Long Carols Poems
Long Carols Poems. Below are the most popular long Carols by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carols poems by poem length and keyword.
I went out back
And sat
On a stone bench
To watch the sun set
Just before 5:00 on Winter Solstice
The cold stung the skin of my Levis
Then fit the back of my ass and legs
Like a saddle of numb
There’s no frost line in the ground
So my dog’s paws were dark as leather gloves
His golden face and pink tongue
Speckled black from chasing his ball
Through the mud
Steam puffing
From his panting mouth
Like a choo choo train
Climbing a hill
Fogs up my glasses
The Engineer
As he begs for another toss
Past
The fallen autumn limbs
Stabbing the ground
Like reindeer antlers at the end of rut
Dropped off from their master’s heads
Their use for the year
Abandoned
As the night pours over
The vanilla day
Like a hot fudge sundae
The red coat of Santa
A shiny cherry
Lit
Up there
On our roof top
Ho ho hoing
To the longest night of the year
It’s time for me to go inside
Warm up by a fire
Let my dog rest his head in my lap
As we listen to the old crooners
Wind down the world with Christmas carols
So very very slowly.
Christmas, as I recall, felt magical;
happily hanging up our empty socks.
Under the Christmas tree, where piles of gifts,
and we'd try to guess what was in each box.
Our entire house would smell of gingerbread,
pumpkin pies, cookies, and sweet-scented pine.
Waking to the smell of Christmas turkey,
we'd open our gifts: I'd rip open mine.
While Mom was busy preparing dinner,
Dad would take a nap on the Chesterfield.
Christmas carols played on the radio,
and home did not feel like a battlefield.
These precious moments in time tend to last,
childhood memories of a Christmas past.
Blanket of snow....
Outside the air is crisp and clean
The tress are pristine white
and a blanket of snow covered the lawn.
In the distance the sounds of machines
They're plowing the roads before night.
Inside we sit snuggled together
Sipping hot cocoa with marshmallows
While enjoying the warmth of the fire
Knowing this is just the beginning of winter
We still have a long time to go.
There will be days of fun ahead
of catching snowflakes on the tongue
and seeing the frost form on the glass
of sliding down hill with the sleds.
snowmen to make, and carols to be sung.
Bonnie Hollywood-Cutts
I've been jealous of Time,
sharing it with the foot steps of Days
feeding it to the appetite of Age,
Possessive of unbuyable beauty
that roams reckless within a creation fenceless,
senseless ownership, owning only the yawns of yesterdays,
jealous of glory as it ransacks the wrinkles of haughty heroism
hungering for more rumor in the religion of rhapsody,
following it throughout the carols & catacombs of hearts greedy,
feeling the charm of challenge to earn my woman's wishes,
jealous of commitment that sits silent in the center of attraction,
Jealousy is the General of my affection's arsenal,
a strategist that tells me love is worth a crusade,
taught me not to surrender to simple circumstance,
that my woman's warmth puts my skills on parade,
relentless progress is the ambition of Jealousy,
a must be aptitude, a must see attitude,
jealousy is that drum beat in my bravery,
war paints the face of my fears,
sharpens the claws of my soul,
a song that stammers not on success,
a lyrical miracle,
should not lose, could not lose, will not lose -
J.A.B.
In a land where snow should fall,
On a Christmas day, unusual,
A tale unfolds, both strange and bright,
Under sunny skies, a curious light.
A beautiful day, like any other,
Yet, sunshine felt like a bother.
For I, who had fled to distant lands,
Far from loved ones, in distant sands.
No stockings hung, no tree adorned,
No carols sung, no gifts adorned.
A solitary figure, a soul in flight,
Away from joy, on that holy night.
Not because of mischief or any misdeed,
For A's adorned my academic creed.
Well-behaved, yet far from home,
In solitude, I chose to roam.
Merry wishes echoed from afar,
Yet, I had to be the wishing star.
No greetings came unless I sent,
A bittersweet moment of discontent.
A package arrived, a gift to hold,
A gray shirt, pants, and shoes of bold.
Unusual, yet a token of grace,
In the absence of a familiar embrace.
Oh, how this Christmas, a paradox,
A day of glory, in unconventional stocks.
Not what I sought, nor what I craved,
Yet, gratitude in my heart engraved.
For in tradition, my focus lies,
Not on Santa's gifts or worldly ties.
But on a babe, in a manger laid,
The Savior born, a debt repaid.
Though distant, my heart finds peace,
In the story that will never cease.
A birth divine, a love so true,
Christmas is Christ, and Christ is you.
No sadness lingers, no tear is shed,
For in Christ's love, my soul is fed.
So, let the sun shine on this day,
In its own way, a glorious display.
In the absence of what I thought I'd miss,
I find joy in the Savior's bliss.
A Christmas, unlike any before,
A tale of grace, forevermore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a wooden body with steady onyx eyes
fixed through the warm, festive glow of
glimmer-strung branches heavy with ornaments
crimson ribbons curling like frozen candy canes
stalwart he stands, gray musket upright
at rigid attention guarding wrapped promises~
stern eyes track the vintage train’s circuit
buzzing relentlessly round tree-rooted tracks.
devoted guardian rooted in pine needles
preserving whimsy’s last spark in tinsel-strewn shadows~
protector of wide-eyed wonder when snow silences streets
keeper of memory’s embers — cinnamon, carols, and cold cheeks.
no mouse king approaches, no cracked walnut threatens;
yet, still he stands watching over Christmases present and past~
a soldier of sentiment safeguarding the fragile, the glitter,
the longing, the ache in the throat when the last bulb dims.
He was a tall, handsome, stocky, stately, well-known forest guy.
They called him Christmas Moose, and I often wondered why.
It was not near December, so it made no sense to me.
I had not lived here long, so the stories were not yet to be.
I had asked a chipmunk, squirrel, two owls, and a wren friend.
One of the owls said I would wish I’d left this alone in the end.
I at last figured out it had to do with a silly Canadian goose.
One that tricked this guy into carrying a beaver for apple juice.
It was all done in fun, but the Moose got extremely angry with me.
I decorated him up like a beautiful, glittering Christmas tree.
We all sat around and sang carols and were having a good time.
But the beaver fell out of his antlers and got hurt and yelled sublime.
Worse, he took him to court and the Moose lost his house and stuff.
At least Santa keeps him as back up if a reindeer gets sick or rough.
But why hurt his feelings? I asked the bully of a Canadian goose.
He kind of likes it, the fowl said. He is the only Christmas Moose.
But how do you know? I demanded, defending his honor.
Because in secret he calls himself Blitzen and Donner.
He showed me the Christmas Moose standing in the mirror all lit.
Never tell him you saw this, for he would have a royal fit!
Dinner was over an hour ago
Counters wiped clean, dishes are washed and dried
I hold my glass up to the light like a color slide,
and see the world, warped, and blurred through the half glass of rosy wine
It makes everything seem clearer, somehow, and sobers my mind
From our long silhouettes, we sit on the lawn, and gaze to the mountains,
talking quietly, and sipping the pink charodonnay
Dark of the shade seems to drink up the light of day
Summer carols being sung by two mourning doves,
are accompanied by a choir of crickets in the dewy grass
calling for reverence in honor of a dying sun
Soft voices are lifted in still air
The pink light seems to paralyze time.
We have found kindness here,
and somehow the grueling trials of the year
seem smaller than they did yesterday
Now the day turns toward the darkness
and we have rid our taste of the dry and bitter dust
of everything that has been said and done
The north wind shakes the trees
and the last leaf that clung so fast and tight
releases its grip, and disappears into the dusk
We shall never need to see where it lands
for we are forbidden strangers to the dark
Let us remain friends with the light
Let us unclench our old resistance
And after we have finished the last drop of wine
we will turn, and go inside
and thank our stars
for the pungent taste
that yet lingers
on our tongues
in case
we might
need
proof
that some years will harvest a bitter taste....
and
some
years
will
harvest
a
crop
blessed
by
the
sun
_____________________________________
For Deb's Contest: "Referential"
reference: Chris Aechtner's Poem: unclench fists
Underneath the thick and icy snow is
buried the dormant wild grass that lost
its glitter: it's spring's emerald blanket
that covered the barren soil of meadows!
Even the blinding light of our main Star
doesn't shine too brightly over anything,
even afternoons are short and uninspiring;
this poet puts down his pen with mind ajar!
Christmas has been without any gleeful carols,
every street glistens with ice and somberness;
the only happy persons are the frantic skaters,
we watch them behind this window shut to joys!
The Holidays are marred by grins of melancholy,
fun is reserved for the very young, we had ours;
and while squirrels and birds don't frequent trees
to stir the essence of harmony, we observe all sadly!
Winter is a brutal omen who strips trees of their leaves
and meadows of fragrant flowers to anger romantic hearts
who dream of lovely afternoons that turn into pretty sunsets:
we were those lovers hugging and exchanging fervent kisses!
Underneath the thick and icy snow can easily be found
a blazing hope that can melt it quickly and awaken spring
from the lethargy of four long months without any song:
breathe on the frozen ground and your wish will unfold!
This is my first time to spend Christmas
With your gracious family whom I belong…
Festive spirit I feel as expressed by every lad and lass
Especially that in this country Christmas holiday is so long!
Since you adopted me, I came to learn love’s essence truly
As you live out your faith and practice the verse in the Scriptures
Asserting "A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast” very clearly
Highlighted in this Season of giving, sharing, and caring around love-gestures!
Blessed am I for letting me experience Christmas delights
Through various specialties and delicacies you made me savor
How can I forget the lantern parade with the marching of a bright light
And the carols, hymns, and psalms I listened to while you sing with fervor!
Finally, I thank you for these gifts*:
My new comfortable pen inside your residence
Readying me for my puppies’ birth, creating joy-lifts
Along with all the accessories signifying my motherhood-license!
*Hebrews 11:4 ...God testifying of his gifts...
Personification and Quatrain forms
December 27, 2018
3rd place, "Christmas Pets - Writing Challenge December 2018" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart; judged on 12/31/2018.