Christmas Fate Poems

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...

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The sun it sat high and so sparkling bright.
The birds were a chorus, an eddy of flight.
I met an old man with a very old...

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Due to his callous disregard, he divided her intent
       Wanting to be loved was rapidly replaced
   ...

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Do you ever wonder?
I wonder about so many things.
Will it rain today?
Will it snow tomorrow?
Will I forget someone’s birthday?
Will I like this library book?
Will the...

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“the fate of winter moths”
sitting on the  stoop, concrete sodden with
the chill of late winter. the air
acquires a coolness like your first breath
after confessional....

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It’s not for the mere frail 
this cautionary tale 
of wicked yuletide fright 
Do come inside
and sit hearthside
on this dark and snowy night 

A chilling...

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I love to tell the story
For, Jesus to receive glory
That ,when I thought I was alive
I was working on a barge boat
Twenty two years ago...

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Mary when did your joy come most
For your child within not conceived of man
In your womb for nine months to be formed
The world was out...

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when I went through the living room they had turned the lights off on the tree, all but the star, sitting at the very top...

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Have you received your gift
It has been sent out to all
Stand still please don't run so swift
It will come in abundance spring and fall
On Christmas...

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Dear Frank,

I'm sending a little note,
A note in the wind...
May you find this
Like I found you...

It was nearly a year ago,
In early December,
When I stumbled...

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The cruelest of all villains lives on Mount Crumpit
for when it comes to Christmas, he says, "Dump it!"
He keeps trying to "Pooh pooh" that sacred...

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It was Christmas Eve and I was at the airport,
Not a soul in sight, almost deserted, it was 10.00 pm,
Only two hours before Christmas day,
Perhaps...

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Queen Bee

Buzz, buzz, buzz... 
Great Queen, I hear your song. 
Making honey with your workers... all night long. 
Sweet nectar of the forest, sweet liquid...

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I (a youthful sexagenarian)
can no longer quip being
a country boy at heart,
but me as urban cowboy,
I declare would never 
so fuhgeddaboudit dear reader
nothing 'cept bucolic...

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