Best Holiday Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Holiday poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of holiday poems written by PoetrySoup members
Search for Holiday poems, articles about Holiday poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Holiday poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
New Holiday Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Holiday poems are below this new poems list.
The better day is holiday
by Kayode, KAYOD5
Holiday of a Lifetime
by Delaney, Suzanne
Happy Holiday -- Happy Memorial Day
by Wolf, Gershon
by Didds, The
by Kantor, Jeff
A shopping holiday
by Smith, David
by lowe, millard
by Briggs, Denis
the happy holiday chocolate monster
by Cotton, Brian
The Holiday of My Muse
by Thomas, FJ
View all new Holiday Poems
The Best Holiday Poems
One leaf fell from a tall, tall tree
and subtly kissed gnarled roots beneath;
a lover’s kiss below sunned-sheath
of greenest leaves, a jubilee.
One spiraling leaf brought playful mirth
to sullen earth of trodden dirt.
A flight of hopeful shades of spring,
for hard, hard ground, an offering
One leaf dressed in a sparkling jade
glided with grace to green grass blades
and rested near a bubbling brook,
then waited for warm breeze that shook
its flirty skirt on green, green glade.
An arc of bright green canopy
warmed my heart in bluest mood,
and one leaf blew a kiss from you.
It twirled and pranced and floated by,
then with a touch it came to lie
green in my hand, a dear surprise.
Like emerald hills of Irish tales,
I marveled at how one leaf sailed
green In my hand that blue, blue day,
a kiss from you on Patty’s Day -
The gray clouds parted shining green,
a beauty like I’d never seen.
for Francine's Show Me the Green Contest, 3/18/15
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
'Twas the night before Christmas and their pages were bare
Not one word could they write, not one verse to declare
The Grinch had snuck in, and in one fell swoop
Had stolen the muses from poets on the "Soup"!
It was the thing that all poets dread
As visions of emptiness swirled in their heads
No syllables floated to fill in the gap
Some poets decided their contest to scrap!
Then on the blog page there arose such a chatter
Poets rushed over to see what was the matter
The blogger's avatar was just a red sash
She said she could get back the muses, for a large sum of cash
Many of the poets thought this was a trick
It was just a scheme to make money real quick
But in the blink of an eye another blogger came
He said that St. Nicholas was his real name!
Now Heidi, now Anne-Lise, now Andrea and Jan
They told us that St. Nicholas had a plan
To the realm of the Grinch where green snowflakes fall
St Nicholas would go and retrieve the muses for all!
In no time at all he took to the sky
And to the realm of the Grinch on his sleigh he did fly
As the Grinch lay sleeping the muses he withdrew
And to the Soup, again he flew
He delivered the muses to all the poets around
Poets started writing their words did abound
They wrote of angels and bright stars, and things that uplift
St. Nick had given them the muse as their gift
Then St. Nick called for all his reindeer
And soon he took off and flew out of there
But they heard him say, before he left the site
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good write!!
Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2017
As I walked into the banquet hall of the
Goodman’s Inn, the first thing that stood
out to me were the eyes of the people. I
felt as though I could actually see hope. Eyes
seemed to sparkle and everyone in the hall
sat talking to the others sitting around them
as they waited for the main course of the evening.
To understand this report we need to go back just
over a year ago when Lindsey Long won the 50
million dollar lottery. Apparently the multimillionaire
booked the Goodman’s Inn for December 24th through
to January 2nd of this year solely to house the homeless
over the Christmas holidays. Miss Long walked through
the streets herself over the last week inviting the
unfortunate homeless to come to the motel for these
festivities. Lindsey Long has not only provided the rooms
for this week, she also has clothed them with new
wardrobes and warm winter clothing and accessories.
Now as the people sat around the table they were
told Miss Long had an announcement. We all waited
to hear what this amazing lady had to say
and excitement filled the room. When this
beautiful young woman began to talk there
wasn’t one dry eye in the building. She told them
how she was not going to just send them back
on the street next week but how she had
built a new centre that would have sleeping
facilities and showers to accommodate all
of them. This new facility will be serving
three meals a day which will be prepared solely
from themselves on a voluntary bases.
The feeling in the Inn that night was pure joy
and as the people realized the impact of this
wonderful news, they all broke out singing
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. This is
Rhonda Reeds reporting for
The Good Newspaper.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Sponsor Mystic Rose
The Good Newspaper
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Friends come and go, but some have passed me by
as swiftly as the sun that lights my days.
They wave goodbye; I give a little sigh.
It seems I barely had them in my gaze.
Sweet friends I knew from youth. Where have you gone?
My bonds with some of you I felt were strong.
But journeys that we each embarked upon
divided us, and now I write this song.
Its lyrics tell the longings of my heart -
to see and be again with each dear friend
who knew me when and shared a special part
which cannot be retrieved nor has an end,
for memories are shadows cast by sun
which haunt me even when my days are done.
For Skat's Premiere Contest #6
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
Lovely lovely people
All I wish is to return again one day
31st October 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
Dressing the ancient stars amid their anthem weddings attire....
The universe anxiously anticipating these adorned galaxies of, anew ~
Bookplate bridesmaids, with such glittering eyes and broadening smiles
Quickly making their jubilant ways down, the amendable aisles
With a world beholding as, the best of man....
Hearkening hearts rejoicing so, very deeply inside; paradise
Standing at the altar aside, the most beautiful of glorious grooms ~
Wearing heavens luminous harvest moon colours; commencing halos
Visages, as a sparkling fireworks display afore the joys of an innocent, awestruck child....
Immaculate and pristine; these most mesmerizing of scenes
Cygnus, gathered here to unite this day, paladin unto the morn ~
Extenuatings pragmatic veil; crimsons silkened tides now torn
From, the final pages of such history and lore; a candid, jewel leavened door....
Prismatics band; lifting these velvet promises of an everlasting rainbows, I do ~
Sidereals notes of well-nigh chime; sweet music across the blue made skies
Church bells, reaching unto the furthest realms this, celebrations invitation
Come one come all; come as you were come as you are; the brightest star
Making their way through the constellations; jubilee, and all of creation ~
Coterie, disembarking at the depot from a waking moment; neverendings, final destination!?
...."The Wedding, at Dreamendon" ~
Note: Smile ~ "Merry Christmas Everyone; May It Be 'Beautiful & Bright; Love,'" John!:) ~
Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2010
On the eve of All Saints Day known as Halloween
We've a night where nothing is ever as it seems
Abraham, Martin and John hosted a grand ball
In heaven’s huge castle, a white marble town hall
Dancing and singing just like every other day
One old soul grew weary of celebrating this way
She found nothing special in the harps and trumpets
A more exciting venue she had come to covet
St. Peter partied, his gate was unattended
So to a room below the bored soul descended
A place where heavy metal was all the rave
Deadheads converged to stomp violently on graves
She was tempted to join in their revelry
As demons eyed her with curious envy
One grabbed her halo, howled when it burned his hands
Others confronted her with obscene demands
Only then did she recall escaping this place
When God sacrificed his son, mortal sin to erase
Although hands of the wicked tried to hold her down
She struggled, pushed forward and made her way uptown
Fearfully she cried while knocking on heaven’s gate
St. Peter found her in this emotional state:
“Why didn’t you learn to resist temptation,
During your tenuous Earthly incarnation?”
At a loss for an answer, she pled for mercy
And Peter felt inclined to deem her unworthy
But the Master heard her prayers, granted a reprieve
He blessed her and uttered, “Welcome home again, Eve.”
Her departure from Eden seemed so long ago
And now most certainly one thing she did know
She should have stuck with Adam when he first said, “No”
Instead of bobbing for apples with the demons below
* For Tony Brooks' “Halloween Hustle” contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
-Poetry Soup Kitchen-
Grab your aprons and spoon
Today we will not think of the stars and the moon,
Open your eyes, be grateful for all we have
Together we can paint the world
In any which way we desire
Let's give, live and celebrate the New Year
Poetry Soup Style
Happy New Year
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
One Halloween night when I was five
Rain pelted city streets, we stayed inside
Dad lit the Jack-o-lantern candle
Told us the tale of a famous vandal
One “Headless Horseman” in Sleepy Hollow
‘Twas Ichabod Crane he chose to follow
Crane ran breathlessly, was terrorized
(At this point my father’s eyes looked wild)
Thundering behind him through the forest
The hooves of a horse and a rider headless
Carrying a sword to strike Ichabod
(Dad grabbed a spatula, swung it like a rod)
Not just we children but our mother too
Gasped at the thought of Ichabod pursued
High winds cut off our electrical power
As in our kitchen three children cowered
Orange light from the pumpkin’s evil eyes
Showed Dad seemed to have dematerialized
The youngest, I felt something run through my hair
I screamed aloud in horror and despair
The lit pumpkin fell from table to floor
Darkness as I ran through the kitchen door
Leaping into bed, pulling up the sheets
Dad snuck into my room, whispered, “Trick or treat”
So if you think I am a drama queen
Please realize that it’s all in my genes
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.
The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.
Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!
I think it’s time for you to finally go face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!
“Oh my,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”
Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.
They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.
The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”
Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.
We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat.
Peter trembled and grew chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”
He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!
“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you both help me!”
Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.
For he ran across a guy named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!
Written by Andrea Dietrich and Jan Allison, for the
Halloween Co-Writes Poetry Contest of Diane Locksley
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
It's a nightmare down on Elm Street. Satan's waiting here at home.
Where's that little Freddy Krueger with his nails of sharpened chrome?
And that dearest Michael Myers, as he's always sure to call?
Halloween won't be so keen without some slashers in the hall.
They're all meeting up with Jason and the other demon spawn
to pay Old Scratch a visit, so I'll leave the porch light on.
I'm your sugar devil daddy and I'll tempt you if I can,
so now open up those goody bags, cause I'm your candy man.
Welcome, all you little zombies. Here, I've got some flesh for you!
It's in a candy wrapper and so much easier to chew.
Just hold out your plastic treat bag, and hold off eating me.
The junk I'm gonna give you tastes much better than my knee.
It's so loaded up with sugar, you'll be bouncing off the walls.
So go ahead and gorge yourselves and fill the bathroom stalls.
Kneel before the porcelain god or use the toilet sink.
You can always use the practice now, for later when you drink.
You can't take a piece of healthy fruit or any home-made treat.
The media have made damn sure it's only junk food that you'll eat.
So celebrate my holiday and consume till it's obscene.
Welcome into my domain... and Happy Halloween!
October 15, 2014
Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2014
If I had only one gift
I'd give it to you
In hopes, you pass it along
With a Smile
Sharing is Caring
The True Meaning :)
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
Peering at the radiating faces of happy families
So much joy emanates from well-to-do children’s sparkling eyes
Wish I could replace the grief, put smiles on the faces of my sons
Without a glimmer of hope even promises of warm meals would be lies
In the brown eyes of my sons, the same eyes their mother, my wife
Sadness the sacrifice, a courageous mother giving life
So great a zest for life she sacrificed to give her sons life
But now greed hath put her seed in peril and my world in strife
No “Help Wanted” signs in the windows of Main Street’s bustling stores
The aroma of fresh bread wafts tauntingly from the bakery
With my hands in pockets, finding not even loose change
Overcome with hunger and jealousy, should I resort to thievery?
Mind reeling, contemplating abating moral principals
Suddenly appear familiar brown eyes amid face so dear
The image of deceased wife, Spanish born eyes filled with tears
Speaking, "Abe, the Lord is gracious, walk until head is clear"
I follow the light in her warm eyes reflecting in glass windows
They lead me down the road to a park at the end of town
Dressed in ragged clothing, a man sits with a smile of peace
Breathing white puffs in frigid air, this gentle soul sees my frown
The message is plain, as my fears begin to clear
There is a greater depth in a soul of love well kept
The night is far spent; I kissed the hand of this gentle man
He smiled sweetly and said, "Lift up heavy head from dread"
I look up to see sun glistening on snow-laden pine boughs
It’s here, Christmas Day, and I’ve left my children alone all night
An ache in my heart compels me to race quickly back through town
Breathlessly, I reach my porch unprepared for a welcome sight
Hearing laughter within, I smell, yams, turkey and ham
I open my door, on the floor, presents piled high as well
Laughing with glee, sons kiss me, sparkle of brown eyes I see
Sparkling brown eyes, of Spanish descent, love is evident
“From where in the world did all this come,” I ask my sons
“Beautiful lady with Spanish brown eyes, stopped at our door
She said a strange thing, as on the floor our gifts were lain,
‘Tell Abe keep the faith; a mother's love is stronger than the grave.’
Her hugs and kisses, will be greatly missed! Who was she, Daddy?"
Thank you, Moses, for joining me and guiding me in this write. Merry Christmas, dear
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
Hello Ms. Johnson, I’m sure this sounds strange
our mutual friend, said you need a change.
She told me how hard you work every day,
come home to your children, no time for play.
Your husband left you without any money
and traded family, for tainted honey.
You work as a nurse, working hard for each dime,
yet nothing’s left over at holiday time.
A holiday spent solely enjoying life,
playing with your kids no worry and no strife.
this dream keeps you going, each and every day,
my dear Ms. Johnson I believe I have a way.
I have a house with an awesome ocean view
for two weeks Ms. Johnson, it belongs to you.
I’m going on a journey and would find it grand
if you could watch my house and enjoy my strand.
If you and your children would like to come here,
believe me Ms. Johnson you’ve nothing to fear.
When you call Janet, she’ll give you my number,
my wish for you is a little less cumber.
Sincerely Brenda Meier-Hans
Contest: My Wish For You
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Twas the night before Christmas
when I and my groom
finally found a motel
but with just one room.
My groom was in the bathroom -
leaving me alone-
so that he could douse himself
with some cheap cologne.
I - in my red negligee -
thought of bump and grind,
visions of his sugar plums
dancing in my mind.
Then a noise I heard outside
gave me such a fright!
who was out there in the snow
on our special night?
Opening our small room’s door,
I felt like a goof.
It was just an icicle
falling off the roof.
Then I felt a sudden breeze.
One unlucky bride!
As the door behind me shut,
I was locked outside.
When upon my motel door
I began to pound,
it was clear that my dear groom
did not hear a sound.
Right before my startled eyes,
what should then appear?
Someone dressed as Santa Claus,
filling me with fear!
His eyes, though not so cheery,
lit up, seeing me
as he crossed the street and came
I stood helpless, trembling in
scanty siren red
when an icicle fell down
clunking my poor head.
I revived in the ER,
thong still on my rump!
Underneath my bandage was
an enormous lump.
Thankfully my groom was there,
smelling of Old Spice.
But we’d have no chance to give
gifts naughty and nice.
At our room I later saw
Santa Claus was there -
that same guy who’d seen me in
Having seen my accident
he’d informed my groom
right before he then collapsed
stone drunk in our room.
Santa on our honeymoon
with cheeks rosy red,
(but not one “Merry Christmas”),
stole our wedding bed.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
W-hen the fullness of time had come, Jesus was born behind an Inn in a cave-like stable.
I-n the Inn there was no room for the Son of God, no room for the Saviour of men.
S-tar was shining so bright above the stable for the shepherds to find their way to Him.
E-ven angels proclaimed His birth to those shepherds "Unto you is born this day."
M-anger is where Mary and Joseph first laid him. It was filled with hay.
E-very animal there must have known that their Creator had come that day.
N-o one knew the depth of love God had, to give His Son to dwell among men.
S-ame star guided three kings from the Orient, who studied the stars and heavens.
T-hese wise men from the East came saying "Where is He that is born King"
I-n their hands they brought him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrr.
L-ike these three wise men, wise men still seek him today!
L-ove is the reason that God sent His only Begotton Son into the world to save us.
S-eeking for you and me, yes God was seeking for us because we had left Him.
E-veryone, yes, all we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone to his own way.
E-ach one has to make his on decision to follow Him or not to follow Him.
K-ing, born to be a King. King of the ages. King of the past. King of the future.
H-eaven, He came from Heaven to earth to show us the right way.
I-niquity, the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
M-elody, He gives us a sweet melody, we sing many songs of praise to Him.
T-ree, A Christmas tree, the love that Jesus had for us, to die on a tree.
O-nly one life and how soon it passes. Only in life can we accept His Love.
D-eliverance, He came from Heaven to preach deliverance to the captives.
A-cknowlege Him and accept Him. Behold now is the accepted time.
Y-ou, Yes, this Christmas Love was for You. Will You accept this love?
For Brian Strands Christmas Love contest.
Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009
~Do you Believe~
Here's the little twist in my parents home
Spreading fairy dust since I was 3 years old
The prancing and dancing before Christmas Eve
Made it hard to keep an eye on my mother
Who I've seen kiss Santa under the mistletoe
The cookies and warm milk sit on top of a note
Dear Santa, THANK YOU FOR SPREADING JOY!!!
The decorations and toys!
How, I treasured every magical moment
Until, I realized who left the presents under the tree
Once the Christmas Bell Fell
The fairy dust wore off leavening no magic behind
That year was a year I earned the "NAUGHTY" list
Even so, my parents continued with the white lie
Decorating and Pretending Santa was real
My bike on the list was missing that year
I refused to behave and believe in you know who?
The magic inside was gone and dead!
I was old enough to know it was all a lie
The cookies, the present, the Christmas Glee
The naughty list was barely an excuse,
Because, Parents worked hard all year long
Encouraging kids to be good in order to make the "NICE" list
Christmas is nothing more than a gimmick to every market
Using Christ and his birth as a reason to believe
BUT, the twist is not how I stop believing
The twist is a fizz, how I brought the magic back
Today, my kids sit and enjoy the presents under the tree
Baking and wrapping, hanging stockings by the chimney
The decorations and toys are worth every penny
Now, I'm the one hyper after eating a few cookies
Now listen, Kids listen well - Don't act surprised!
When you see mommy kissing Santa under the mistletoe
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
The magic came to Christmas Day when shepherds first were told,
When wise men brought their frankincense, their myrrh and gifts of gold,
When heaven opened wide its gates and angels came to sing;
For in a manger on the hay, lay Christ, the newborn king.
I found it first at Grandma's house, so many years ago,
When she prepared her Christmas treats and Grandpa seemed to glow.
The house was full of warmth and love, so sweet, so pure and real;
And what I cherish most of all, that Christmas magic feel.
It's in the music, on the air; just turn the dial to find
Inspiring songs that sing of peace, goodwill to all mankind.
They sing their praises unto God and spread their Christmas cheer,
And everywhere the songs are sung, they find an opened ear.
Its clamor, sparkle, warmth and hope, of which we try to write
In pretty lines of words and rhymes that never sound just right,
Can best be seen in children's eyes when they awake to see
What Santa Claus has brought and placed beneath the lighted tree.
The magic feel returns each year with warmth on coolish nights,
With memories steeped in seasons passed, in songs and blinking lights,
At Grandma's house, her Christmas treats, aromas rich and spiced;
To recognize the best in man, and honor Jesus Christ.
Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009
All year long he puts my heart on a shelf
No surprise I’d rather be by myself
If there’s no Valentine treat
From this worthless hunk of meat
He can go on making love to himself
Remember there’s an “I” in Valentine
So if no one’s around to say, “Be mine”
Just splurge – get a new hairdo
Party with an all-girl crew
Check out the divorce rate and say, “I’m fine”
*For Francine's Valentine Limerick contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
It was Christmas Eve, not a soul made a sound,
And not so much as a mouse could be found,
The children had hung their stockings on the hearth,
As a quiet, peacefulness gently fell upon the Earth,
My family were all asleep, their heads full of dream,
Of Santa's arrival with his eight reindeer team,
Father in his nightcap, slept soundly in bed,
And Mother in her nightgown of green and red,
When all of a sudden I heard a commotion,
And jumped out of bed with a curious notion,
I ran to the window and pulled open the curtain,
I thought it must be Santa Claus for certain,
New fallen snow shone bright below the moon,
Giving the illusion of daylight in mid afternoon,
I looked out my open window despite the cold,
When a sight met my eyes, wondrous to behold,
A lively, old gentleman aboard a great sleigh,
With eight flying reindeer leading the way,
As quick as a bolt of lightning out of the sky,
He called to each one as they rocketed by,
"Now, Donner! Now, Vixen! Now, Dasher and Dancer,
On, Cupid! On, Blitzen! On, Comet and Prancer,
Leap up to the wall and onto the rooftop,
Dash away all and let us make our first stop!"
They flew through the air with much ease,
Like dry autumn leaves on a sudden breeze,
The reindeer landed so smooth and swift,
Along with Santa and a sleigh full of gifts,
I heard their hoofs pawing upon the shingle,
And joyful laughter from that old Kris Kringle,
I ran downstairs to catch a glimpse of his face,
Just as he came down, out of the fireplace,
He was cloaked in red with a fur trimmed suit,
And covered in soot from his hat to his boot,
A large sack full of presents he carried along,
He opened it up as he hummed a Christmas song,
With much merriment his blue eyes twinkled,
His face was joyful, and yet somewhat wrinkled,
His cheeks were blushed like the berries in holly,
His snow white beard was long and quite jolly,
From his pipe came out a great puff of smoke,
He began his work and not a word he spoke,
Santa Claus was tall, with a belly quite round,
And his laughter was a most glorious sound,
I looked on with glee as a smile crossed my face,
When he approached and gave me a warm embrace,
Then, Santa placed several gifts beneath our tree,
Something for the children, and Father, and me,
He filled the stockings with sugarplums and a toy,
Which I know will delight my little girl and boy,
The midnight hour on the mantel clock chimed,
He turned, then back up the chimney he climbed,
With a whistle he signaled for his reindeer to go,
And away they flew with a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!,"
Before disappearing Santa exclaimed from his sleigh,
"To all a good night and a Happy Christmas Day!"
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Tears of joy streak down
My dust covered face
As I just wandered by and witnessed
The utmost glorious grace
Just three days ago
I watched them crucify
The son of God himself
The man called Jesus Christ
They poked him with their spears
Wet his tongue with a vinegar sponge
Nailed him to a tree
And taunted “you’re not God’s son.”
He hung there ‘til he died
From his side water did drop
They buried him in a tomb
Where today I had to stop
Past three days the door was covered
A large stone placed there that day
But, today as I walked by
An angel rolled it away
He had kept his promise
Only 3 days would he lay dead
To forgive us all our sins
And, I believed in what he said
He glided out of the tomb
As if floating in the air
“Do not be afraid” he said,
With gentle love, and care
He represents new life
And all the wounds he can heal
Is Easter day your resurrection?
Can Jesus Christ be your shield?
I weep to think of the pain
He endured for you and me
So he could take away our sins
And one day, set us free!
By: Miranda Lambert
For: Gwendolyn Rixs’ contest: What easter means to me
Copyright © Wandering Butterfly | Year Posted 2011
It is Christmas Eve, all preparations for the day are done,
My hand grabs the doorknob as I step out to take a stroll,
On this peaceful night the village is silent, and I see no one,
Walking under the warm glow of a decorated streetlight pole.
I stand and gaze at the windows of the house next door,
Where a tree glows with bubble lights and tinsel strands,
Three stockings holding wishes, await over the fire's roar,
A scene straight from a dream, so wonderful and grand.
Glancing upwards, as the clouds glide across the moon,
Silver stars are out mingling with the drifting snowflakes,
A sight to enjoy here and now, for morning will be here soon,
A beautiful Christmas memory, deep in my heart to take.
Only one car comes up the street, as I walk along our lane,
Just a friendly snowman is there to greet me with a hello,
I stop, adjust his top hat, and reposition his pipe and cane,
This cold-hearted man has made a child smile, I know.
My ears lead me to the street corner where carolers sing,
As those old familiar notes drift towards me on the air,
More sounds seem to awaken as the bells distantly ring,
I felt nothing but a warming glow as I was standing there.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Come oh come to harvest home ye thankful!
Rouse thy tongue for thy barns, so big and bountiful;
All grains and gains safely gathered in with ease.
For thy plenteous portion, oh praise the prince of peace.
Come ye thankful who dwells in God’s own field.
Worship Him whose wealth and wisdom we wield;
In tears and sorrow, wheat and tares together sown,
But in harvest’s hour, in joy we reap wholesome wheat alone.
To thee oh God of harvest, we thankful will come,
With harps and hymns to Thy holy harvest home;
Singing with Thy holy angels on the street of gold,
Gladly bowing down to Thee, Thou shepherd of the fold.
Copyright © Adeleke Adeite | Year Posted 2009
Voices choral, chimes of clay ring out
oh so merrily to a wintry sky
And earthen sounds once silent, still, now shout
in harmony and majesty, they cry.
A brightness sheers the air as metal sounds,
long cylinders of brass clink in the breeze
like childish laughter each fresh note abounds
a thankful note the past year to appease.
In churches, mosques and temples they sing
as clappers sound the tone around their rims
forged of metal, or blown in glass, they ring
resounding as the hours of this year dim.
Rejoice, rejoice a New Year has begun
Goodbye they toll and sing here comes the sun.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012
My piano sits alone a lot of days,
Waiting for someone to come along who plays.
Usually that someone is my son or me,
But lately since he's in college, it's been me, you see.
My piano knows when I am angry,
and lets me take out all my anger on the keys.
My piano knows when I am sad,
and lets me play it until I am glad.
My piano knows when I am in grief,
because of the songs I play, it's really beyond belief.
And of course my piano knows when I am happy,
I play songs of contentment and joy and lots are snappy.
I can be feeling blue and play a harmonious melody or two,
And in no time at all I will feel like new.
But my piano is loved best at Christmas time
Playing all the Christmas Carols and Christmas Chimes.
Songs of Jesus love for us and how He came to earth.
Songs of Angels singing and about His lowly birth.
Songs about three wisemen, my piano plays them all,
"White Christmas" "Blue Christmas" and songs played at the mall.
I love to play my piano for people to enjoy,
Elderly, mid-age, young folk, and every girl and boy.
But listen carefully dear hearts, take heed in what I say,
My piano knows that most of all, God gets the praise always!
Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009