Christmases Poems - Poems about Christmases

Tis time for Christmas, aches and all. We have a stake in a babe’s nativity - swaddled all in God’s creativity. Star-wonder. Moonlight. Crestfallen snow white. Buried beneath happiness are many who have fallen asleep. We must keep up traditions of light, merry and bright. Our teeth must glisten, and our tongues must tell tales, for a new generation to listen. We who’ve lived many Christmases must hang our tears in stockings, decorate our...

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With or without snow falling, there will be more Christmases, more joyful carols for me to sing: hoping peace will brighten all hearts! I'll give the shivering beggar a heavy coat to keep cozy and warm, and to the hungry coffee and donuts; there are rich people who care less; and there are poor who beat the drum: they will cry,...

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With or without snow... there will be more Christmases, more candles that glow, more carols for me to sing; going that peace brightens all hearts! I'll give the beggar, who's shivering, a warm coat and to the hungry coffee, bread and presents: nobody must cold and lonely: wouldn't Jesus be happy? There are rich people, and there are poor people; they all grieve, they all rejoice! The mean...

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A few reminders of Christmases past -- Broken ornaments we could not set free Once perfect tree-top angel, I’m aghast, Bulbs too large for this down-sized tree Children gone, only gifts for you and me. A metal tree stand that no longer works Moving furniture to make room for a tree, Stories of celebrations with their funny quirks The cat's tree fascination drove...

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Sad Christmases - Missing Lucy Our 'grand-baby' pet, Lucy Cat, at Christmas time, so unforeseen, each day neath the festive tree sat to guard the Nativity scene. She'd stare at the child in the hay and studied each figure beside. For sure, something drew...

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Christmases Past, on Mantel Hung Three stockings line the hearth, each one a "tail" of warm Christmas past, of love hand-knitted, chewed by pup! submitted by Susan Buchel for "Christmas Stockings Tribute" Contest. Written 11/6/2011 with thanks for prodding homespun memories!...

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Time spells out a harsh reflection, sometimes. Lifeless, pale... holes under your- knees... on your ankles, up and down your arms. Hate fills him now, oh, his- rage, my Brother Ronnie, says, "It isn't so!" Dad, He knows. I have no real- memories of- you, your- eyes, no- pictures, even how- you moved, nothing of- your character, smell, touch, voice, (((((((warmth.))))))) But yes I hold on to them, they are relevant, I know-they-are-still-there. They...

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