December 25th- The Christmas Wedding
Surrounded by seasonal silver bells
Scarlet passionate pink poinsettias sit
Entwined by Christmas and Wedding bliss
Frosty winter weather warmed up by:
Rings of “I Do!”
The eyes of Eve hide underneath a white veil
A bride walking down the misty mistletoe isle
Wondering why the majestic mustang moon sank without trace?
The aroma of pine trees idle into the death-defying fog
Fine firm decorated ribbons snug unopened gifts
Mistletoes wait above the tenable tint threshold
Kissing and Cheering
New Christmas Vows
In her hands, a beautiful bouquet
-Bridal flowers for the maids
Forsaken by dark dusky dullness wedding cloud
Flustering fragrance thicken the chestnut cold air
Ornaments endured dreary tears
Despising the drapes of fog
That covers the newly wed winter show
Harmony withdrew from that winter wonderland
A white gown, not meant to be
Christmas crushed by her greed
The unkind erratic earth exchanged her own silent vows
In a horrifying hoary haze
A heavy foggy breeze dropped in like debris,
Blowing her tiara dreams away
On this very exact Christmas Day
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Dressed for the
Holidays. A pure blanched
Vision awaits me so I reflect out loud.
Satin white angel hair snow, sleeps light on our street,
enriches the raw pines in a virginal base coat of flurries.
Families dressed for the holidays, lovely, quite the treat.
There are voices singing, travel soft on a passing breeze.
My senses are ablaze on this blessed winter day.
Children's faces bright red from play rekindle memories.
Remembering crafting sculptures, the element, like clay.
Snow fights, where we'd take refuge behind shrubberies
Lights energized, dance with the dark as their partner.
Colors, tints the nights complexion in a luminesce glow.
Smoke from pillow covered roofs make my heart flutter.
My days of improvised ice rinks, skating with the flow.
A holiday surrounded night ignites passions deep.
Making snow angels, pulled on a toboggan down my avenue,
Picking a frosted pine then wrapped and thrown into our Jeep.
Heading home with that years tree to dress and decorate anew.
But it is now and time to play in this our new frosting of snow.
With my two baby girls we use it to bake as if it were dough.
Life is different now, as an adult with my children, I go slow.
Savor every moment, their youth a gift, repeats like an echo.
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest Name: Winter Poems #1
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
It is Christmas Eve, all preparations for the day are done,
My hand grabs the doorknob as I step out to take a stroll,
On this peaceful night the village is silent, and I see no one,
Walking under the warm glow of a decorated streetlight pole.
I stand and gaze at the windows of the house next door,
Where a tree glows with bubble lights and tinsel strands,
Three stockings holding wishes, await over the fire's roar,
A scene straight from a dream, so wonderful and grand.
Glancing upwards, as the clouds glide across the moon,
Silver stars are out mingling with the drifting snowflakes,
A sight to enjoy here and now, for morning will be here soon,
A beautiful Christmas memory, deep in my heart to take.
Only one car comes up the street, as I walk along our lane,
Just a friendly snowman is there to greet me with a hello,
I stop, adjust his top hat, and reposition his pipe and cane,
This cold-hearted man has made a child smile, I know.
My ears lead me to the street corner where carolers sing,
As those old familiar notes drift towards me on the air,
More sounds seem to awaken as the bells distantly ring,
I felt nothing but a warming glow as I was standing there.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
I stood on the balcony one night,
The land was bathed in luminous light,
The air was filled with winter's chill,
Frost had covered the window sill.
I stared into the sky above,
My heart had swelled full of love,
The galaxy glowed with bright stars,
Lights so heavenly, from afar.
The night shone bright on every hill,
Yet, everything was quiet and still,
Through the valley no wind did blow,
The little village blanketed in snow.
What joy the Yule is going to bring,
At the break of dawn, the town will sing,
Making this, one eve to remember,
On one magical night of December.
But, in this fantasy land it is late,
And this seasonable panorama is great,
I want to take this long walk alone,
Through unchanging scenery, I wander from home.
I'll take a candle to light my way,
Upon the ice, I could walk until day,
I made it up a deep, glittering bank,
In the glistening snowflakes, my feet sank.
A million diamonds now covered the land,
I pulled my mittens on, over my hands,
The snow could never melt in this cold,
The Northern degrees of stories once told.
I will enjoy the winter as in days of old,
The still photographs of the past unfold,
A thermometer shows the drop of degrees,
The thaw of the snow I hope not to see.
Mirrored is my reflection along the river,
Quartz crystals of ice, makes me shiver,
Icicles hang from a cabin, near the woods,
Silently, wolves and elk in the forest, stood.
Reindeer and rabbits run through the snow,
A memorable sight in the lovely moon's glow,
An owl calls out from high in a tree,
Imagine all this, as a keepsake to see.
Tomorrow the snow will make the children sing,
To the hills, a toboggan they will bring,
Soon, we will hear his sleigh bells ring,
And, all the Christmas bells will be jingling!
Written by : Kelly Deschler
For Leonora Galinta's contest - Christmas Epic
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
holiday thoughts chill me
more so than this breeze
as it wraps me up
in winter's blanket
i want to be like the trees
colorless and bare
that weighs me down
i want to dance free
in the wind
like dead branches
in storm's fury
i'm snapping though
and it's only december
i can feel the weight
of winter's wrath
pulling me down
i am falling
more than a few inches deep
everything is turning white
within death's grasp
i am december's ending
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013
Snow sprinkles the ground
as delicate as sugar
crystallizing the exterior with a romantic heritage
only found in the heart of a child's imagination.
Like happiness it can melt in your hands,
and like happiness it can grow bitter like the ice you slip on
Forming miraculously to the curves of the earth
hugging till the land soaks in it's providence
white like the pages I battle with
Falling so passionately you'd think it was falling in love with the ground
And when it lands,
A blanket of perfection
glistening the season to a crisp
gently the sun arises
"there's no where to go today,
I'm just going to sit and enjoy the magic."
Copyright © Madison Caldwell | Year Posted 2013
He shivers as he steps on the porch,
The sharp icy air gives a certain scorch.
As he steps out from the arbors protection,
out to where there is no affection.
A month or so later,
the boy feels oh so much greater.
The sun shining down,
where there is no such thing as a frown.
But now there is a long process to get from season to season,
and you get tired of Winter's cold and sharp treason.
So as we walk through the steps, enjoy the end of Winter's blast,
just as you did when it began and you said "At last!"
As Winter comes joy fills the world,
as snowballs get thrown and hurled.
The cheer, the bliss begins with a snow,
however you come to remember and know,
that Winter lugs on and on until Spring.
Though not very easy,
we must try to enjoy the breezy and sneezy.
So as the snow melts into the dirt underneath,
people will put away festive décor, trees, and a wreath.
People then change from heavy bundles of clothes,
and on to short sleeves is where the style arose.
The used-to-be snowflakes turn now to dandelion seeds,
flying to and fro, and landing where it needs.
A pleasing fragrant of Honeysuckle, Jasmine,
awhile bumble bees come flying, trying to get in.
Low and behold Spring is in,
while once a year it begins again.
Copyright © savannah feeler | Year Posted 2015
Days of past and wintry times
The chill of night within my bones
Words that last and cling to rhyme
Crackling flames and yuletide tones
Birds of night sing one last song
Then capture flight to warmer lands
Where they shall stay all winter long
Until the season changes hands
Ribbons and bows beneath the tree
Neatly tied 'round gifts of love
Cookies and milk near Santa's seat
And the mistletoe hung
so high above
Hugs from friends who come to call
Children's faces filled with dreams
Good tidings and tinsel lining the walls
That share in my winter
with warm memories
Copyright © michael salazar | Year Posted 2015
This is the season when the forest has winter coat on
Where does frost smoke come from
Is it our angels morning yawn
Sunlight comes as little fanfares from the cello tones
Large pine trees decorated for Christmas joy
Gusts send thoughts from forest to sea
Everything slides into each other to a beating heart
Here's silence among nature sounds
Christmas is approaching .... once from the purest source
The time Jesus lay in the crib
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2014
As evenings dark began to close in
a little girl wipes her nose on her sleeve.
Listless and hungry she walks in the snow
a poor and lost soul, one cold New Year’s Eve.
Her dead mothers slippers were much to large,
they were flip flopping while crossing the street,
two wild carriages coming full speed
made her lose them, now she walks in bare feet.
She glances in windows as she walks by,
families eating and making good cheer,
her pains from hunger she tries to ignore,
she’s starving and freezing, poor little dear.
The north winds cold breeze keeps blowing her face
catches her breath as it blows back her hair.
She spots a dark alley where she can lay,
Tired and windblown she can no longer care.
She curls in a ball tucking frozen feet
carefully under her old blanket cloak,
she leans on the building, closing her eyes
now given up and her spirits are broke.
A shaggy old dog, nudges her gently
she hugs him and draws him close to her heart,
smiling she whispers, we’ll go together
when Jesus finds us, we’ll never more part
Then both of their eyes close, she bathes in dreams,
sitting at a fire, with food on the hearth.
When she awakes, a lady stands smiling,
pats the old dog saying, good boy old Barth.
The Little Match Girl by H.C. Anderson
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Contest: A Christmas Tale
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
chilly, an cold
windy, freezing, an white
shivering, bitter, an frost bites
gloves, long boots, an coats
snowmen, snow fights
Copyright © verlena dillard | Year Posted 2014
I wonder what Mack is brewing today
All I can do is lick the pot
He builds me up higher, my embers, they-
Are smiling cause they know they're hot
I stare at the red sofa he's sitting upon
And at the cat I've burned once or twice
What can I say? The thing knows its wrong
To sit by a fire with ice
I taste a small dripping of soup from above
My flames hiss in the deepest content
With my dancing shadows, I warm as a glove
As I wait for a new log's descent
Copyright © Juli- Michelle | Year Posted 2012
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 | Year Posted 2014
A land of ice and snow, a picture perfect postcard,
It is here I walk alone, lost in thought, of glories utter
Amazement surrounding me.
Draped across the pine branches of evergreen, frozen white
Lace glistens, in the December sun.
Raw wilderness lain exposed, on a canvas of bare natural beauty.
Freedom's unexplored world, lies outstretched before me,
In this my wintery wonderland.
Crisp is the wind, blowing against my skin, it sends
An icy chill downwards, but I notice not.
I'm a dreamer set adrift, engulfed by a poets
Yearning, to put words of inspiration, onto an empty page.
Heavy steps, crunch the layers texture beneath, nay
I'll remain still, soaking in this forest portrait.
Before these eyes, I'm unable to grasp everything,
There is to be seen, but ti’s a spiritual moment,
Of reflection, in clarity's vision.
The mountains breath, is a thin chilling mist,
A fine thin halo, placed upon rocky peaks majesty, by the
God's themselves, a majestic crowning of divine design.
Covenanting these exteriors hardened edge,
It gives a taste of harsh flavor, to this natural
Paradise left undiscovered.
The blue hews of the sky, are Chris-crossed by
The northern lights, aurora’s multicolored rainbows,
Dancing in the Alaskan horizon.
An echoing peace lives here, a quite tranquility,
Humanity has forgotten for progress.
It is a magical essence of solitude, that
Speaks to ones inner being, a purity in the
Meaning of existence.
Within my little cabin, I'll rest, beside the fire side,
Warming these aching bones.
But the mind remains alive and alert, sparked by
A higher powers kindling, a flame, ignited with imagination,
In this my wintery wonderland.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
The heaven is full of stars on a winter night
The moon shining so bright and lovely
Angels sing their song as beautifully as only angels can
They come down on earth to spread joy, pleasure and happiness
All the children in town and country
waiting in suspense for a special man
He is coming soon .... please be patient little child
Santa Claus has already decorated his red sled so nice
The moon is big and shining so bright and lovely
The heavens full of sparkling stars on a winter night
It is Christmas night on our earth
* The wish is old and yet so real.
A peaceful Christmas I wish for you !
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2012
On that Christmas eve I walked out alone
Passing sleeping fields glistening with snow
A lovely pristine carpet unmarked by man
In the midnight sky a mystic moon aglow
Here the quiet was deep and full of nature's joy
No man made sound , only the night bird's call
The scent of evergreen's on a gentle breeze
I walked until the snow began to gently fall
Reluctantly I turned my feet toward home
The city streets decked with garland and light
To face the madness of Christmas morning
But to recall this, and yes that other, silent night
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2014
Hollow is the chilling winds of October,
Frozen solid is the lunar moon that illuminates the night,
Fears lost kindred roam the ice fields of limbo,
Under the clarity of forbidden warmth, that has been
Shielded beyond the reach of the spiritually deprived,
Spirit wonders drifting amongst the snow packs,
These lost members of humanity, hanging on the sheered
Edge of mankind’s reality, the doomed stalkers whom
Wailing cries haunt, split the chilling silence of winter
By depth degree, in an eerie shroud of the forgotten and
Hatred’s chains of malice’s intent drag behind them, these
Ghosts of winter, tangled roots of ignorance are left intertwined
Mangled amongst the shades of life’s regrets, clanging linkages
Of harden steel, the bass metal of kindness tarnished by greed’s
Deist, and financial lust for profits high cost in flesh and bone.
Shadow figures placing their hands of frost, against the window
Pains that gleam with the flickering lights of the seasonal
Celebration called Christmas.
Harken this message my friends. is it not the time for
Forgiveness, let us then the living raise a toast of holiday cheer,
In these beings honor, for the harsh road hey tread is a lonely
Venue unto nowhere.
Live each day to the fullest, let the true meaning of Christmas
Swell within your heart and envelope thy soul, and just maybe
The ghosts of winter will rest at peace at last.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
He stood still in the chilling winter breeze, with a carrot
for a nose, two sticks for hands, two buttons for eyes, and six tiny
buttons for a mouth. During the day, children liked playing around him,
skating and dancing as they danced, sung, and screamed; the smell
of happiness was in the air. The snowman was the only one who wasn't
enjoying these playful moments, for he was only a pile of snow
that was put together, to look like a human.
One night, two days before Christmas,
the nasty-looking gingerbread man crept into the children's playing field; he was carrying a torch."I will melt you, and make you part of the icy floor!" he whispered. He was once a jolly man, who was cursed by a witch, because of stealing her gingerbread. All his friends and family abandoned him, for he looked strange. Since then, he hated anyone or anything that resembled happiness or smile. “Tomorrow the children will have a different look on their faces….” he thought to himself. An evil smile formed on his face.
As he stared to melt the snowman, Santa appeared out of nowhere, riding his flying reindeer that carried many gifts.
“What are you doing my friend?” he asked gingerbread man. “I have brought you a gift. It is a wishing coin!” The gingerbread man was so touched, that he wished that that the snowman was alive, so that he could know how it felt to be alive. He then tossed the coin into the air. The snowman then gradually started to move, and utter words. Surprisingly, the gingerbread man turned into a human once more. The witch’s curse was broken by love.
The Christmas tree lighting was reflecting on a lake; children were sharing gifts, as they sang Carols; the elves were sprinkling magical stardust in the air – it was Christmas after all! It was beautiful to see a man, once a gingerbread man, dancing with the snowman!
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
It's Christmas! Christmas!
That time of year
When people are filled...
With holiday cheer?
Yeah right. . .
I really do wish it were true
But people are people
Through and through
It's not about happiness anymore
Or in respect to what matters.
In reality it concerns what you get
And the food that is piled on the platters.
What has happened to the world of today?
Where is the 'loving and giving...'?
Now it is all just me, me, me.
Is this a nightmare? Or are we actually living.
Yep we might have a lot of things
Hang on! Let's add some more
It isn't the family that I'm expecting
But the postman knocking at the door.
When the topic turns to Christmas cheer
Lets go stuff our faces...
Break out all that lovely beer!
Chuck away those graces!
But... Suddenly the month is over
There go all the gifts you gave
Your debt payments crawl closer and closer
And you become a material slave.
Copyright © Annie De Lys | Year Posted 2012
Heavy and dank,
The tepid air steams
From the ground, confused and distorted.
The spectrum muted.
Sallow wind haunts, and
Cobalt tones eclipse memories of white.
Copyright © Thomas Kourkoulis | Year Posted 2015
winter has come
are woven in
have flocked to
they take rest in
shelter them from
rocks them to sleep
north wind, comes a
fall gently, on
waits for them at
are all hearts on
For the "Mussetle Train Contest:"
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Like joyous green of summer, my heart is singing filled
With you, while winter`s white is witness of good willed;
The glass works and the hot red wine spreading light:
Comforting carols “Silent Night” or “Brad Frumos”.
Comforting thoughts of good like good miners,
And cakes a lot with names of saints and sinners
Looking the heart of sweet cherries strudel under the sight
Of mother humming “Silent Night” or “Brad Frumos”.
Smoldering embers and feeling like hot chocolate
With scent of incense offered to every Christian mate
Under the new temptation of good and hope of right
Teaching of church on “Silent Night”,under “Brad Frumos”
The sacrifice of the pig, a ritual Symphony in red,
At the other side of modal logic, with wine and bread
And slaughtered pig and soured soups that might
Be prepared and savored on "Silent Night" ,near “Brad Frumos”
The aromatic smoke ascending, and dancing heavenly
Like our attempt to preserve and conserve not only
The clay and flash creature but also the inner light
And so many candles to see the Light on “Silent Night”...
Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012
I went walking in the silent and stillness of winter,
It had snowed softly on this Christmas night;
Homes glowed from deep within and sparkled bright,
A lonely snowflake kisses my cheek like a feather.
Wandering deserted town streets a solitary walker,
Park benches buried in the pure white snow;
Quietly an icy and frosty stream still ripples and flows,
And the shops are luminous in the town center.
At the church stained glass panes are welcoming,
The pristine snow lay on the steps in tranquility;
I bow my head in prayer recalling memories of family,
Whispering snowflakes fall on my hair blowing.
Faint a sound from something left near the church,
I approach the snow draped box, unsure;
And a mewing, mewing within the wet enclosure,
Then a small forlorn white kitten lurched.
I cuddled the kitten in my arms brushing off the snow,
A lonely girl and a lost kitten together this night;
While the snow is falling and falling in sheets of white,
And I call this kitten found * Christmas Snow *.
December 6, 2014
For the contest, Christmas Snow, Sponsor, Gail Angel Doyle
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2014
Can’t think about the Year that didn’t last
Can’t fight the time and how it passed so fast…
Voices were cheerful that night
Everyone was full of silver light
I heard the sounds but didn’t care
I couldn’t help but only think and stare…
I dreamed of love that possibly I’ll never share
And of life that was just like a fairytale.
In that second of complete despair
I saw the moon and realized it was all a dare
Then your voice whispered in my ear
Promising me all I needed to hear…
Copyright © Gergana Skywalker | Year Posted 2013
A Christmas Snow
The snow fell silently over night.
In the morning it lay glistening white.
I looked out my bedroom window to see the
snow piled as high as my knees.
Outside the trees were covered in snow,
even the branches were loaded low.
Then from the old pine tree the cardinal did appear
his magical chirping filling the air.
Nostalgic thoughts came rushing back to me.
This was Christmas as it used to be.
Copyright © Carol Johnston | Year Posted 2014
snow falls lightly
from the sky up above
soflty falling down
like the feather of a dove
each snow flake is different
like each one of us
falling to the ground
like snow often does
it's steals away breath
this brilliant thing
so pure and refreshing
like the songs angels sing
they sing for remembrance
of God and his sun
throwing down these white tokens
to say winter has begun
white is for birth
the birth of baby christ
white is for hope
that things are alright
each flake that falls
from the sky up above
is a gift from God
telling us we are loved
Copyright © Anne Hessler | Year Posted 2013
Comes the darkness on a graveyard, my lost child,
As winter’s tree bows from its iced arc, quivering
On last year's farewell of our young joy, of revelry;
Till arms drift … meeting your crystal star above.
For the Contest, A Christmas Memory
Sponsor: Broken Wings
By nette onclaud
~ Inspiration from my sister’s experience;
I was the godmother of her son~
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
It was a visit long overdue by most people’s standards. I had last seen my daughter two years prior to that during a whirlwind trip which she and her fiancé had made to Cape Town. I had an unexpected financial windfall and the money was burning a hole in my pocket. On the spur of the moment, I called my daughter and asked her to source accommodation for me in London over the Christmas season. A few days later, she called me back with the news that all the hotels had been booked up, save for the Ritz. I chuckled at the idea of having to spend my entire holiday budget on just one night at the Ritz. Then reason asserted itself and we put our heads together to come up with an alternative solution. I could hear her flatmate in the background, chipping in with her penny’s worth of advice. My daughter hung up and I was feeling down in the mouth about the plans for the trip being derailed in such a fashion. Later that evening, my daughter called back with the offer that if I did not object to sleeping on the settee in the lounge, I would be most welcome to stay with them at their London flat. I gladly accepted. She is a chef at a top restaurant and I was looking forward to gourmet meals prepared by her - including the Christmas turkey.
screeching seagulls dive
at sushi scraps on a plate -
the urchin watches
The evening of the booked flight to London, arrived. It was an uncomfortable hot day and I showered and dressed with only minutes to spare before my friend took me to the airport to book in the statuary two hours before international flight departures. At the airport everything was in chaos. We were given the unwelcome news that our flight had been cancelled. This was the third direct flight to London which had been cancelled that week due to London experiencing the worst weather and snow since records began in 1890! We were offered alternative flights and had to stand in queues for hours in order to procure a new airline ticket. Some people became very verbose and insisted on being granted passage on other airline carriers (at the cost of our local airline carrier).
I do not know whether it was due to the weather or the disappointment I was feeling, but when my turn came at last to book a new flight, I readily agreed to fly on Christmas Eve ( three days hence) to London. If I had been given time to reflect on this date, I would not have accepted it. Arriving in London on Christmas Day would have been disastrous: The tubes and other public transport would have been curtailed on Christmas Day and shops and other amenities would have been closed for the day. This I knew from previous trips to the UK over the festive season. To add insult to injury, taxis would have charged triple for cab fare and no amount of quibbling would have swayed them. I phoned my friend to collect me and when we got home, I poured a large glass of Merlot and retired on the sun lounger in the garden. It was *full moon that evening and it was almost worth missing the trip to witness its beauty. I left my bags in the hallway and retired early – after phoning my daughter and giving her an update on the status quo.
between moon flowers -
Six am the following morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing. Sleepily I took the call. It was the airline inquiring whether I could get to the airport by seven am. My friend was dancing up and down in agitation and already had the car out by the time I had brushed my teeth. I offered to pay any speeding fines which she might incur during our mad dash to get to the airport on time.
The flight was an additional service which was laid on to get the backlog of passengers to their desired destinations. Heathrow had given our pilots permission to proceed, hence the call to me that morning. We were a total of thirty six passengers on the Boeing 747 – it translated to two passengers per crew member. We were treated to five in flight movies which were current and could eat and drink as much as we wished to. By the time we landed in London at seven pm that evening, there was a festive spirit among us. A radio taxi (which my daughter had organised) was waiting to collect me at Heathrow airport. It was a chilly four degrees Celsius below zero and I was grateful for my leather coat and wool accessories.
steep steps to flat
shut out the bitter world -
a heart pounds
*The December 2010 lunar eclipse occurred from 5:27 to 11:06 UTC on December 21, coinciding with the date of the December solstice. It was visible in its entirety as a total lunar eclipse in North and South America, Iceland, Ireland, Britain and northern Scandinavia.
"bitter" means piercingly cold..... A term commonly used by Britishers...
"flat" means apartment. The Londoners I know, refer to it as just "flat" with no adj or possessive noun or article. Please see the About section for explanations regarding the 1ST AND LAST haiku.
Haibun(literally, haikai writings) is a prosi-metric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes the autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. ~ Wikipedia
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2012
A self-written poem begun in Christmas Time,
While it tasting the soup and looking for rhyme.
In the kitchen, neighbor with the quiet tomato paste,
The sorcerer's apprentice, a poet pretty well placed
Near Soups (ciorbe) with characteristic sour taste
With luminous face and much grace added the rest:
As he was sipping and tasting from raw and cooked.
His group had a passionate look at what was booked
For the dinner: These might be meat and vegetable soups.
They had to choose till the coming of the helping troops
For the pig`s sacrifice rite, old mixture of joy and grief
Under the hot and long debrief of the pleasant smell-thief
Tripe soup (ciorba de burta) hard prepared from beef,
And calf foot soup (ciorba de vitel), with green-gold leaf
Pickled soup (supa de moare) with pork and big rice;
But use the dice to decide between spice and allspice.
From the slaughtered pig the village` families prepare:
Carnati - sausages kept in special aromatic smoke
Of wet fir and oak burned at small fire as enjoyed by folk;
Caltabos - sausages made with liver sprinkled with beers;
Toba and piftie - dishes using pig's feet, head and ears
Suspended in aspic like a frozen symphony in red
After cups of plum brandy and before going the bed
Tochitura - pan-fried pork to bid it a farewell, twice
Served with mamaliga - palesta , and red wine with ice,
Or boiled wine with pepper and cinnamon against frost;
So that the pork can swim and the verse were glossed;
Piftie - inferior parts of the bashful pig, mainly the tail,
Feet and ears, kind of meal like taken from a fairytale
In which all are cooked and served in a form of gelatin
In this naturalist field, all the poets smile like Mr.Bean;
Jumari - small pieces of pig meat are fried and tumbled
Through various spices if after all, you are a little troubled
And may falter some poetical from the famous songs
Like "So, good people drink…" couples of diphthongs
Since Saturday to Thursday and make colorful the gray.
This poem was written in the Night of Tuesday to Friday.
( And later we`d find that the housewife had covered with it the pickles cucumbers jar.)
Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012