Famous Short December Poems

Famous Short December Poems. Short December Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best December short poems

Love and Friendship  

 Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree --
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most contantly?
The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who wil call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.

Snow  

 Late December: my father and I
are going to New York, to the circus.

He holds me
on his shoulders in the bitter wind:
scraps of white paper
blow over the railroad ties.


My father liked
to stand like this, to hold me
so he couldn't see me.

I remember
staring straight ahead
into the world my father saw;
I was learning
to absorb its emptiness,
the heavy snow
not falling, whirling around us.

December 1919  

 Last night I heard your voice, mother,
The words you sang to me
When I, a little barefoot boy,
Knelt down against your knee.


And tears gushed from my heart, mother,
And passed beyond its wall,
But though the fountain reached my throat
The drops refused to fall.


'Tis ten years since you died, mother,
Just ten dark years of pain,
And oh, I only wish that I
Could weep just once again.

Incident  

 Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee;
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.


Now I was eight and very small,
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue, and called me, "Nigger.
"

I saw the whole of Balimore
From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there
That's all that I remember.

December 30  

 At 1:30 in the morning a fart 
smells like a marriage between
an avocado and a fish head.


I have to get out of bed
to write this down without
my glasses on.

December Night  

 The cold slope is standing in darkness
But the south of the trees is dry to the touch

The heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers
I came to watch these
White plants older at night
The oldest
Come first to the ruins

And I hear magpies kept awake by the moon
The water flows through its
Own fingers without end

Tonight once more
I find a single prayer and it is not for men

To Friends At Home  

 TO friends at home, the lone, the admired, the lost
The gracious old, the lovely young, to May
The fair, December the beloved,
These from my blue horizon and green isles,
These from this pinnacle of distances I,
The unforgetful, dedicate.

Soon Our Friends Perish  

 SOON our friends perish,
Soon all we cherish
Fades as days darken - goes as flowers go.

Soon in December
Over an ember,
Lonely we hearken, as loud winds blow.

for the naming of tara december 4th 2005  

 for the naming of tara
this bowl of joy
that her fruits of earth 
she’ll well employ

for the naming of tara
this bunch of flowers
that she bloom brightly
through her natural powers

for tbe naming of tara
this poem’s desire
that (in a full life)
she may kindly aspire

for the naming of tara
three gifts intent
on marking her day
with love and excitement

The Shield Of A Greeting  

 for J.
A.
, December 3, 1975


Ashes that survive the aftermath of fire
Bury the past bravely, retaining
Only those messages that are least decipherable
And therefore most desirable
To be sung by the bright-eyed few remaining
Voices of our frankly foolish choir.