Old Buck | + Follow Poet |
Rhyme | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

We Trim the Christian Tree Part 1

We Trim the “Christian” Tree. Part 1

Christmas time brings memories, racing in my head.
However: as I’m growin’ old, it comes with greater dread.
For shortly after Halloween, Before Thanksgiving Day.
Stores will show us “X-mas” wares, to make this season pay.

Jolly Santa and his sleigh. Bags of toys and nine reindeer.
Snowmen and candy canes, Mistletoe the young men cheer.
Homemade fudge & ginger cookies. Tasty pies & frosted cakes.
There’s one thing sets a part. The Tree that front stage takes.

It’s filled with shining lights, sparkling tinsel, thin glass balls.
Tiny elves, and Santa’s sleigh. Tied on safely, against a fall.
Much of this distracts for me, all this “stuff” now on my tree.
I’d rather as my grandkids came, Hints of Christ for all to see.

As the day now fast approaches and my plastic tree comes out
That has for Oh so many years, made “real tree” folk, often pout.
I’ll put away our tiny Rudolph, with his nose of shining red.
Try to focus at this season, on our precious Christ instead.

The Babes mom, Mary
The story here won’t be complete, without mention at whose feet.
This young babe will follow in. Without sin His life completes.
That eve, the young babe’s mom, heard songs His angels sang,
Who years from now, a loving Son, dying on a cross, will hang.

  Rough sawn planks 
Small rough sawn planks made up the cold hard manger.
While rough sawn beams, would bring our Christ, real danger.

A Gray Donkey  
A gray donkey bore His mom, to that stable, dark and cold.
To the place where He is born, a humble place, the stories told.
Then on thru Jerusalem’s gate. Our King, another donkey rides.
Carried to this fateful stage.  A trip from which, He did not hide.

 Angels
Angel’s were a part of this, they sang, as Shepherds kept.
Peace on Earth, Good will toward men, as the tiny baby slept.
Near the end, the Son of God, Could ten thousand angels call.
But for our God, it was now time, For His ‘only’ Son to fall.

  A Lamb  
Near that stable, a perfect lamb, borne on shepherds back,
Was brought along by them, to keep it safe from nights attack.
Years hence, another place, Another Lamb would pay the fee.
On Calvary’s Cross would die, to save all men. To set them free.

We’re near done adorning 
This reminder of a Season.
They may not notice “X-mas” spelling
Christmas spelled without the Reason.

We’ll pause now to catch our breathe
But times a wasting to finish here.
To tell the story of who and why,
This precious story is so dear.

to be cont:

Copyright © Old Buck | Year Posted 2015

Please Login to post a comment