzling Nature,
" Let sun rays turn into snowflakes! "
I must place the green mistletoe on my door,
hang silver bells on it and make them ring
when guests come in with heavy coats
draped with snow as their breaths steam...
oh, summer turn into winter!
Shivering as a boy who has built a tall snowman,
I rush into a home where delights are many:
presents stacked up under a freshly-cut Christmas Tree
as lights make me dream of that Holy Night in Bethlehem...
when baby Jesus lay asleep and angels surrounded Him!
Christmas is many months away,
and wouldn't Santa cheer up everyone tonight...
as he comes down from the snowy sky and crashes on his fat belly?
Everyone thinks that I am going insane by wishing Christmas in summer
by constantly yelling, " Let sun rays turn into snowflakes! "
What i love
About Christmas time
Is a leggy bird
And a vintage wine
With succulent breasts
And a figure so tanned
When i wash my hands
She'll soon be manned
She's the type of bird
Who leaves me well fed
With a glass of wine
I'm ready for bed
But this little bird
Can sure last longer
For she double serves
And my hungry heart grows fonder
At my table she sits
As my hands delight
She has my admiration
This delicious bird on Christmas Day
Is natures Turkey, a delight I'll say
And just before we sit down to eat
We are incredibly thank full, for such a treat
My entry for Donna Golden's contest " Turkey Tribute "
The starry illumination
reflected upon the glazed Christmas snow,
which had fallen much earlier as silent children
waited with anticipation, not showing a frown;
they wished to see Santa's sleight flying low:
would he do away with this old tradition?
This was the night when angels choruses
would be heard over a land waiting for His birth;
then the shepherds saw many wonders,
now silence hushes the white, solitary fields,
and nobody is awake to be amazed by angelic visions...
why hasn't Christmas come and why do children wait?
The Starry illumination
is the same the Magi saw from their palaces,
and certain of their expectation:
they loaded their camels
and left for Bethlehem happily;
three gifts they brought to honor the new King,
why have all forgotten that he is born to show humility?
Hasn't he become small for us to love him with less fear?
Gathered as sheep in an October field, all children lose hope
of getting presents, tonight Santa will not come down the slope;
perhaps they were thinking of giving them to Jesus
as he peacefully lays in the small crib made of hay:
oh, how much they would love to watch him play!
One of them picks up a wooden drum and says,
" Follow me to the manger and sing, " The Drummer boy. "
Jesus won't ask us for a gift...He wants us to feel His glory! "