Christmas Dark Poems | Christmas Poems About Dark

These Christmas Dark poems are examples of Christmas poems about Dark. These are the best examples of Christmas Dark poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme |

A Stranger After Dark

I was sitting on the back porch ‘bout an hour after dark When I couldn’t help but notice a tiny pulsing spark. I thought it was a firefly – It had that kind of glow But I’d never seen the likes of it – what it was I didn’t know It flittered to and fro just like a firefly does I went into the backyard to determine what it was. Just as I approached the place I thought that it might be It flew right up and landed very close to me. Soon I realized it was no ordinary find. What happened next you won’t believe – it nearly blew my mind. A Lilliputian creature stepped from this tiny craft Right then and there I was aware of questions I should ask. He must have been aware of the fear he’d caused in me. I could see my hands were shakin’ -- never thought I’d be set free. His tiny voice became quite clear and in a most convincing tone He said, “My friend, be not afraid – I‘m here all alone.” He appeared to be confused a bit and why, I’ll never know But the fear that he had fostered was about to let me go. He began to tell his story; I let out a sigh I knew I’d better listen to this little guy. Now, he was small in stature; ‘bout a half inch, nothin’ more – Why, I believe that he could pass through the space beneath the door. . He then began to tell me – It must sound like a dream. He was here because of some wayward sunbeam. “I race Haley’s comet to the far side of the sun.” He said, “The race is always over before it has begun. There is a reason for these victories, you see My good ship Omnipresence, right here in front of me.” “Time and space,” He said. “Are always at my command. I can do more things with them than man can understand.” He said, “I spin the rings of Saturn, create firmament at will I flew a mission of atonement to a very special hill.” I asked, “Do you know Jesus? He died upon that hill.” He said, “When all things are settled, everybody will. I led three wise men to him that cold and wintry night The shepherds were there to witness a miraculous sight So you ask do I know Jesus? -- it fills me with such mirth -- This very craft was hidden there at the moment of His birth. I was there to hear the angels when they sang out on high. Yes, I’d say I know Jesus, That’s why I’ll never die.” Written By John Posey 12/18/12

Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Lyric |

Santa's Seeing Red

Santa’s Seeing Red

Late one evening up at the pole
Santa was watching TV
He shook his head as he started for bed
After seeing how people could be
All night long he tossed and turned
I guess he just couldn’t let go
He saw a sleigh and watched burn
As it sat there in the snow
When he woke He realize 
That Christmas was actually dead
He couldn’t sleep with those sugarplums 
Dancing inside his head, Now it’s said
      Santa’s seeing red

That next morning, Santa was warming
His hands by a fireside
Someone had set the toyshop a flame
But there was no one,  to blame in site
The elves then noticed the deer were gone
Someone must have let them go
But they never seemed to take noticed 
There were no tracks left in the snow
That same day they had a feast 
But not a single word was said
About were all the meat came from
That was stuffed inside the bread, with Christmas dead
      Santa’s seeing red

After dinner Santa stood up
And laid off all of his crew
He said the world was so screwed up
There was nothing He could do
He said that people hearts were colder
Much colder than the Arctic’s air
They're filled with greed, and blind to the needs 
Of poor people everywhere, 
So Father Christmas will be no more
For the little girls and little boys
They can say goodbye to all of those treats 
And all those fricken' toys,  Because instead
     Santa’s seeing red

So when the twenty-fifth rolls by
You can treat it like another day
Santa’s found a new hometown
And a different game to play
He now sits back upon a beach
With women and booze he likes
Forgetting about frozen toes
And all of those silent nights 
So don’t you pout and you better watch out
For that lump of coal instead
You did your part now add to your cart
All the things that I’ve just said, and where it’s lead
     To Santa’s seeing red

Some say that giving is more blessed
And better than to receive
Santa will put you to the test
And see what you believe
So pass a man who’s homeless
Without reaching for a little doe
For what you do might follow you 
No matter where you go
Now you’re sitting on Christmas eve
Just thinking about what I’ve said
You’ll all miss your shiny gifts
But not the people without bread,  so stay bed
         Cause Santa’s seeing red
So don’t look at the poor folks
Just look the other way
And Christ won’t be the only one
That’s missing on Christmas day, 
Just drink until you’re merry
And feast until you’re full
He knows that you’ve been naughty
Cause he’s not gullible 
So when you see him on the street
It’s a sight that you should dread
Cause he knows all your sins
And they're stored inside his head or so it’s said
         Santa’s seeing red

Now it’s time to anti up 
And dig into your stash
If you want him to stay quiet
Better cough up a little cash
And I think that you’ll remember
Christmas time every year
It’s time to give to Santa
Or live in constant fear
So you had better be real nice
And kick in a little bread
And you’ll better not think it twice
Or your reputation will be dead, like I said
Santa’s seeing red

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |


Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?

Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.

And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.

I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep. 

Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.

And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Choices of Dark and Light

The dark came upon us, and all we did shutter.
The light came upon us, and we basked in its’ glow.
We lite a light to keep it close, and remember the love it did throw.
When we traveled thru life’s valleys we held the light high.
When we reached the high mountains we forgot with a sigh.
But we carried it deep inside, to draw out if we were at risk.

The darkness befell others and off we did go.
To share our gift readily with others you know.
To pass the light gently was always our aim.
To love the world greatly, the world’s sadness to tame.
If the gift was not accepted, it was with deep sorrow and regret. 
For the world needs the light to find it’s way you can bet.

We are the candles and God is the light…
Disasters are darkness that we try to set right.
As Jesus remembers, so also must we.
For we conquer mountains with love, you do see.
And always there are others in need, like you and like me.

So harken to words both brave and yet true…
Help others around you, tho troubles do brew.
For the light is a blessing, and troubles not new.
They’re something we have just like others, it’s true.
With patience and work belief can begin.
Then a light will start shining all over again.

Peace and good will are the ribbons that hold us all tight.
Disasters and wars are the clouds that threaten the light.
But if together we stand forever you see.
A small glimpse of heaven forever will be.

Written 12-13-2013 

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |


Let's escape to space
& Leave the human race 

Space-love a new awesomeness
Forget the life & the gloominess

Kiss me, because I care
Even thought the life is unfair

I want to be a space-lover
Love you now, tomorrow & forever

Lest Live in a house made of stars
& drive spaceship instead of cars 

We feel the space-love in moon
I'll be yours, you'll be mine so soon

Galaxy, universe, stars & limitless
Screw the world, we found happiness.

Copyright © zineb laddioui | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |

An Inmates Dark Christmas

An Inmates Dark Christmas....
It was the first Christmas right after my momma passed away.
Any other Christmas I'd be making the best of the situation, but it was a very dark day!
It was a day I wanted to escape from, and nothing could distract my mind.
My body felt so numb, and the pain fed off of me being confined.

An Inmates Dark Christmas...
I laid on my bunk in a funk in that cold dark cell.
I was emotionally drunk, and that Christmas day was pure hell!
I pictured my momma in my minds eye, we were hanging decorations on the Christmas tree.
It was at that moment I wanted to die, for I just knew I would succomb to insanity!

An Inmates Dark Christmas...
That day I even contemplated suicide, for the pain and loneliness was just too much.
A bonified emotional homicide, for my momma I would never see or touch!
That Christmas I was a man with an empty shell, and a troubled soul.
A day of pure hell, and alone in that cell became my dark little hole.

An Inmates Dark Christmas...
I thought that day would never end, but then Christmas was gone.
No family or friend, for I was still terribly alone!
Christmas is still the hardest day of the year, but I manage to get by.
And although I still shed a tear, at least I no longer wanna die!

By Jimmy Matthew Anderson for Constance La Frances contest "Your Saddest Christmas 

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? |

Dark Christmas

3 am.
The alarm clock in my head wakes me with a 
silent clanging.
Outside, the rain is falling so hard. It sounds like someone's
trying to break into my room.
It's Christmas Day.
It might as well be August 25th because the conversation in my head has not changed
since then. "You are a piece of shit."
I think of things I need to worry about, things I've worried about since August 25th and way before that.
My anxiety runs through my veins like hot chemo.
I stagger to the living room and stare at the half-decorated Christmas tree ...
gold balls weighing down one side. Empty green takes up the other. Oh, there are two figurines of kittens that I bought at a garage sale in Staten Island in 1998.
God. 3:10 am.
A whole day to spend by myself.
Not a fake friend in sight today, with their banal conversations about picking up their laundry or meeting at the gym at whatever time to do arms or back.
Just as well; I get a blank stare from them when I want to talk about chasing happiness or being childless at 53.
The TV is my savior. It pulls me out of myself.
Bing Crosby comes on singing "White Christmas." He's dancing
with those two impossibly shiny bleached blondes. And they all have those white, almost blue American teeth -- not one out of place.
12 pm.
I wake up on the couch and "White Christmas" is still playing; it must be a marathon.
Outside, the rain has turned to snow and there are two messages on my phone -- from Christian friends inviting me to their houses for the day.
It's tough being a Buddhist on Christmas. OK, so I know, as the Buddhists say, everything is OK as long as I let it be OK.
But this is one day of the year I don't want to "be."
I consider whether to shower. It takes 10 minutes to decide. I let the hot water run down my back, and I don't know if it's burning from the water or my nerve endings.
I don't want to face Christmas - but I have decided to join life and go to Cory's to see his kids, stare at the tree and eat some turkey.
I decide to take a Xanax, and I stick one in my pocket as assurance.
Maybe some of this gloom will yet lift from my heart.

Copyright © don munro | Year Posted 2012

Details | Heroic Couplets |



His little dark street
Is at home in the silky cobweb;
His little dark street
Is only loud in the missionaries’ prayers,
It elicits a gaze in very few people,
It is but an uninvited guest to life.

The stationery boy hands out his beautiful fliers,
Like a messenger of his little dark street.
In his big clear eyes a tear is born,
Not as an accusation,
But as wonderful love,
His heart is young and full of hopes
That someday his big silent tear
Shall drop onto someone’s palm.
A new day is born in his wonderful spirit,
Perhaps somewhat cold and strange,
But a new day, still.
Oh powerful destiny, listen to your unloved son,
Wake up the sleeping star;
Wake up the sleeping sun;
Wake up the sleeping hearts of men,
So that the new day may be a friend to your unloved son.
In the inaudible shadows, he has his faithful listeners,
In death he has a faithful visitor,
His young beautiful eyes are more familiar with death than life.
When so many happy children gather around the city’s Christmas tree,
His dear young heart is loudly beating into the deaf nights,
Like a silver bell,
So that his small, dark home would be alight with a gaze.

When the wonderful northern wind brings
Happy children’s voices from afar,
Like a modest Christmas gift,
The stationery boy is building his little kingdom of happiness
In his vivid imagination,
His days and nights may be cold and dark,
But his imagination is bright and completely wonderful,
It shines in the darkness like an angel.
His silver bell is ringing beyond the heavenly dome.
If you want to show a real angel to your kid,
Hurry towards that little dark street,
And you might be lucky enough to see the stationery boy
Before he gets his silver wings.

©Walter William Safar

Copyright © Walter W. Safar | Year Posted 2011

Details | Lyric |

A Gray Christmas

The little boy sits by the christmas tree 
Full of light and color
Trying to figure out what all the colors are
He puts his little hands on the ornaments
Trying to see what they are
Feeling them
He steps back and falls over a present
He feels around the box trying to open it
Only seeing alittle 

Mean while on the phone..

his mom is talking to the doctor

"do you think he will be able to see by christmas?" she says
The doctor replies "theres no guarentees, he is 67 % blind, when we did the test with him, he described the color blue as a dark black, and a yellow as a light gray, your son only sees in black and white and im not sure if we can fix that. but we will do our best"

A breathe escapes from her lips as she turns and looks at her son
The doctor explains "his surgery is set for Dec. 7th. be here around 8 am and we will see what we can do, im trully sorry"
He hangs up.

Back in the living room

The boy stands up and walks over to his mom
"mom, have you seen the christmas lights?" he says

She replies "yes sweety i have."

He hugs her leg and says "are they black and white?"

She answers "no sweety" she points to a light bulb on the tree

"this one is blue" she smiles

He grabs the light bulb and repeats "this one is blue" and giggles

She lays him down in his bed as he quickly falls asleep

She sits down on the chair and thinks
"to me. because my son cannot see the beautiful lights and feel the joys of christmas, everything is gray for me. nothing will fill my empty heart"

There are no smiles, when everything is gray, when you cant see the colors of a bright day

Copyright © Orlin Collier | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |


Let's escape to space
& Leave the human race 

Space-love a new awesomeness
Forget the life & the gloominess

Kiss me, because I care
Even thought the life is unfair

I want to be a space-lover
Love you now, tomorrow & forever

Lest Live in a house made of stars
& drive spaceship instead of cars 

We feel the space-love in moon
I'll be yours, you'll be mine so soon

Galaxy, universe, stars & limitless
Screw the world, we found happiness.

Copyright © zineb laddioui | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Conversations with the Cat

Two questions to start.

Why do you call yourself, enlightened? And who enlightened you?


What if the Bible were a bit misleading? I mean it is already pretty vague in many areas, notions etc.


This is somewhat related. Everything is somewhat related. We call this God.

Did you know that the lion and the snake both represent Satan, and Jesus?


I ask the opening questions again.



It matters, translation. It affords errors which beget more, errors.


Lion Snake

Lion Snake


Son of Man? Or Son of God?

It matters.

The bronze serpent on a pole.

One must be very careful who one has faith in.


I am not the Messiah.

I think the Bible has been misinterpreted.

Lion Snake matters.

I call God father.

Jesus was a lamb.


Between a Jew and a Christian I am.

One group won't let me in basically and the other I am not sure of this messiah.

I follow God. God is my rock. That is what most Jews do too.

I ain't a Jew though.

I don't really want to be a Jew. I thought I did once. I don't.

Christians, I get them sometimes.

Jesus, he really did die for our sins. I mean he really died.

People are still trying to kill him.

Cat, that is crazy.

Copyright © Gun Poet | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |



I have long since lost Hope,
because my paths are so endlessly long and aimless,
as if sculpted out of my restless spirit
in the long nights of reverie.
You know, Lord... I used to have my Hope.
It was so nice to stand next to the Christmas tree
with my mother,
and look at its proud top,
where our silver star shone,
my favorite Hope. 
To me, a child who never decorated his own tree,
it was the biggest Christmas tree in the world,
and the brightest star beyond the heavenly dome.
Each night before Christmas we would return to the same place
with the same desire and faith,
until our terrible companions, the long, cold nights
have invoked death
and stolen my mother.
I am motionlessly standing and staring into this dark, cold night,
like an avenger yearning for revenge,
and a thin woman in rags is passing me by,
whispering warm words into a child's frozen ear.
The child is looking up with the same gaze
like I did when my mother used to show me the silver star,
whispering into my frozen ear
that someday I shall touch that silver star too,
silvering all the orphanages of this dark world.
Her warm words are still crossing my mind:
„Son, always stand on your toes and look up...
and you shall touch your star!“
My eyes have long since stopped sparkling
and they don't look up.
They used to be the big, bright eyes of a child,
that shone in the dark,
like two young embers that were just set afire,
but now... oh, now my eyes are but burnt out embers
in the squeezing fist of the cold world.

You know, Lord, how much I wanted to stand on my toes
and look up,
but life always threw me back to my knees.
I admit that I haven't been standing on my toes for a long time,
but I am not kneeling, either,
I am only looking down
into the dark reflections of people's characters,
and my Hope is once again so far away,
as if it's afraid of my faithful squire,
which is standing at the bottom of the silky net,
not like a flym
but like a master of many a fly big and small,
because Death has that justified purpose
to come for its flies regardless of their size.
I am not looking at death like a fugitive,
but a penitent man,
who wants just another chance.
How strange it is, Lord,
that even a man abandoned by Hope wants his chance.
Yes, Lord, I admit
that I would like to stand on my toes once more,
below the biggest Christmas tree in the world,
and touch our silver star.
 ©Walter William Safar


Copyright © Walter W. Safar | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Only Pleasure and Happiness in the silent night

On the lonely street
I hear nothing 
But the charolers on Christmas eve 
The cheerful sound fill up
The dark and quiet night
With pleasure and happiness

Copyright © Maylin Wongjarupun | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

A Wise, Dark Angel A Fairy Princess

A Wise, Dark Angel 
( A Fairy Princess )

Who has often told me –
who many times showed me –
my perceived value, my worth.
Who has made me see
who I am, where I’d be
in the world of thee.
Oh! if only you could be free
from all that keeps you - distant – from me.

B. J. “A” 2
December 8th 2007

Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |


Christmas is a busy time,
Commercialized therefore I am skint,
Cant afford to feed myself,
So its soggy sandwiches and mints.

The big day is one week away,
Yet I seem not to be excited,
For I cant wait to see the back of this year,
New Years I'll be delighted.

So many great people have been lost,
So many great people have been found,
But the pain etched in my memories,
Are for the ones laid to rest in the ground.

So all alone I wait for Christmas,
No hat upon my head,
What cheer it is, spread through the year,
None for me, as my friends are all dead.

Copyright © Sarah Clough | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |

The Dark Days of Christmas

2011 and Christmas isn't the same,
The silence and make belief joy
sends auspicious feelings far and nigh,
Revellers go through the emotions
just to avoid falling apart,
As news mongers spread doom and gloom,
Heralding the closing of schools,

The holidays have been reduced
to fear, angst and downsizing,
The dark days of Christmas has
everyone surmizing,

Spreading good wishes and cheer
may warm hearts everywhere,
The sentiments can bring hope,
to individuals who are unable
to cope,

Positive words and feelings 
last beyond Christmas Day,
They can give hope and faith
all throughout the year.

Copyright © Margeret Bailey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Merry Christmas World

A time of joy 
a time of piece
is not the only side
of this multifaceted world
turn the mirror
to see the pain
the tears, the fears
the lonelyness and depression
the sickness the dakness
light and dark
two warring sides
on one earth
what is dark and what is light?
hunger, war, DEATH
love, joy LIFE
the mirror relfects the light
leaving the darkness behind
 see what you want to see
not what is needed
needed to be known
the mirror moves back
to the side of the light
leaving the dark behind
say merry christmas world
maybe someday the time will come
when the mirror
doesn't need to hide the darkness
when it will reflect the light into the dark
and warm every corner of the world
our diamond in the rough
that will be polished one day
to become a glorious sun
obliterating darkness 
leaving only light
a day when we can say
and mean it
Merry Christmas World

Copyright © Anne Hessler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic |

Ms Poe's Dark X-Mas

My queen, dip your quill in blood and write me a Sonnet on this Christmas night
Santuary where there’re wilted rose buds; sit tell me a story of the demonic acolyte

Paint me a poetic picture in my mind’s eye, so the images make love to my brain
Obscure words I begin to identify encompass me like a raging hurricane!
Entice me with your verse and take my mind away this Christmas night.
Spiritual hell in this cell, is my curse and only you can feed my ravenous appetite

Descendant of Mr. Poe, you emerge from the shadow of death.
Abstract words setting my being aglow; taking my very breath!
Recite, “The Raven” to quick start my heart, to fill up the pages of my writing pad.
Keys open the door to my haven, in which lies Edgar Allen Poe, my granddad!

Xrays show a heart as black as coal
Macabre of poetic art corrupting my very soul!
Acrostic ode to Ms Poe on this eerie Christmas Night!
Santa can’t stomach her dark mode, for under the mistletoe lies the demonic acolyte!!

Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |


Sitting in my car
Christmas Eve loving from afar
The peoples hatred infect my veins 
Call by fall life brings the pain

The bird isn't happy without it's other
Alone in the night - it plucks it's feathers
The blood flows through the tainted greyness 
It's so Fu*king sad how circumstance makes us
Believe in a world where all is one and one is all...
You used my feathers to break your fall

Yet still I pull
Heart on the floor
Beating still but made a fool
No Blood flows from my gaping wound
Just a hole that still hurts
when the wind blows through
So with these feathers dotted along this empty cage
This year left me nothing but the end of another day

Addam Hughes
Christmas Eve 2010

Copyright © Addam Hughes | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

A Futuristic Christmas

Why, so much progress has been made from the days of my grandfather
Now, it already does look like we do live in the future
But what would it look like in fifty years, pray, do you wonder
Would Christmas be still a joy, a family getaway

Would the birth of Christ still be celebrated
Would faith still be there
Pray, would life be still so fair
Even if now, already, for some, life does be so unfair

See, I believe in some fifty years, the way people celebrate Christmas would change
Why, the whole setting of the Earth itself would change
Seas would cover the lands
Maybe life would be no more as dense as it is

Maybe by then aliens would have conquered Earth
Or maybe, humans would have colonized some other planet
Whichever, in some fifty years, only a blessed few would get to celebrate Christmas
Forgotten would be this grand event

Forgotten for, the world would have other cares
More important ones, like catering to humanity's survival
Yes indeed, how to stay alive if seas do be everywhere
How to celebrate freedom when aliens would have made of humans, slaves

How to celebrate Christmas when some of your family live on another planet
How to celebrate Christmas when food is scarce
When living has become so dangerous
When hoping would all of life, hoping of being by some way or another, saved

Why, I see Christmas as being someday a mere memory
As do be the Legends of ancient Egypt
Maybe, in some fifty years from now, a Christmas tree would be a mere drawing
Maybe Santa Claus would be unknown

Maybe in some fifty years from now,
Parents would have no money to buy their children gifts
Maybe, they would sit, thank the skies for allowing them to be together
And remember of the days when Christmas was a grand celebration

Maybe they would have to be fast
For the alien masters would be needing them
Maybe they would even have to celebrate in hiding
For the aliens would have other celebrations, other beliefs

Why, the future does be uncertain
Nothing does promise humanity a positive gain
Life can turn dark, as it can get better
Whichever, for now, let us be thankful for what life does bestow on us!

29 Nov 2015
Contest : A Futuristic Christmas

Copyright © Anoucheka Gangabissoon | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |

kiss of death

The Kiss of Death 

He was not a smart thief, nevertheless good at opening locks,
but often leaving finger prints behind, he was the one who 
ended up in prison…. And when he was told that in an empty 
villa where the owners had gone to Spain to avoid the cold,
he decided to go it alone. Breaking in, easy and the painting  
“The Kiss” by Munch, hung there on the wall. It got very cold 
and snowy, but he could not lit a fire, in case neighbours noticed
and pay a visit; there was no food in the house…. Three day later, 
driven by hunger and cold, he tucked the painting under his
 arm and went to his car which was snowed in and he didn´t
have a spade so he used the painting to clear the car. The picture
broke in half but still he thought it was valuable. 
Finally in the car he tried to start, but the battery was flat, tired 
from cold and hunger he fell in the longest sleep; when found
there was a broken, fake Munch painting by his side. 

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |

Parting from Christabel

My life, she did alter
And that, I wouldn’t falter.
So inspirational were her words all together,
As if she were a sister to Desiderata.
Of our difference , we tried to patch
But, alas!! there was always a latch.
I tried to keep her for a year and four,
But was chagrined when she couldn’t take it anymore

Thus we separated without tears
Though our hearts wept in distress.
I could have begged for her light
But was held back by my pride
Alas! alas! it cuts like a knife
And for days, I brought myself to starve.
Parting from her was like escaping from heaven,
and till date, haven’t found yet another haven.

It was a day of sorrow, the day we parted
Had chill as if slept without a blanket.
the saddest of all my days.
though we have parted in disgrace,
I still love you like in our youthful days

Copyright © Temajung Michael Tanjang | Year Posted 2014

Details | Cowboy |

Blue Moon Christmas (continued)

But she would not even read it – she knew what lay within—
A red rage toward her country now the fire that was her friend.
Yet just a few days later on a now black Christmas Eve—
Another knock was heard from a cowboy come home on leave.

And Jim Blue Moon stood on the porch with presents in one arm,
A proof against dark forces wishing all of us great harm. 
He said like Twain, news of his death was exaggerated—
And with smiles his wife helped him in, and they celebrated.

Yet in the haze of happiness and all her loving care,
Only now did Liz realize Blue’s left arm was not there.
But snatching life from death’s dark rider is a precious thing,
And nothing could dispel the joy their reunion would bring.  

Then came the new Christmas day, which now seemed so clear and bright—
Yet Blue held back - flexed his cold metal arm in morning light.
“I wonder if it was worth it?” Blue mumbled at the sight—
But Liz nodded and said: “Yes, you did the thing that was right.”  

Then they slowly opened presents - three united again—
Later dad and mom came over, and each rodeo friend.
“PBR’s done,” dad whispered in a voice like from the grave—
“Heck no!” Blue then replied, “I just lost the arm that I wave!” 

Sure enough, with prosthetic arm, Blue rode the bulls once more—
Till he volunteered to go back to that faraway shore.
Alone, Jim’s wife held their child and the inner one so new—
As a full, pale Christmas moon rose and slowly turned to blue. 

Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2006

Details | Quatrain |

Christmas Bay

 Dark clear waters of Christmas Bay
So peaceful it bring naught to say.
A near perfect sky; sunny Texas day
Reflects in dark waters of Christmas Bay.

Flying Fish leap and Sea-Gulls cry,
Where the Dolphins play and jump so high.
My little boat with my fishing poles sway,
And dance in dark waters of Christmas Bay.

Here is where tides rise and fall,
Where all my stress and cares grow small
They seems to just simply melt away
In dark waters of Christmas Bay.

Wind blows Mosquitoes to keep from the bite
As the Pelican flies and the Osprey cry
As Black-Skimmers dives to skim a wave.
Over dark waters of Christmas Bay.

Here the Stingray and Flounder cool.
And here the Sheephead and Red Fish school,
And Blue Crabs have so little to say,
Here in dark waters of Christmas Bay.

Shadows of clouds turn the water gray,
Where Gulf brine meets black gumbo clay.
A stiff Gulf breeze gives salt grass a nod
I find Christmas Bay to be a gift from God.

I send Heaven a prayer; as I do each day,
For few be the place to obtain such grace
Which begs my heart for a reason to stay,
As the clear dark waters of Christmas Bay.

Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |

Too Dark the Night

Too dark the night its blackness slipping in
   closing off the light;
 shutting out the world
   its hustle and bustle busyness.
Too cold the winter its harsh white rapture
   blanketing the earth;
 enter rest and peace
   chilling the soul.
Too long shorter days its short, brief encounters
   holding back love and all its memories;
 calling children to hope and dream
   in promises of happy holidays.
Too busy and enticing, its stressful fight to grasp the prize
   amidst the shoppers madness in the malls;
wrappings of Christmas Dreams
   to fulfill children's joys.
Too many celebrations rising invitations, finding happiness in gifts
   embracing without knowing the first Christmas;
birthing of a promised savior
  the wonder and beauty of the son of God,
Too bright the star glow its guiding shepherds and their flock
  with traveling wise men fro the east;
revealing the truth of the love of God
  His long time promise and hope 

Copyright © DM Babbit | Year Posted 2016

Details | Imagism |

Porcelain Angels

Santa Ana winds
blistered gardens
we pass
empty gravy boats
china white as bones
for silver bands
that tether us
to pasts
we don't remember
We are porcelain angels
on foil trees
Transparent ornaments
are amulets
against a future
we do not fear
We exchange giftless boxes
like communion
in a vacant church
In drought
there is no celebration
in the air

but I have too much to declare

Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017