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Best December Poems

Below are the all-time best December poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of december poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | December Poem |

The Invitation

December 25th-  The Christmas Wedding

Head-to-head,
Surrounded by seasonal silver bells
Scarlet passionate pink poinsettias sit
Foliage scenery 
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
Beautiful-
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
Desperately-
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

:-)
11-22-13


Details | December Poem |

December

it's december;
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
of everything
that weighs me down

i want to dance free
in the wind
not snap
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
grounding me

i am falling
blizzard-like
more than a few inches deep
everything is turning white
fading fast
within death's grasp
i am december's ending


Details | December Poem |

Still Life

Your house huddled under low mauve December dusk.
Negotiating the five ice-glazed steps, cautiously quiet,
silently twisting the key in the lock,
stealthy as a thief at midnight.
Invading your personal domain,
helpless secret-stealer, what other could I do?

A cold dissolution hung in the air;
a dead dust-light on once familiar belongings.
Switched to auto, my lonely hands
sorted a secret stair-cupboard stash:
lavender Spode and swirling Cloisonne.
Your must-speckled books had opened like orchids

but your ghost-gloves lay lifeless,
bereft of the blunt, practical hands.
Desolation looked out on the garden,
frost-frozen: the crumbling corpse wall,
the raspberry leaves clamped in their little ice-shells,
waiting for their summertime rubies, those jewels of July,

and waiting for you, your deft natural touch.
Silence laid its stilling hand on quotidian objects
as I laid your life away in boxes.
I didn't hear your loneliness
when it pushed at the door, insistently.
Seroxat and Liebfraumilch kept you company.

Why didn't you persist?
What triggered the retreat back into yourself?
All through the hushed dusk of December and sleet storms of January
I lay with your loss, under spattering rain;
my winter fragmented, its ice-prism shattered,
my actions mere string-jerkings of the puppeteer Grief.


Details | December Poem |

Moon bridge

The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.

I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.

In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
            the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
         wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.

How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face 
of eternities long time clock...

I ache with wanting, with need and passion
          it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
                              when I faced realities shock.

Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
             and make the broken whole?


I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me. 
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
                that so many leavings have left?

Cherish and love to honor and protect
             but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
     and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
      with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?

I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
      this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
   with the brush held in your hand

I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.


Details | December Poem |

Awaken

  Fever dreams and rusted scissors. There’s only two ways to look at this night. I awake only to have a gritty taste of bone dust in my throat. A reminder of events past. Sweating plagues, rebuilding strength for the hunt that’s to come. I can barely open my eyes. Thoughts of old cloud my judgment. I shouldn’t think these things, but the thoughts commence infernally. My glands are swollen. I know there’s an infection within, Viral?? Mental? I’ve seen these nightmares up close and have fed deep into their madness. It’s autumn now and yet I long to sit in the garden. Bleed upon the stone, Lost in lucid trance. No more memories, no more hauntings. I must purge these inside weaknesses to start anew. Arise structured forms, sway and move at my command for I am creator. This sickness shall fall and wither as the leaves of change. Skin, fall, wither so the insects will consume. Light dwelling within must surface and speak.  I no longer fear change, I embrace it.     

  Spread my ashes in the bloom of nature’s glow, for Memories on wings of a hymn shall be rebirth. Give power to symbols and names.  The children swarm down the swamp’s end, Awaiting the movement.  Unsung, Blood fills our lungs as we go. The whispers from the dead keep me up at night. There’s fear outside your door. That the devil may bite. Reside in my garden and drink deep the waters of my insanity.    
Buried within one’s self is the creator of existence. A god inside an animal. Acknowledgments bring growth. Watch it flourish. 


Details | December Poem |

Another Page in the History Books'

Thirty one days, now December is done,
But that also closes out two-thousand-and-one.
As we consign this year into history,
We should be sure to give God all the Glory'

This year began like almost every other,
But it didn't end the same.
A day in September changed lives all over;
God was still faithful- Praise his dear name'

We mourn and we pray, and share our grief,
Yet these events didn't take God by surprise.
He has met us and blessed us and given relief;
Love and compassion shown to the world's eyes.

But His mercies are new every morning;
Through Him we have no fear.
In a few short hours there will be dawning,
A fresh clean new year'

Praise more and worship more.
He knows what is best.
And we can trust Him to keep us,
Healthy, happy, and blessed'

As we turn another calendar page,
My prayer is for you.
To anticipate His returning,
Perhaps in two-thousand-and-two'

                                                                               Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.)
                                                                               December 30, 2001



Details | December Poem |

A Kiss Under the Mistletoe

Though the night was quite dark, Christmas candles were shining;
The firelight flamed by the tree:
From the ceiling was strung strands of green intertwining,
'Twas mistletoe cut from the lea.

In the room was assembled a party so cheerful,
Young couples so dashing and bright;
And they sang many songs, both the sweet and the tearful,
Or danced Christmas reels through the night.

When the night was advancing, the people disbanded,
Departing in pairs though the snow;
But one girl and her escort stayed late and were stranded
By snowflakes in gales that would blow.

So they sat by the fire, holding hands through the night;
They kissed 'neath the mistletoe green:
And the eyes of the other the prettiest sight,
They thought that they ever had seen.


{Written November 26, 2013}


Details | December Poem |

His Beauty Revealed on Christmas Day

As the snow falls around me, I marvel at God’s wholesome and worthy entity. The Lord, on his special day, has given me a gift so precious and special; He has opened my eyes to his wondrous glory. The Lord above all has allowed me to see the beauty in the smallest of things: The stars and moon at night, and the clouds and sun by day; The little trickles of freezing cold, yet clean, fresh, clear water Running down the mountainsides, quenching my insatiable thirst; The trees in all their grandeur, That provide my warmth when I gather their branches; The leaves and pine needles at my feet, Providing soft beds for me and all the forest creatures. Best of all of these, however, is the snow. The beautiful snow in which no two snowflakes are the same. The same biting cold, yet strangely comforting and fulfilling snow, In which brings forth light on the darkest of days. I must thank the all-loving God, who has bestowed upon me this glorious gift. Me, a pathetic excuse for a soldier who has run away From the sight of bloodshed because I cannot stand to fight another friend. Me, a coward who is now running from the law, And living solely in the forest for fear of being caught and hanged. Me, a God-believing man who has sinned greatly. But I have repented. I have asked God for forgiveness of my sins on Christmas Eve night, And He has replied by giving me snow on Christmas morning, showing me that I am not alone, and that I should not be afraid. And, by His grace, when all I have been seeing was darkness and despair, He opened me up to allow me to see the beauty and light in all his creation. “I praise You, oh glorious God, for giving me this most wonderful gift! I thank You for forgiving me, a sinner, of all my wrongdoings, and for giving me this awe-inspiring gift, for which I have done nothing to deserve! I exalt you on high, oh Lord, for all that you have done and given me, and will do for me and give me! I will love and praise you always! Amen.”


Details | December Poem |

December is lost

Without you next to me as I sleep, it’s like carbon monoxide in my lungs. I awake rotten and malnourished. Experiencing life as a ghost, everything is gray. Everything in ashes. Frail to the touch. Sickness resides in the majesty’s kingdom, yet I press on. Knowing you’re somewhere I must venture. I’ll find you this disfigurement of a waking life. My personal holocaust. The other side of the barbwire leads to you and I’ll rip myself limbless to bleed out into your soil. If only for a moment we’re together, than a moment shall be an eternity. My scared flesh tells tales of dreams foreseen. Golden rays of amber claim my vision, and I’ll never lose hope as I break my fists upon the stone walls of my oppression. With you in my heart I’ll survive the winter drudge. Towards the summer within your arms. Our love is timeless. Our love is God’s whispers.


Details | December Poem |

From our Deck-Front in December

From
our pink deck with a Jarra  cocktail table-set
We sit awaiting  sunset with an
 ‘Hawaiian absence’ of seagulls
As dusk comes  with violet echoes
across the spotted water,
from the resturaunts
 comes a wine hubbub - table- laughter

Mountains, marshmallowed
in occasional cloud on this still night- 
constant torchlight on quiet water
un-moving palms, paddle sounds

A swanky stingray drifts past

A shadowed water taxi 
and strangers who wave at us 


 Suzanne Delaney


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