Long December 31 Poems
Long December 31 Poems. Below are the most popular long December 31 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long December 31 poems by poem length and keyword.
I would have to pause in trying to remember certain things that I would have experienced or events that happened 20 years ago. On the other hand, there is one major world situation that gradually unfolded 19 years ago with which I have no trouble. For 1999, I do not remember wars, quakes, hurricanes, etc. But I do remember Y2K.
It was as if we thought the sky would fall, or something near that. It was as if someone walked out of the big house, leaving the gas on and realizing that anyone with the slightest spark would cause a blast that would cause a chain reaction setting everything in sight on fire and create the greatest worldwide catastrophy that mankind had ever known.
Why, it was as if every airplane throughout the earth would cease to fly and drop from the sky, and the late model cars and vehicles with onboard computers would not start or would refuse to run any longer leaving us all stranded in our tracks.
I tell you, the internet was a child without Facebook or Google at the time, and we now seem to be so far removed from there that I wonder if anyone even knows what I am talking about. Why, I can't remember if I even owned a computer back then or if one was in my 1992 Honda Accord. It was as if everyone had a world of questions and no one but had any answers. I suppose in this fiber optic age, that would be like the dark ages, or like having a switch and wondering what would happen when we turned on the light.
At the time, if Walter Cronkite had still been anchoring the evening news, we would have heard him say, "That's the way it is on December 31, 1999". I tell you, as I remember it, there was a bit of uncertainty and mystery about what was going to happen just past midnight as we anticipated the year 2000. That's just the way it was back then in 1999. It was as if................
12262018PoSoup.
"Father does not see the mournful sad tears,
that fall on a mossy stone;
O, my broken heart weeps.
And I recall running into your open arms a little girl innocent,
you were the first man I loved, and will always be special;
the older I get, the smarter you seem to have been back then,
my anchor, my rock, my protector, my security, my Dad.
Can I ever forget our walks hand-in-hand, in parks and woods,
you taught me to love nature and to see with eyes open;
hours we would sit on a park bench watching life drifting by,
and I would ask you all kinds of silly little girl questions.
Even in death you are my guiding light, my safe harbor,
you left me suddenly I never got to say, I love you Dad;
tearfully, I asked you to forgive me as I held your cold dead hand,
if I hurt you sorry, I forgive you also for all harsh words.
I remember bringing you hot cups of tea out to your workshop,
sitting beside you at your dusty, cobwebby workbench;
admiring your many rows and rows of tin cans and old bottles,
you were always asking Mom for some kind of container.
Mom said, you kept every nail, screw and bolt you ever met,
and I would add- and every board too, and we would laugh;
it was me who cleaned out the workshop, O, the stabbing pain,
I lingered there for days touching things you touched.
Dear LORD, please take care of my Daddy till I get to heaven,
Dad, I brought you a dew-kissed yellow rose from my garden;
of all the flowers Mother grew, you loved the yellow roses best,
laying it gently down on your tomb, I walk away with pride.
It was on that same workbench that I picked up your pencil,
on the day of your death, I wrote a poem about my Daddy;
and that day I left the child who was me behind and became of poet,
an hour after your death in that workshop- I found my Muse.
____________________________________
December 31, 2015
Poetry/Kimo/Verse/Daddy
Copyright Protected, ID 15-740-246-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Tell Us About Your Dad,
sponsor, Judy Konos
First Place
"Father does not see the mournful sad tears,
that fall on a mossy stone;
O, my broken heart bleeds."
And I recall running into your open arms a little girl innocent,
You were the first man I loved, and will always be special;
The older I get, the smarter you seem to have been back then,
My anchor, my rock, my protector, my security, my Dad.
Can I ever forget our walks hand-in-hand, in parks and woods,
You taught me to love nature and to see with eyes open;
Hours we would sit on a park bench watching life drifting by,
And I would ask you all kinds of silly little girl questions.
Even in death you are my guiding light, my safe harbour,
You left me suddenly I never got to say, I love you Dad;
Tearfully, I asked you to forgive me as I held your cold hand,
If I hurt you sorry, I forgive you also for harsh words.
I remember bringing you hot cups of tea out to your workshop,
Sitting beside you at your dusty, cobwebby workbench;
Admiring your many rows and rows of tin cans and old bottles,
You were always asking Mom for some kind of container.
Mom said, you kept every nail, screw or bolt you ever met,
And I would add, and every board too, and we would laugh;
It was me who cleaned out the workshop, O, the stabbing pain,
I lingered there for days touching things you touched.
Dear LORD, please take care of my Daddy till I get to heaven,
Dad, I brought you a dew-kissed yellow rose from my garden;
Of all the flowers Mother grew, you loved the yellow roses best,
Laying it gently down on your tomb, I walk away with pride.
It was on that same workbench that I picked up your pencil,
On the day of your death, I wrote a poem about my Daddy;
And that day I left the child that was me behind and became of poet,
An hour after your death in that workshop I found my Muse.
____________________________________
December 31, 2015
Poetry/Kimo/Verse/Daddy
Copyright Protected, ID 15-740-246-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Tell Us About Your Dad,
sponsor, Judy Konos
First Place
What makes a child feel closer to one parent rather than to the other?
Although love bound me to the heart of my mother,
it was to my Father's side that I chose to cling.
He was always the first up in the morning, even before the sun.
He knew as a farmer, his work in the fields was never done.
I remember my first day of school. He was the bus driver.
Timid little me, I looked out the window and there he was,
peering back at me. I ran from the room and into his arms.
After a hug he looked me in the eye and said. "Don't cry."
I thought I was home free,
but my Dad took me by the hand and walked me back to my desk.
My Dad, he always knew how to handle me.
I wanted no part of housework.
To the fields I followed him after school.
It was our time to talk about our dreams, problems, whatever was on our minds.
He never stopped, not even after open heart surgery...twice.
It slowed him down, but never made him quit.
I watched the strength in him fade away,
day after day he lost the battle of ill health.
His kidneys were shutting down and he finally lost his will to live.
The last time he opened his eyes I kissed him goodbye and he could only smile.
That night he went into a coma and I prayed to God that He let him die.
I've never felt guilty about those prayers.
I'd already lost my Father to sleep.
I have no bad memories of my Dad.
He was never the one to dole out a spanking.
He was my buddy; my hero in every sense of the over used word.
We hunted together~ he taught me to drive a tractor ~ I could go on.
He loved me as much as I still love him.
I was blessed to have such a wonderful father, and grandfather to my children.
=================================================
December 31st, 2015 Tell About your Dad Contest: Sponsor: Judy Konos
Cancer took from me
Many, many years ago
My best and most cherished friend...
And over the years
It didn't stop just there
It has taken members of my family
It has taken lovers
It has taken many other friends.
It has been generational
It has been painful
Cancer has often signified the end.
It has signified the end of cherished kisses.
The end of conversations that last all night
The end of someone's companionship
Companionship that you will always crave
Throughout both days and nights.
Having one taking leave of their earthly pain and darkness
And moving on in to a heavenly light.
I still feel the weight of my friend's body
I have felt that weight throughout the years
I still feel myself telling myself to remember to breathe
I remember trying to stand strong through all my tears.
There is nothing, nothing sadder than that
Than holding up the casket of a wonderful friend
Its sadness will always be with me
Some things stay with us until our own ends.
And so on this Hallowed Eve
This first night of the Newest Year
I will be thinking of all those that I have lost
Those that I have loved throughout the years.
This night signifies a new beginning
It signifies some bitter ends
But I will always remember those
Those I have loved until their ends.
I will think about them often
How their presence has changed my life
I will chersih the fact that I had them
That I had them at all in this life.
And so I look toward this New Year
And all the new friends in my life
And I look forward to sharing myself with them
The continuation of the ongoing circle of life.
New friendships start out as being different
They are not the same as the beloved old
But they have the potential to grow into that
The silver can evolve into gold.
I love the people that I have in my life
I love having them grow closer and ever more dear
I love sharing fun and laughter with them every day
I look forward to this new upcoming year.
(December 31, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
Don’t Talk About It—Write About It
As a writer and a poet, sometimes people ask me how I
do, what I do, every day as I research themes and topics
for poems or prose works that I want to write about and
develop for potential publication in the future.
The “how I do” and the “what I do” with regard to my
everyday writing on any given theme or group of themes
are predicated on the active notion that I don’t, as a rule,
talk idly about people, topics or themes per se, rather I go
ahead and focus exactly on a certain theme or subject of
interest, and then I begin to write about it.
What’s the magic formula for doing all of this research
and active committed work associated with professional
writing? The answer can be summarized in two words:
Hard Work! If one is not willing to engage and to put the
effort and work into any certain writing endeavor, a true
quality writing product won’t be the result.
I write because I enjoy writing very much. Poetry is the
one literary undertaking that I like to do the most. I find
often that writing poetry has helped me to focus, and then
to write on given ideas, topics or themes more succinctly.
When a person sees a book of poetry that has, for example,
200 poems listed in it, just think of each poem, in essence,
as its very own story.
Concerning the infamous “Writer’s Block” syndrome, all
I can say is that a writer or any aspiring writer just needs
to keep working away at their various writing efforts and
never give up. Having the requisite skills and talent to be
an effective and interesting writer, poet, or novelist are a
given. Yet, one also needs a high degree of raw moxie and
a measure of commitment and steadfastness too, in order
to see any writing venture or product to its end point, and
especially toward eventual publication.
My final closing thought concerning the writing of poetry
and prose, and any other literary endeavors, in general, is:
Don’t Talk About It—Write About It!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 31, 2018 (Narrative)
December 31 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Revelation 22
Key Verse– Revelation 22:1 And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY WATER OF LIFE
Lord God, You are my Water of life,
so pure and clear as crystal
Thank You for enabling me to yield fruits surely immortal
I come to Your throne, my prayer-portal
With my healed soul, rescued from hell that’s verily fatal.
Lord God, You are my Water of life,
so powerful in healing me from curse of sinfulness
Thank You for letting me see Your face by faith’s pureness
I submit to Your altar midst servanthood meekness
With my humble heart, acknowledging Your highness.
Lord God, You are my Water of life,
so bright with Your light
Thank You for allowing me to worship You by Your wisdom’s insight
I stay in Your faithfulness, truthfully right
With my blissful state, upheld by Your blessedness’ might.
Lord God, You are my Water of life,
so convicting along Your book’s prophecy
Thank You for commending me of my work’s diligent persistency
I possess Your seal, confirming Your salvation mercy
With my justified condition imputed by Your pardon’s fervency.
Lord God, You are my Water of life,
so omnipotent in Your Alpha and Omega reign
Thank You for inviting me to enter into Your gates of divine terrain
I cling to Your power devoid of any selfish gain
With my willing obedience, never vain.
Lord God, You are my Water of life,
so loving with Your forgiving
Thank You for revealing to me Your Word for jubilant reviving
I testify about Your goodness and blessings I am receiving
With my cheerful heart, inspired by spiritual thriving.
Lord God, You are my Water of life,
so holy in Your virtue-bestowment
Thank You for changing me toward character-development
I wait for Your coming while victorious in my ministry involvement
With my vibrant disposition for Your prosperous New Year-endowment.
December 31, 2023
In a moment of understandable frustration with me,
My wife demanded to know what I really believed in.
I thought for a minute, tear glands filling,
"The essential goodness of my parents."
My mother was a child of the great city of Philadelphia,
In hard times in a hard family, soon to fracture,
She withdrew from the days when her father would leave his little girls
In the car all afternoon in back alleys near the taverns,
From which he would emerge, full of volume and vomit.
She grew through school, emerging herself to be a wonderful mom,
To kindle her children's interest in the physical world,
Geology, astronomy, physics, and the patterned realms
Of painting, music, and poetry.
She showed me that she loved me.
She showed me that parents were people.
She showed me that parents were fallible,
That not everything could be controlled,
And that that was okay too.
My father was a child of the land,
Of farming in the age of innocence,
Long ago down in the southern part of the state of Indiana.
He knew of seeds, of frost, of the earth and time,
Of rock and root, of wind and drought and rain.
He never complained about rain - we kids didn't like the muddy yard
That was supposed to be a football field - he'd say,
"Tell you what - I'll take the rain. I've seen the other."
The most honest man I know, the most honest person that could ever be,
He watched the night sky with me when I said, "Moon and tar."
He took me to a hardware store on a stormy summer Saturday,
Dark clouds coming close, in a car with the thicker sheet metal of the old days.
Just as we parked, the first raindrops, that irregular rhythm, compelling,
"Hey Doug! Would you listen to that rain?! Let's just sit here for a while."
We sat with the rain on the roof as it began in earnest,
That rain of a thousand thousand hits,
A million baby birds doing their firecracker tap dance above us,
That rain that has lasted me the rest of my life.
December 31, 2016.
For Brenda Chiri-Carroll's contest - 'Who has inspired you most in your life.'
Bereft of CHRIST, and the very word “Christ,”
there would be no Christmas…
since Christmas is the birth of Jesus Christ
the “Emmanuel”* Who is the Saviour
though not exactly on December 25
as traditionally known...
Devoid of CHRIST, the remaining “mas”
would be in acrostic mean “Man As Sinner.”
I do believe that the biblical Christmas
is the incarnation of God, becoming human
miraculously conceived by the Holy Spirit
to reach down to me, a sinner in need of redemption.
Because of CHRIST, Christmas’ is a valuable gift
as mankind is offered love-wrapped present
with eternal life, forgiveness, and peace.
To me, Christmas is receiving
“the gift of God” which is “eternal life
through Jesus Christ our Lord.”**
With CHRIST as the reason for the season
Christmas for me is commemoration...
Celebrating the Lord Who deserves praise-filled commitment
Honouring and worshipping Him with all my heart
Renewing my earnestness to serve responsibly
Inclining my whole to Him, trusting His Word so immutable
Sharing the Gospel, testifying about His grace and salvation
Triumphing in His marvelous wonders thankfully
Making His deeds known, exalting His name, magnificent
Acknowledging His leadership as to Him I yield my all
Staying in His blessed will while faith He strengthens.
Hence, Christmas to me is living for CHRIST*** everyday.
*Matthew 1:23 Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.
**Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
***Philippians 1:21 For to me to live is Christ…
December 31, 2019
Edited on December 14, 2020
3rd place, "Christmas Poems Old or New" Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 12/22/2020.
Farewell 2014, God Bless You
Good years pass in a wink
The cup is broken before you finish a drink
The bad ones each day, a hell, an inferno
Sheepishly creeping in, you made tall promises
Peace, tranquility, harmony
End of conflict, strife and poverty,
Rule of Law, good governance, redeeming of grievances
Your promises fell by the way side
The high and mighty you served like your predecessors
You reincarnated Hitler, Mussolini and Caesars
Humbleness vanished, ruled arrogance and pride
To Syria and Iraq you gifted ISIS
In Afghanistan and Pakistan you created crisis
The cruel hands of Satan like Taliban were let loose
For the afflicted, anguish and pain you choose
You were a silent spectator to Israel’s atrocities
Like Nero you fiddled when Gaza burnt
The cries and wailings of Palestinian women and children
Fell on deaf ears; didn't melt your hardened heart
You unleashed sufferings to Muslims in Myanmar
You saw the massacre of school children in Peshawar
The sit in observed by the leader Imran Khan
Against the corrupt rulers in Pakistan
Which good deed you boast about
It is best for you now quietly to slip out
And allow me to welcome two thousand and fifteen
See the seed of New Year’s dawn sprout
With radiant shine and glow of hope on its face
The New Year may as well enter the race
May through Almighty’s sublime grace
The conflicts and sufferings to leave no trace
Exit 2014 and enter two thousand fifteen
May tomorrow promise a life tranquil and serene!
Sintra, Portugal -December 31, 2014 -23:54 hours