Long Holly Poems
Long Holly Poems. Below are the most popular long Holly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Holly poems by poem length and keyword.
First Christmas without you, my dearest, my love
Cruelly taken too soon on the wings of a dove
How can I rejoice when my heart broke in two
Those memories still vivid of my last days with you
No holly, no ivy are decking the hall
No Christmas cards; no Christmas tree; nothing at all
Awakening early on this Christmas day morn
I watch the sun rising, for it’s just before dawn
The full moon is shining, like a beacon from afar
And very close to me there is a twinkling, silver star
I am pulled towards my garden as the dawn begins to break
And gently wipe sleep from my eyes; I need to be awake
The moon shines down so brightly, as if to celebrate
Illuminating my old Fir tree, adorned with snowflakes twinkling at me
I venture closer to my tree to witness tiny birds a fluttering
A nightingale perched on the top, a joyous song she’s uttering
I watch this magical scene unfold in wondrous disbelief
and dabbing tears of joy and love with my Christmas handkerchief
That twinkling, silver star is Venus; known as the Goddess of love
I feel your love enveloping me as she twinkles and sparkles above
For somehow Mother Nature has, in all her Christmassy glory
Gifted me a happy end to my grief-stricken Christmas story
Written 10th December 2018
Competition: Christmas Tree
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
5th place in Premier Contest
Contest A BRIAN STRAND COUPLET
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Moshe, Larry, Curly,
Howls, cries, nyuks;
Three silly comic stars:
Smile, clown -- Cluck!
Chico, Harpo, Benny, Berle,
Moron grins, happy chins;
Crazy nutty comic kooks:
Funny jokes -- egads zooks!
Alvin Ailey, dance gaily,
False teeth: Brush daily;
Silly Sally, Dilly-dally,
Ollie, Holly, Mollie!
Belly flops, fatal plops,
Messy slops, lemon drops;
Harry Caray, Tooth Fairy,
Music Maven -- Chuck Berry.
Pitty-patty, kitty-katty,
Ticky-tacky, Cinci-nnati
Polly-Wolly, Wooly Bully,
Diffy-daffy, Laughy Taffy!
March 22, 2018
Contest entry in "A little laughter five," sponsored by
Edward McCall, closing date - March 23, 2018
Notes: Moe Howard's (of the Three Stooges) actual first name was Moshe.
'Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk' was a trademark line of Curly (3 Stooges.)
Berle is comedian: Milton Berle (aka 'Uncle Miltie').
'Egads zooks' is an exclamation my mother and others of her
generation used to use (frequently).
'Wooly Bully' was a pop song by Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs,
released in 1965; it soared high on the Top-40 charts.
Gray overcast clouds cluttered the sky, leftovers of Saturday wind and rain and cold. I scanned the yard for the birds and squirrels, so often scavenging fallen flower seed and stale, dried bread.
In among the fallen gathered leaves and branches, where the night winds scattered autumn's remnants and their residue, she huddled, brown beige fluffed with piercing eyes, appearing beneath the holly, nibbling on some fallen berries and sedum seeds, a dove sat, alone and soltary, eyeing her surroundings, quiet in December's cold.
Perhaps she sought a long-lost mate, succumb to the harshness of the season, or waited on the warmth of a rising sun, or just listened for the gatherings of other creatures here, in the safety and confines of the garden, now at rest or perhaps, she waited - on the joy and celebration of the season.
Was she recalling the stories of old, ancestral stories of the dove of peace?
Was she familiar with the prophecies, sagas told of a king to come?
Was she only one of God's many creatures, created and loved in their simplicity, images of his love, the pleasure of his countenance?
Patient, she settled in the embrace of the season, recalling all her mind knew. The encounters of food and mate, love and care provided throughout her life, the warmth of the winter sun, the shelter of the fallen leaves, the hope and promise of spring and new life to come. For now, as she sequestered herself in all of nature, she held out for the signs.
The images of a slowly rising sun, a star-traveling east, the journey of a young husband and wife, expecting the old prophecy to be fulfilled. Waiting on Christmas arrival, she knew well, he would come, the innocent babe in a manger, in a war-ravaged city, where Hope would reign once again. In that quiet solitude, she prayed, she would take flight again and announce to the world, peace was coming, open your hearts, welcome him with your arms.
Vandyke oak tree, burgundy’s of Vandyke reds,
browns and gold’s; painted canvas in the sky;
a tower of crispy colors.
When you shed for winter, your secrets are revealed.
Each curve of limb reveals a story;
each knothole, an injury from your past.
Squirrel home sits on branch-roadways;
he’ll never get his mail, with no house number;
if he had one, he could order delivery
instead of hoarding so much food.
Old oak bending to the winds whims,
rocks squirrel to sleep at night.
I spy an occasional winged traveler
among the secrets; a robin left behind by the flock.
It watches through my window;
I know he wants to come in, but robins
are not house broken and
they do not use a cat box or toilet.
I send him a mental message to build in
the Holly or Spruce tree; I hope he is listening.
Oak had lost its Vandyke warmth.
In Spring, a new start will hide all birds;
for now, robin must seek other real estate.
Like a baseball in a glove,
I took my place in the holly tree.
From here, they must come and listen,
It's a grand slam... I shall speak cordially.
I brought enough food
to stay for weeks
until my simple message is heard,
digested from I, who's mild and meek.
And so they came,
authorities, family and friends
to see a spectacle in a tree;
Time moved slowly as did more attend.
I spoke my words,
peacefully;
"They are out to get me,
with numerology!".
Though deaf ears listened
with arms outreached,
"Please come down,
we are hear to help", spoked amicably.
So to the ground
I made my way...
I was running the bases,
but it was not my play.
And this is where my journey began...
Hospitals, jail and doctor's rooms!
My message was never heard,
as it was left up in the holly tree tomb.
Tuesday, October 19, 2021
Pancake Gorilla Onion
It is obvious, the connection
Pancake, gorilla, onion
Walking down the street of all conclusions
Closed in on all sides by saffron meadows
On all fours if you like
Reached before the end
Hidden below the surface
All words emerge sooner or later
What's next on the agenda
Do you expect us to believe
Troglodyte, ash tray, light bulb
Don't say I didn't warn you
Is ash tray even a word
Bless me with the metal aspergillum
Holly water thirsty first
How ridiculous that sounds
Pancake gorilla onion
Will have the final word
*Authors note: aspergillum is a real word. You have to dig a little bit to find it. It is a religious metal device or object used to sprinkle holy water at religious ceremonies.
If it's worth doing, do it with a passion.
Let go the uninspiring humdrum role
That fills your days, and never seek to ration
That which enchants and feeds your very soul.
The unforgiving pendulum of time,
Relentless, marking all your passing hours,
Knows in its rhythm when your stars align
And understanding, deeply felt, allows.
Memories carried on a summer breeze,
A scent that summons up a childhood gone,
A loving glance, dawn sunshine through the trees,
An unexpected tear, a winter morn,
The diamonds in the snow, the rubies red
Upon the holly, dark and stormy skies,
First signs of spring and brighter days ahead,
To be aware that in each small thing lies
A chance to ponder, analyse, explore,
To seek within your heart what these reveal
And, turning back the clock, your mind restore.
Seek what was lost, but was forever real,
As contemplation, primal love, compassion.
Re-set your stage, think not that it's a chore.
If it's worth doing, do it with a passion.
I've done my part; all the players are laid to rest.
Three wise men gazing at a star.
A gentle beast braying
The lamb with the chipped leg.
A family of three still smiling
Though they lost a little bit more hay.
The season of holly and miracles is over.
Plastic messiah dumped to the back of the closet.
With the bulbs, bows, and happy wrapping paper.
The good food and good mood are gone for another year.
It's back to spam and eggs, A house of chains.
The heavens have surely darkened.
I slide out of the sun and into the Inn.
For some post-holiday tiny gray talk.
A couple of cheers with a chaser of sloppiness.
No sentinel leaves his fortress
in a sudden attack and lets
his enemies own it,
no devoted soldier, who has
sworn loyalty to his country,
is afraid and runs away:
be it day or night;
be it dark or light!
Live your full purpose,
be inspiring, uplift others,
they will repay you in kind;
any life can be cut short,
who hasn't known moments
passionately wild?
Who hasn't questioned
his doubtful heart?
I have questioned myself
if I was worthy of shame,
or of a praise not given;
I'll be judged according to my deeds!
No need to plant new seeds
to be acclaimed or forgiven;
no need to feel sorry for myself.!
Live your full purpose,
honor what you chose;
you'll be remembered at death:
finaly rest under a holly wreath!
From Holly
Dear Oliver, how long has it been?
Sixty plus years have grown between us.
We were seven or was it eight years old
but we were madly in love—remember?
I would wear my hair over the shoulders
long and straight, just the way you liked it.
I changed desks just so I could sit next to you.
Our lunches were a heavenly half-hour when we
would discuss our wedding plans.
You were always such a terrible speller-I
always had to help you—remember?
My penmanship was so neat and precise and yours
so sloppy, the teacher would make you rewrite
all of your assignments. I would giggle.
When you would ride bicycle past my house I would
always come look for you. I knew you would ride by
my house on purpose. I was looking forward to going
through our school years together. Then,
you moved away.