Christmas Elegy Poems | Examples
These Christmas Elegy poems are examples of Elegy poems about Christmas. These are the best examples of Elegy Christmas poems written by international poets.
Clothes in a wardrobe still so neat
Your favourite fragrance makes it so complete
A task set without choice for me
To sort your things not so easily
The jacket you wore for colder times
And the hat for your head for sunnier climes
Are all hanging in their place
Ready for you to wear for your worldly face
I open the drawers in your bedside chest
Where there are things you treasured best
Here’s your watch still ticking away
And pictures of us on Christmas Day
I pack them up or give them away
Mementos of the life you left today
Each one a memory of you
A smile for you now to remember too.
© Paul Warren Poetry
A joy it is to see
planted in his honor
A Memorial Tree
Roots, memories of Milton
and a kind act for the ecosystem
Forget-Me-Nots shall be written
by your poetry pals, ‘till then
RIP
Lewis Milton Hankins
[Poet]
December 5, 1941 ~ December 22, 2022
Paris at Christmas
Paris at Christmas
city of lights for a week
streets decorated
Eiffel Tower lit
like a Christmas tree aglow
tourists staring up
shoppers bustling crowds
bells ring; children caroling
joy is everywhere
rosy-cheeked Santas
wrapping presents with ribbon
in department stores
light sprinkle of snow
sleigh ride through the Tuileries
wrapped tight in blankets
by L Milton Hankins
December 5, 2022
I Am Anaya comment: Feliz cumpleaños a ti! Belated, hope it was a nice
one Milton. Paris must be on your mind, your many memories of Paris
are joyous! 12/6/22
It was Milt's Birthday, and I could feel the joy in his poem, I felt it!
On the first day of Christmas
I litted a red candle for one
On the second day...
A white candle for him
On the third day...
A pink candle for her
In the succeeding days
I litted a candle for souls of the old days.
For twelve days I litted a candle
Twelve days I prayed
Twelve days all my candles stayed
Twelve graves I prayed for and stayed.
With your strong winds
Me and the twelve candles I litted
Gale you... you blew away!
"Don't stop praying and caring!
In time, prayers will all be answered...
in caring."
(Prosebite)
Christmas Eve;
mired in her melancholy,
wrapped in present reveries
that she alone may open,
though there'll be no new surprises,
only loss, and somber songs
to accompany the pictures of her son;
(forsaken by the light she's not quite
ready for exposure.)
Crows squawk a chorus in a leaden sky
and there's a sprinkling of snow
as mourners cluster black and white
like so many stoic penguins
round the gaping wound of earth.
The box so tragically small reverberates,
sealing the fate of one taken
too early from the fight.
Well-wishers scatter to their cars,
start up their cell phones, return
to Saturdays spent manicuring lawns
and custom fingernails.
Bereft of a daily blueprint,
her aching loss too new for time
to render any pleasure, still
she has her novels and her neighbors,
her crosswords and her cat
and a pain deep in her heart
for which there is no measure.
Christmas Eve;
mired in her melancholy,
wrapped in present reveries
that she alone may open,
though there'll be no new surprises,
only loss, and somber songs
to accompany the pictures of her son;
(forsaken by the light she's not quite
ready for exposure.)
Crows squawk a chorus in a leaden sky
and there's a sprinkling of snow
as mourners cluster black and white
like so many stoic penguins
round the gaping wound of earth.
The box so tragically small reverberates,
sealing the fate of one taken
too early from the fight.
Well-wishers scatter to their cars,
start up their cell phones, return
to Saturdays spent manicuring lawns
and custom fingernails.
Bereft of a daily blueprint,
her aching loss too new for time
to render any pleasure, still
she has her novels and her neighbors,
her crosswords and her cat
and a pain deep in her heart
for which there is no measure.
Winter freezes the heat of the year,
That shivers within our hearts, oh dear!
A season where Christmas celebrates
A time everyone liberates.
Friends of all rejoice and play on snow.
Forever friends none bothers even time is on go.
Tears on faces of every memorable moment,
Like snowflakes that pour heavily on earth below.
Love really is a powerful gift
But all alone it is without friendship.
Love of friends makes us lift
As if love is like the oceans so deep.
But like winter, all is unwell.
Sometimes friendship, on the dirt fell.
So comrade, I say unto you,
Love not only your allies but your foes too.
A good friend you are,
And my love will be with you even from afar.
Time will fly, old and new friends you will meet,
As cold as snow may seem, let your love for them feel the heat.
I thank you for the friendship we had.
Swear that I will forget it not.
Even fierce snowstorm on the days add,
Leave you I would dare not.
My friend as white as snow,
Wherever you go, let me follow.
Memories I won’t throw,
Stay in my heart you will, comrade on snow.
Christmas Eve;
mired in her melancholy,
wrapped in present reveries
that she alone may open,
though there'll be no new surprises,
only loss, and somber songs
to accompany the pictures of her son;
(forsaken by the light she's not quite
ready for exposure.)
Crows squawk a chorus in a leaden sky
and there's a sprinkling of snow
as mourners cluster black and white
like so many stoic penguins
round the gaping wound of earth.
The box so tragically small reverberates,
sealing the fate of one taken
too early from the fight.
Well-wishers scatter to their cars,
start up their cell phones, return
to Saturdays spent manicuring lawns
and custom fingernails.
Bereft of a daily blueprint,
her aching loss too new for time
to render any pleasure, still
she has her novels and her neighbors,
her crosswords and her cat
and a pain deep in her heart
for which there is no measure.
Christmas Eve;
mired in her melancholy,
wrapped in present reveries
that she alone may open,
though there'll be no new surprises,
only loss, and somber songs
to accompany the pictures of her son;
(forsaken by the light she's not quite
ready for exposure.)
Crows squawk a chorus in a leaden sky
and there's a sprinkling of snow
as mourners cluster black and white
like so many stoic penguins
round the gaping wound of earth.
The box so tragically small reverberates,
sealing the fate of one taken
too early from the fight.
Well-wishers scatter to their cars,
start up their cell phones, return
to Saturdays spent manicuring lawns
and custom fingernails.
Bereft of a daily blueprint,
her aching loss too new for time
to render any pleasure, still
she has her novels and her neighbors,
her crosswords and her cat
but a pain deep in her heart
for which there is no measure.
Christmas Eve;
mired in her melancholy,
wrapped in present reveries
that she alone may open,
though there'll be no new surprises,
only loss, and somber songs
to accompany the pictures of her son;
(forsaken by the light she's not quite
ready for exposure.)
Crows squawk a chorus in a leaden sky
and there's a sprinkling of snow
as mourners cluster black and white
like so many stoic penguins
round the gaping wound of earth.
The box so tragically small reverberates,
sealing the fate of one taken
too early from the fight.
Well-wishers scatter to their cars,
start up their cell phones, return
to Saturdays spent manicuring lawns
and custom fingernails.
Bereft of a daily blueprint,
her aching loss too new for time
to render any pleasure, still
she has her novels and her neighbors,
her crosswords and her cat
and a pain deep in her heart
for which there is no measure.
To eulogize your life when we have spent so many years apart
gives me comfort and memories of your precious passed life
You speak to me in my dreams and share images of a castle by the stream
it's walls shine of elegance a beauty of luster gold for your soul it now holds
My Mother, you are now a jewel of heaven, a gem in God's crown
as his loving arms hold you and his angels wings wrap around.
I know you sit in the room of hearts and some day you will take me in your arms,
while the angels play their harps like the soft swaying sound of a violin my soul
will then depart.
As I stroll to the waters edge of sadness and my reflection is looking back
I see my mothers wonderful smile our characteristics and mannerism
you blessed me as a child.
Tonight I will sleep and you will whisper in my ear all the stories
from the day that I was born, taking away my sadness and
giving me comfort to help me not to mourn.
So on Christmas morn when I awake from my dream that we shared
I will not see the lights from my Christmas tree
only the glow from the angel who has given me a life and a soul that is free.
T Reams 12/3/15 I miss you Mom
A truant blizzard's hurl allowed shadows hide
when the night was pale. And all the dark ravens yelled
as I buried my cat, last year, frozen and dead. That all
the lilies of in between, wailed of my Christmas eulogy.
For the contest, A Christmas Memory,
Sponsor, Broken Wings
Nov 21, 2015
From Franco Gonza
wE ARE ALL 1
jESUS IS NO FAKE
everything between
Heaven and earth
is entwined
thru water
by light
alright.
1. GOD
1. NAME
" I AM "
graydye
the god poet
for my dear friend
CHRISTMAS
June 17 2015
Death on Highway 12
For James Gilman, c. 1970
“Among your saints give rest, O Christ,
To the souls of your servants
In a place where there is no pain or sorrow or grief
But only life everlasting.
May his memory be eternal.”
Memorial Hymn of the Greek Orthodox Church
In the white bed
Between the lanes
Wrapped in a black overcoat
A boy lies dead.
In Christmas thoughts
Hurrying across the lanes
A hiss of air
A muffled noise
Some metal distorted
A thud
A fall
A last breath.
The lights on the Christmas tree
Dimmer tonight.
A life
A Dream
All memories to cling to dearly.
This story is told by the howling wind
And smudges on the snow
My heart is made of sorrow.
Amen.
Dad´s Army
On the Milky Way a black cloud appeared,
not dark as the night, but as a whole year
of winter nights put together and blended
with stygian thoughts of a suicidal dictator.
Then slowly the cloud began to dissipate,
became whispery as Fidel Castro´s beard.
…And there, on blue silk, a new born star,
unexciting at first but it grew stronger by
the galaxy minute- which last a bit longer
than on earth-, till it one day sparkled with
pride especially around Christmas.
The moment a new star is born an old star
lights up, like northern light, for so to fall
into perpetuity, and I shall not see my old
friend Clive Dunn again.
It's Christmas Eve.
Mired in her melancholy,
wrapped in present reveries
that she alone may open,
though there'll be no new surprises,
only loss, and somber songs
to accompany the pictures of her son;
forsaken by the light she's not quite
ready for exposure.
Crows squawk a chorus in a leaden sky
and there's a sprinkling of snow
as mourners cluster black and white
like so many stoic penguins
round the gaping wound of earth.
The box so tragically small reverberates,
sealing the fate of one taken
too early from the fight.
Well-wishers scatter to their cars,
restart their cell phones, return
to Saturdays spent manicuring lawns
and custom fingernails.
Bereft of a daily blueprint,
her aching loss too new for words
to render any pleasure, still
she has her novels and her neighbours,
her crosswords and her cat
but a pain deep in her heart
for which there is no measure.