Christmas Light Verse Poems | Examples
These Christmas Light Verse poems are examples of Light Verse poems about Christmas. These are the best examples of Light Verse Christmas poems written by international poets.
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“The cookies? Not mine.
The milk? A setup.
The glitter footprints
leading straight to my bed?
Circumstantial.”
“I swear on the tinsel~
this whole naughty thing
is a frame job.”
“Check your naughty list again,
Santa—someone’s pulling your beard.”
Yours (wrongfully accused),
A Very Framed Elf
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The scale winks,
knowing its silence
is complicit.
Christmas is made
of butter and mercy~
a brief, sweet amnesty
where every cookie
is just a crumb of
Christmas joy.
The holiday rule is simple:
if no one sees you eat it,
the snow absorbs the evidence,
and midnight erases the calories~
When in doubt, remember
Christmas calories don’t count.
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Midnight shakes frost
from his whiskers~
Chester the squirrel
slips into the chimney,
claws click on brick,
tail a question mark
in the soot.
Inside his sack:
acorns wrapped in tinfoil,
stolen sprigs of holly,
a walnut cracked open
to show its golden heart.
He leaves them
in boots,
on windowsills,
behind the dog’s water bowl
(just to watch him sniff).
Dawn finds Chester
back in his oak,
giddy
with sugarplum
theft,
dreaming of next year~
Maybe I’ll learn to drive a sleigh.
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He started with tinsel~
because, well,
it was shiny.
Draped it like ivy,
a haphazard garland
stuck to bark
with stolen gum.
The ornaments came next:
acorn caps,
a button from someone’s coat,
a soda tab,
and one fragile,
forgotten robin’s eggshell
balanced precariously
on the highest twig.
His crowning touch?
A popcorn strand,
half-eaten,
strung with the dedication
of a creature who believes
snacks improve everything.
The tree tilted slightly
under the weight
of his zeal,
but oh!~
how it sparkled
in the December sun,
a wild, crooked work of art
only a squirrel
could call perfect.
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Midcentury ghost of tinsel past,
you stand so stiff,
so proud, so chrome~
a space-age sapling,
a disco-dome
of pink, gold, and electric blue
gyrating round your branches,
sharp as kitchen knives.
No scent of pine,
no needles found,
just astronauts’ suburban lives.
O artifice! O sleek machine!
spinning in your silver sheen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Porch becomes an altar of anticipation~
another box, another small salvation.
Who knew joy could arrive so flatly packaged,
wrapped in tape and mild neglect?
We whisper sweet nothings to the delivery app,
tracking miracles like digital wise men.
Out for delivery—the sacred hymn
of last-minute repentance.
Without Prime, we’d be marooned
in the land of sold out and backordered,
forced to gift IOUs and half-hearted hugs—
a truly unholy end to December.
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The squirrel perched on a frost-kissed branch,
tail twitching like a metronome,
declared himself no longer Stan~
but Prancer, king of winter’s throne.
His acorns? Merely fallen stars.
His nest? A sleigh in need of crew.
The oaks stood still, the wind polite,
while jays erupted into uproarious heckles.
Undeterred, Stan bound a tin-can harness
to three confused but loyal flying beetles,
then leapt—and for one dazzling moment,
the gutter was his midnight sky.
The soft melancholia of frost calls
As eyes poignant carry much reverie,
. I track my sighs, my tears from dim light
When longing fondles my threadbare sky --
Mama, Dad, and siblings appear as light
This precious grace blazing on Christmas time ;
While remaining kin whispers
Of past bliss __ pecan pies baked to thrill,
Gifts hidden from Dad's red sack __
The hope of winter's tender embrace
endures remnants from angst's prowl ...
yet kindly released through candles lit
For each beloved one 'neath our old tree.
.
Somehow, new stars roam to unfold
the treasure of calm and joyful musings-
Strengthened by sweet glory of
their light filtering through...a Yule ever warm.
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Midnight, and a single squirrel
with tiny boots and a postal satchel
scurries across power lines—
Santa’s freelance contractor,
paid in acorns and stale fruitcake.
He leaves a walnut for the widow,
a pinecone stuffed with stolen glitter,
and vanishes, tail twitching,
into the frozen yuletide hush.
Holiday celebrations now start
As Christmas carols chime with delight
Marking long yuletide thanksgiving feast
That vanquishes dearth's attack…
Yes, our family yearns for reunion-bliss
Blest with God's love until New Year comes.
Spent a day with my ex this Christmas season.
Both his hands were now green so I asked,
"what's the reason?"
Was he painting, a project, and they didn't come clean?
His pigment was tinted in a mossy green.
I touched a hand, pulled the skin, gently pinched.
He showed no pain, didn't even flinch.
Could he be turning into the Grinch?
He rolled up one pant leg and revealed a green knee
and said, "well, it's really not bothering me".
Attempting to hide my growing alarm, I said,
"better see your doctor, some thing is wrong."
A few days later he and his Doctor did meet.
It turned out to be dye from new unwashed
green sheets.
As Christmas draws near something's different this year,
At the North Pole all's quiet as can be.
Saint Nick and all of the elves he employs
Are online filling kids' wish lists electronically.
His wife, Mrs. Claus, is delighted because
Her jolly old husband's finally working from home
And delivering those toys to good girls and boys
Via UPS, FedEx, and Amazon drones.
...and Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays to all the good girls and boys on PS...
Farmer Zeb and his wife Henrietta were in love with their cows.
Put them into their Christmas card photo with their happy bull Sows.
Sows was something else, all puffed up, arrogant, haughty and stuff.
In every selfie that bovine was doing something randy and rough.
a golden retriever puppy would be perfect for a Christmas photo.
Let’s get one out of the pound and take some selfies.
The husband liked the idea in a way.
Can we keep him? He asked.
No.
Why not?
She said “because I said so.”
Thus, her husband kept the puppy
and got rid of the wife.
Neil Diamond said it is easier for me to sing I love you than to say it
He said it with The Christmas Album 1992, and we all felt it