Boy, all I can say is one word, tradition.
It’s a mind set ingrained in our thoughts, and in our nation.
Although Christmas and Easter aren’t mentioned in the Holy Bible.
God has His traditions also, they are His Holy Festivals yet we continue to ignore them and trash our spiritual revival.
Today as so called holidays are in full swing, as Christians we pray.
That our nation realizes that our moral compass has lost God’s path in every way.
Man he’s always made excuses not wanting to listen to God he’s stubborn.
The devil is predominant in most people’s lives yet, he fails to listen to the Father, and His laws are easy but stern.
God says put no other God before me.
It’s not this writer speaking its God’s loving spirituality.
The Holy Bible is very clear about this.
Believing that the “Word” is the Son of God, Christ Jesus.
Christmas, Easter, are pagan holidays and it angers the Lord of Lords.
Remember all truths are in the Holy Bible see what Jesus says, He’s “The Word.”
Yes love and cheer is predominant this time of year.
Yet, “The Word” and what God says is very clear.
So on this coming Christmas pray that you see what the Father tells “Us”.
The evil one is still at large corrupting men, corrupting “The Word” our Savior Jesus.
God says in the Holy Bible let the Bible interpret God’s “Word” and to observe His Festivals.
Not those traditions set before man by the Evil Deceiver not just to love at yearly intervals.
The Holy Bible tells “Us” specifically that Jesus wasn’t born on this day.
Going back to the traditions of Babylon, see what the Bible says about this what we do and how we pray.
Just by not being in the Holy Bible these days should make “Us” truly see.
That God is God, His will be done, and by doing His laws and edicts wrong not observing His true Festivals corrupts our soul spiritually.
Copyright © Robert Ball
As I walk through the door, none looks my way
I was never important, not that many would say
I stand in the corner but nobody sees me
I speak but none turn, it’s the way it’s supposed to be.
The world looks different from the one’s I had seen
The evil still abounds, repeated daily, a bad scene
I speak but none even turns my way, Am I here?
A child comes to me his hand raised, in his eyes there are tears.
All this pain this sorrow, what the purpose can be
Hate, evil doing, never ceases to amaze me
More children come they pull at my hand
I gaze at the innocence and I understand
They smile and they laugh but others see us not
And yet the celebrations go on, but they all have forgot
I am here for them, all, the unhappy, unloved and deceased
They called me St Nicholas, but only think of the feast.
They made me a saint in the centuries long gone
Over prisoner’s and sailor’s and children every one
No one remembers except for the gifts on one day
But I looked after all, they made me this way
Nobody gives me a thought through out the year
But I collect all the children and wipe away their tears
We are the happy ones they all know to come to me
Not only on one day but through out the year you see.
There are stories and legends formed over the years
But if the belief were strong there would be fewer tears
I am the patron saint of so many causes
I am the man behind all the Santa clauses.
But remember my mission was to offer help to the needy
Not to feed all the senses of those that are greedy.
Remember I stand here, but no one sees me
I’m not given a thought, until they bring in the tree.
But I tried in my life to help those needy and wanting
Those that beatified me gave me a task that is daunting.
From the sailors to the innocent and all the children in fear
If you believe in me or not my I wish you a happy new year.
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl
One December Night
(Continuation to the End)
All that year Santa had hoped and had tried to find a child's love that would strongly abide.
But month after month he was given the boot. It didn't matter whether he showed magic or
gave them some loot. Many children were selfish. Not one gave a hoot.
Until one cold blizzard night, in a stormy plight, the frog rang the doorbell and walked
right on in. In the warmth of the house, after ousting the mouse, four children accepted the
frog for his good. It was a happy sight for the frog there that night. Yes, they showed him
great kindness and genuine love, the
spirit of Christmas shown down from above. The purest of love without expectations turned
the frog into Santa who promptly gave each one hugs. “I'll be back with my sleigh to leave
gifts on Christmas night. Thank you dear children for your gifts of love tonight. Leave me
some cookies. I shall eat no more bugs! He laughed as he juggled three gifts in the air.
Then, soon disappeared out of sight by the moonlight.
The children, still laughing and squealing with joy, had broken a spell put on Santa
last spring. And the mean old witch that had made him a frog, sat sadly outside all alone on
the log. She had made him a frog with a croak, out of tune. She wanted his voice instead of
her own. Christmas carols she had heard bring so much joy. She could not carry a tune for
one single song. She had hoped she could sing if she stole Santa's voice. But the love from
the children left her no choice. The spell had been broken by love's sweetest choice.
But while they were happily playing about, they noticed the wand from the brown bag lay
out. So they went to the witch and gave her a voice. And taught her that goodness over bad
is a choice. So together they played with the now happy witch. Who gave up her evil and to
goodness did switch. The gift of pure love and light in the world is a gift to all who give
heaven a whirl. For even the wickedest of wicked have some goodness in them. So,
encourage the right and to evil say, “Take a flight!” (And let God be the judge…)
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
December 5, 2009
Poetrysoup member's Contest Anything Goes!
Sponsored by: Constance La France (I took you at your word... It's a LONG story.)
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
I do not know?
T'was the night before Christmas
And all through the house not a single noise could
For, you see, the only one up
Had practise of being quiet
even when she's screaming inside
With hand over mouth,
and tears streaming down her face
She silently sobbed the night away
The only festive colour running from her wrists
The only thing she wanted for Christmas
Was to be dead.
Copyright © Teenage Frustrations