Best Lifechristmas Poems
We may not have a "White Christmas", yet joy remains the same
I find delight in viewing candles reflected on frosted panes
They remind me to be grateful for warmth and light so near
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
A scenic view of white smoke rising from the chimney tall
Dainty snow flakes falling as kids roll them into balls
They sail against blustery winds and I wonder how they dare!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
Sweet music heralding peace, urges hearts to spread some joy!
Displayed is a wooden Nativity Scene to greet you at the door
A glittering tree with twinkling stars stands proudly at the rear!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
Fresh pine garlands dress stair rails with large red velvet bows
The aroma of cinnamon and pine saturates, delighting one’s nose
While a cozy wood fireplace glows, inviting, daydream stares
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
The baking’s almost done; and tons of sweets are ensured
Though, there will not be any Christmas pudding this year, for sure
Mama’s been gone home a while, yet the many memories linger here
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
Whatever may happen in life, Christmas joy lives in the heart
A warm home and loving hearts have sufficed from the start
Much food, drinks and good conversation; lots of fun to share!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
“Less formal” is my style preferred, so do relax if you please
Sit on the floor, take off those shoes; dance or just be a tease
When you feel stuffed and need a nap, if you snore, have no fear!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
~*~
Note-Barlinnie Prison-is meant to be one of Britains toughest prisons.However,times
are changing and many impoverished criminals see it as a roof over their head with
no need to worry about where the next meal is coming from.
It's Christmas at Barlinnie but Jimmys free now on the streets.
He's homeless and bedraggled and ignored by friends he meets.
Its Christmas at Barlinnie,all the cons are getting fed.
Three course lunch,tea and mints,full breakfast and fried bread.
Jimmys in and out of jail,a life full of crime and sin.
Less money in his pocket now recession is kicking in.
With no aspirations,a convict, thief and liar.
His family have dis-owned him, all their dreams now lie in tatters.
As mollycoddled prisoners,tuck into their Christmas treats.
Jimmy's bones begin to freeze,it's minus fiveteen on the street.
As mollycoddled prisoners,feast on a turkey steak.
Jimmy's bellies empty,there is no food there on his plate.
Distant moon in observation,Jimmy sleeps in cardboard box.
Drunken revellers,slamming shutters,smell of hot-dogs,hungry fox.
Fearful moon now glaring,as the night turns into day.
Jimmy's dreaming of Barlinnie,who says that crime doesn't pay.
Like autumn leaves
the years had withered and blown away.
Her schoolgirl dreams had been set aside or
if appropriate wrapped in gay-patterned paper
and placed beneath the Christmas tree of her heart.
She awoke from dreamless sleep
and wondered who she was and where she was,
but the breathing of her husband and the ticking of the clock
reminded her of the person called ‘mother’ and ‘dear’.
Almost as a duty Christmas morn had come again.
Dad would visit today
and search her face for sadness,
for only he would notice if sparkling eyes had grown dim
and if her eyes, when blinking,
stayed closed a bit too long.
Amid a gaggle of restless children
she would nod a deferential nod
and inwardly long for the days when
Dad and daughter sailed the distant reaches
of their bright vivacious minds.
The once-a-year napkins
red and green with matching placemats
were ready for the throng; and the tree,
already bending low from weight of Christmas finery
would soon be gathered 'round.
For the children it was the perfect day,
but for her the conductor's podium was a lonely place.
She knew how fragile such happiness was;
more fragile, thought she,
than the hand blown bulbs upon the tree.
The children were awake!
Excited giggles and the tearing of wrapping paper
meant that Santa Claus had really come!
Yet Santa, tired from another hectic year,
simply smiled and closed her eyes.
© 2009 James Rasmusson
Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas
To all that who knock
But I won't answer the door
Till the face on this clock
Says tomorrow, tomorrow
And Christmas has passed
And I can sigh a relief
To this pain in the ass
So thanks for your time
And your Christmas good cheer
But what I need most is perfectly clear
Some peace and some quiet
Is all that I ask
So don't be like Christmas
A pain in the ass
Decorations are in shop windows
yuletide music is all we can hear.
Pretty lights shine in the town centre
making it feel like Christmas is here.
Plans are made for friends to meet
to celebrate with food and beer.
Neighbours are putting up trees
making it feel like Christmas is here.
Soldiers have come home on leave
kissing loved ones, shedding a tear.
People travel to be with families
making it feel like Christmas is here.
Children practice the nativity plays
we love so much this time of year.
Choirs can be heard singing carols
making it feel like Christmas is here.
Very soon the turkey will be cooking
for the family meal we hold so dear.
Excited children will open presents
then we’ll be saying ‘Christmas is here!’
There stands a tree, in the dark.
Out in the lot, cold and stark.
It's Christmas Eve in the city.
It's oddly shaped, kind of bent.
Branches bare of Ornament.
No colored lights twinkling pretty.
Comes a hush, while church bells ring.
Hear the choirs begin to sing,
as snow begins to fall gently.
A homeless man, shuffles past.
Hunched against winters blast.
Stops, for the shelter of the tree.
He hears the bells and the songs.
Raspily he sings along.
Smiling faintly, at childhood memories.
As snow settles on the boughs,
removes his cap, from his brow.
Places it atop the leaning tree.
To view his star, he steps back,
coughing deep as his lungs rack.
Life, has not treated him kindly.
He sits down beneath the tree,
pulls round his tattered coat closely.
Feeling cold, tired and hungry.
This old man, alone in life.
Fought in wars, lost his wife.
Wanders now, the streets, aimlessly.
He who never prayed before.
Never passed through a church door.
Tonight he whispers, reverently....
"Lord, I'm not the best of men."
"I've committed grievous sins."
"They've led me here, now, to what you see".
"There's no one else, I can blame."
"I must answer, for my own shame."
"I only ask, can you forgive me?"
As his eyes, begin to close,
he sees one last time, the tree decked in snow.
Swears, he hears Angels heavenly.
He no longer feels the weather.
He now feels light as a feather,
as he dreams, on his last Christmas Eve
Keep hold of your money for times that are lean
Keep hold of your money from people who are mean
Keep hold of your money so you can get by
Money this money that
Money for that Christmas wrap
Money makes a merry Christmas for some
If I had the money I would feed all who I could
If I had enough money I would do what I should
Pay all my bills and help people out
Money from my bank account has dwindled away slow
Money from my bank account took us to the show
Money from my bank account keeps us alive
I have worked for my money and paid my own way
I have worked for my money to pay where I stay
I have worked for my money and tried to save
With money we gamble and play games of chance
The money can leave through a hole in your pants
I would gamble my money but my kids do come first
I am a slave for money though it does enslave me
I am a slave for money though I try to break free
You are enslaved by money can you not see
We all need money in this day and age
Why does this money cause so much rage
Without enough money we cannot survive
I thought I heard some knocking
And went to check the door
It was very shocking
Almost dropped me to the floor
I had thought my family
Had forgotten about me
They all held me firmly
I cried and they could see
I had some tears of joy
On my Christmas eve
I gave each child a toy
All adults got a sleeve
My house was very full
I was happy to the core
And I was very thankful
To be alone no more
We all went to sleep
As it was Christmas eve
The children tried to weep
I told them Santa would just leave
They set out cookies and milk
For Santa on a plate
And a napkin made of silk
So he could wipe his face
We got up in the morning
To see what Santa left
The sun was barely dawning
Some children feel bereft
It was a Merry Christmas
A very happy sight
I will say Merry Christmas
To you with all my might