(The Autistic Child)
Born with walls constructed in her mind,
She keeps the world and all its threat at bay,
Inside her rocking chair day after day,
A month, a year, an hour, no sense of time
Just rocking, rocking all her life away.
Christmas comes and presents pile around
Her chair; she sees the paper, shining, colors bright;
She reaches for the red, the blue, the white.
She revels in the crumpling paper sound--
Just rocking, rocking in her endless night.
The family gathers for the festive meal,
She will not leave her chair, her treasured place,
The never-ceasing motion of her private race.
She’s rocking in her solitary reel,
An empty stare on her unchanging face.
But what is this, her sister’s gentle hand
A soft, accepted touch , a simple smile,
“I want to sit with you a little while”--
Contact made without seeming to demand
They rock together—a stationary mile.
Copyright © Karen Ruff | Year Posted 2014
Came home just the other day
Caught my kitties well at play
Cats like to climb up trees it's true
They have the Christmas spirit too!
But not my lovely Christmas tree!
They looked as innocent as can be
With ornaments hanging off his nose
One came out smelling like a rose
For his little sister was worse than that
She was a silver garland-wrapped cat!
Oh they had such fun 'til I came home
Their saucer eyes so brightly shone
I couldn't stay mad for very long
Soon was singing a different song
Found the camera and flashed some shots
Cleaning up all the messy spots
Re-hung the ornaments on the tree
Again it was lovely as could be!
Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2010
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 ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Doesn't Christmastime mean
presents, carols and cheers?
But for one it won't
be a jolly Holiday
diagnosed with breast cancer.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013
Childhood should ideally be packed full
Of giggles and hugs and good times at school.
But not all childhoods are walks in the park.
Some's starting years are tragic and dark.
Sometimes the parents are just not able
To make everything so loving or stable.
And the ones we lean on are shockingly small
They live in our homes and cushion the fall.
Because not all monsters are under the bed
And not all fear is just in your head.
Friends understand a that or a this
But nothing replaces a bro or a sis!
Holidays are beautiful when shared with others
Especially a slew of sisters or brothers.
To all of the siblings, but especially mine
You are what polishes my Christmas-time shine!
Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2015
The Day Before Christmas
A poem written to my sister Karen (aka Ti-Ti)
Written just 8 days leading up to the day she took her life)
I only love you dearly,
And that is why I pray,
For just a few simple graces,
To bless you with each new day.
May God's warmth encompass you,
During the cold hours of your life,
I pray you feel His arms,
Wrapped around you every night.
May His strength fill your spirit,
When it's easier to follow,
May you lead the lost to salvation,
Teaching peace to fill the hollow.
May His mercy be your light,
And open your eyes to see,
That it is His conviction,
That actually sets you free.
May His word make you wise,
And His truth bring you to trust,
In all the good He has for you,
And walking His path is a must.
And in whatever ways you falter,
What ever decisions you've made,
Always trust in His ways,
And acknowledge Him in all your days.
For God's plans for you are a gift,
A beautiful journey for only you,
Please remember His unconditional love,
His forgiveness and His truth...
May God bless you Karen and keep you in His care.
Today and always."
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015
Some years ago there was a man in heaven and he gave gifts unto men,
I listen to the sound of Christmas all around me,
Glistening snow reminds me of loved ones in heave,
My daughter sings of silent nights alone with God,
There is no sacrifice great enough to thank him for his submission,
Sometimes we must stand alone, because that is what he asks of us,
But we are never alone,
The sound of Christmas envelopes us and says, “I see you.”
It whispers to us, “I love you.”
It caresses us with my daughter’s winter chilled cheeks,
Some years ago, there was a man in heaven and he gave gifts unto men,
And these tears I cry, are not tears of sorrow, or merely joy, but a sound.
A ringing of gratitude, that gently chimes with the gracious bells of salvation army reps.
A ringing of brotherhood, throughout the stores and slushy streets.
Yes, it’s true there is much sorrow in this world.
There is much pain,
There is much darkness,
Yes, there is much for us to learn,
And this sound, this wondrous coo of an incarnate God who loved me enough to sell his soul
on my behalf.
Who loved me enough to sell himself to sorrow.
There is no better melody.
I am enraptured by flowing snow that tell me sister that she is entwined in a beautiful
My father in law shot himself, but the coo of my incarnate Krishna, of my child Savior
whispers to me that he is at peace.
There is much sorrow to this world,
And my soul is often heavy,
And there is this sound, this sound of brotherhood that assures me, that my sister will
stop cutting herself and men will live in harmony.
This sound of Chrismas.
I tell you there is no greater glory than to know that he chose us,
He chose us for this moment, to know that Christmas is risen,
And it gives gifts unto men,
With the sound of a babies coo,
And a man’s sacrifice.
Copyright © Woodrow Lucas | Year Posted 2007