Best Gift Poems
It's how the stars are lit at night
and how the dew drops glisten
How evening shadows mock the light
and it's how the silence listens
From the gentle sway of trees
that bid such fond adieu
Songs in a summer breeze
a voice so clear, so true
The glory of such symmetry
so more than fills the eye
To the beauty of such poetry
this hopeful heart draws nigh
In natural peace all love is born
To live and thrive each blessed morn
03/14/2017
Poem Of The Week of 3/19/2017
Best New Poem of the Month 4/01/2017
Around my mom, I always felt my guilt
My conscience seem to always take her side
Some years ago, I gave her a new quilt
I still recall the tears of joy she cried
My gift of love to warm her nights with pride
It's hand sewn patches in a ring design
It showed up at my door after she died
Inside a plain brown box tied with used twine
And though there was no note, I read her mind
She knew the message sent would be received
A gift of love, to warm, when life's unkind
She once made quilts to give to those in need
Her gift of love with message plain to see
She knew the one in need, this time... was me.
by Daniel Turner
The mellifluous musical tones of the village bells
Echoing chimes over the cold snowcapped mountains
Both finding their way to people in the valley below
Christmas songs — let your spirit sing freely and loudly
Welcoming the Birth of Our Savior and Baby King
Who so charms the Angels on High and God Himself
On this night, The Star was so beautiful, clear, and shiny
Crisp and so crystal-bright, centered above and beyond
Reflecting now the Lord God’s most divine and holy light
There is real magic in the night air as Heaven rejoices aloud
The child and the infant’s divine soul breathe life now intently
Fulfilling truly God’s very promise and His hope to Mankind
Keep this Christmas spirit — share it with others near and far
Grace filled with good tidings as we dance on wings of joy
We all now celebrate in great happiness, love, and kindness
Christmas is forever — and you must never ever close this door
Faith always enters, carrying His guiding torch high and proud
And encouraging Man every step of the way on his long journey
Even in a simple cradle where the Baby Jesus so innocently lay
Heaven doth bathe His cradle with the warmest rays of divine light
Bespeaking the heavenly beauty, joy, and wonder of Our Savior
Amazing peace makes a lovely gift, I wish for all of us to have
As new life blossoms, wrapped in petals of an immaculate heart
God’s holy blessing, love, and intention are clear for all to see
That Holy Night the Angels entire sang mirthfully on Christmas Eve
Praising Almighty Lord God in Heaven on the birth of His only son
The Angels’ paeans echoed in their divine beauty across the Universe
To bring peace now, glowing with your love, is His divine intention
Rejoicing in God’s Greatest Gift to Mankind who was born in a manger
Destined to become Our Most Holy and Divine Savior — Amen! Amen!
Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 1, 2015 (Unrhymed Tercet)
A Poet's Gift
A poet writes to share a secret depth
Of feelings within their soulful breast.
They write to grasp onto immortality,
To be remembered beyond their death.
A poet shares emotions inked upon the
Page that cannot verbally be conveyed.
They dwell in a world of dreams, of dark
And light, of imagination, of metaphors,
Where heartbreak heaves and love believes.
Poets dwell where nature inspires, and
Longing desires may elevate or decimate.
They feel compelled to write day or night
From their innate state of expressiveness.
Music, dance, and art entwined, are all a part
Of creating that sonnet, free verse or rhyme
Which may capture hearts in belabored sigh,
Cause tears to well, the heart to swell, joy to
Bloom, cause lovers to swoon in blissful reverie.
Poetry...the greatest gift a poet yearns to share
With sensitivity, with their open heart laid bare.
7-23-19
A STRAND (1048) Poetry Contest N/A
Sponsor Brian Strand
A poet enters a private sanctuary,
A sacred place where the imagination
Dwells with a mélange of emotions
Conceived by aesthetic beauty,
Often divine and esoteric in nature;
That comprehensive longing to
Express through common language
That which is so vitally uncommon.
Words that seek to form a bridge
Between intellectual abstract thought
And the world of the inarticulate.
A way to express the depth of sorrow
While having it become a cathartic
Release, thereby relating to others
In commiseration and heartfelt empathy.
Poetry has the ability to help, to heal.
To reach souls enduring that same pain
May be a blessed gift poetry genuinely
Offers in a nonintrusive manner, helping
Lonely souls know they are not alone.
No-one escapes the loving light poetry sheds.
It dwells inside each of us, realized or not.
It teaches with simplicity, expands the mind,
Ingratiates itself without any effort when
Expressed with forethought and integrity.
It may stir emotions from the most stoic.
Speech itself, lives and breathes, and is poetic.
Acquiesce to that silent voice inside which
prevails upon the heart to be released in verse.
Poetry may elevate our spirit with such intensity
To generate a feeling akin to euphoric bliss.
Poets, honored in past glory with the status of Kings,
Now dwell in a world often misunderstood by the
Masses too busy to take the time to regard its worth.
How fortunate for the insightful who appreciate and
Embrace the ageless, immortal soul poetry provides.
They are blessed and will give birth to future poets.
© Connie Marcum Wong
I saw Love climb upon the wind
Heard the laughter in the breeze
Tasted lilacs, jasmine, and honeysuckle
With a turn and twist Love caressed my skin
The scent of dark chocolate filled my nose
A deep longing-hunger arose within me
Love was off again gathering the rain clouds
A shower of tears . . . refreshing
My parched soul drank deeply
Sweetness spread across my tongue
My body filled with Love’s offering
Now joyful tears fell from my eyes
A drowsiness overcame me and I slept
Love slipped into my dreams
Warm light cocooned me and filled my lungs
Bright colors danced upon my fantasies
An incredible energy pulsated throughout my body
Love took my hand and laughing -- we chased the light
Breathing hard I asked Love . . . this precious gift, why me? I am unworthy
Love answered: I Am the whisper in the wind
The Spirit of truth seeking and restoring . . . you are wholly loved
Of the mighty Kings -- Faith, Hope and Love
I Am the greatest . . . and you are worthy to Me
Go now and be Love . . . and know, I Am with you always
@ @ /
/ | \ / |/
/ | \/ |
/ \ / \
David Meade
12/04/2014
Live Generously
To you who have
never received a love letter ~
Here is the one I write to you
so you may hold it in your hands
and carry it next to your heart.
You are a kind soul and have bestowed love,
you've seen beauty where there were clouds
~ to you I offer gentleness as a bouquet.
My thoughts are genuine and caring,
my heart goes out to you because
you deserve the gift of tenderness.
You deserve to be told daily
how beautiful you are inside out and
how you make this world a better place.
AP: 2nd place 2025
POTD May 20, 2025
I am a wish, a prayer, from mortals lips
That reached heaven and touched God’s fingertips
And returned to earth wrapped in flesh and blood
A gift from God’s unconditional love
So love and cherish me as God does you
And guide and teach me well in all I do
And together, a garden we will grow
Filled with the fragrant beauty of the rose
And on the day I reach maturity
And feel the need like leaves to leave the tree
To show the world the colors that are me
Rejoice in all the beauty that you see
For I am your child the gift that God gave
No More than a wish and a prayer - away.
My mother's voice,
is the sweetest symphony -
when life becomes troublesome,
soothes like an orchestra of angels.
When there is darkness,
becomes a beacon of light,
guiding when tides are turbulent,
healing like a meticulous nurse.
My mother is my identity,
her love is my poetry,
yet the pen can never justify,
the magnificence of her mothering.
My mother is my most precious gift,
as affectionate as tranquil nature,
as delicate and fragrant like Jasmine,
an enchanted lullaby, only my heart feels.
Silent One
30 March 2019
Sunday 31 March, is mother's day here in the UK.
Nothing in this world as precious as a mother, I wish every mum
a beautiful day...
Poet- "You can't always get what you want, but sometimes what you get is better than what you wanted"
I was one of seven children
Raised in a tiny three-bedroom house
The rooms were so small
They could comfort a mouse
Always, at Christmas
We would cram 'round the tree
And I'd look for the presents
That were gift-wrapped for me
One special Christmas
Sorry, I can't remember the year
But I remember the present
That had shed me a tear
My dad who was away
Two months- offshore
Had sent me a letter
Just two weeks before
He mailed it from London
To our home in U.S.
But it must have got lost
Or tossed...in the mess
That's what I wanted most for Christmas
I couldn't think of anything better
Not a bike, not a toy, nor money
I just wanted to read my dad's letter
I recall my mom telling me
As I sat weeping on the floor
I have one last surprise, son
My Dad- (((WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR)))
Golden rays radiate from above
Energising the world with warmth and love
Illuminating our precious earth
Shining light on its true value and worth
Generating a healthy glow
One that thrives, breeds and grows
Flora and fauna bask in its rays
Grateful for the warmth of summer days
Brightening thoughts ,motivating minds
Creating positivity , negativity left behind
Days viewed in a more positive light
One of abundance and sheer delight
Mother Natures free gift to all on this earth
To enjoy, respect and remember its worth!
To till an arid desert
and make it bloom
To fashion with two hands
a palace of rooms
To drain a swamp
and grow there flowers
Man's enduring gift ~
his creative powers
Hold on to those moments
Of Spoken words of
Meaningful
Sincere
Love
Tomorrow might never
Become the present
© By Eve Roper
6/22/2015
.The first gift of Christmas was love
It was bestowed from above
It was given to all
to both rich and poor
to those who are strong
or who can easily fall
To dark,yellow,and white
To the ones less smart
or those who like first stars shine bright.
To muslims and catholics
buddhists and protestants
To believers and atheists
To the young and the old
To all humankind,to found and lost souls.
The first gift of christmas was love
It was bestowed from above
To those who show compassion
Forgiveness and their care
To those who receive blessings
and know the way to share
To those who look at others
with the warm eyes of a child
and to those who leave an empty space
for our little Jesus Christ.
The first gift of Christmas was love
It was bestowed from above
May We all search deeper
Of this gift be a keeper
May this love transmit joy
that kind of joy which last
That joy radiant on faces
That joy a heart embraces
That joy which comes to visit
and then remain with us.
Happy Christmas
to all my sweet friends
and your families
love you all
Charma.
It’s said that God bestows on us, each and every soul,
A special gift just meant for us, to make our lifetime whole.
How often I have thought about what gift was to be mine.
I waited for His one bequest to make my earth years shine.
I've envied some their striking looks, their figures lean and spare.
(This gift from God not always used in unison with prayer.)
I watched the athlete nimbly scale to heights till now unclimbed.
While others scour the ocean floor: new life there, still to find.
I've closed my eyes and listened to the maestro's ebb and flow.
Was lifted up; my heart was stirred; my spirit touched my soul.
Then too there is the gift of song; a greater gift than gold.
Was I to have this blessed prize, what other need I hold?
But none of these He chose for me; not one did He bestow.
Instead perhaps the gift of words, shall serve me where I go.
For without words I could not write of wonders I have seen:
Could not return to times gone by, or capture fleeting dreams.
How, lacking words could I describe the sun upon of the sea:
A mountain pass, a lake of glass, the joy of being free?
Words serve to tell of all that’s good, as well as all that’s bad.
They make the beauty come alive and hurt us with what’s sad.
And when the years have passed on by and dust is what was me:
The gift of words, put down in verse, remain for all to see.
Thoughts penned in ink and left behind, let what ‘was me’ live on.
The gift of words will still be here when other gifts are gone.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre