Long Nostalgiachristmas Poems
Long Nostalgiachristmas Poems. Below are the most popular long Nostalgiachristmas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nostalgiachristmas poems by poem length and keyword.
Our family reunion is coming...My, Oh My,
Times in my youth, of family gathering, and customs traditional.
The theme this year is "Christmas in July",
Like Dickens' Ghost of Christmas Past I can recall.
I remember those days with quiet revelry,
The cold winter nights of going to Grandpa's house.
Those Polish customs, the foods, the "Opwatky",
Seeing all my cousins there, the joys it would arouse.
The piney aroma that permeated the air,
There was the tree with its festive lights so bright.
You could smell it even before you got there,
The ornaments and tinsel, garlands that reflected each colored light.
The stable on the floor has all the figures but one,
There were gifts for all beneath the tree.
He won't arrive until the Midnight Mass is done,
I'd always be looking for the one for me.
Then there was the laughter and the games galore,
Oh, for the traditional "Opwatky" before dinner.
How we made such noise in that great roomed parlor,
Whoever cracked the biggest piece was the winner.
Then to sit at a table piled high with food,
Yes, these are the times I want to recall.
Kielbasa, Pierogi, Kapusta, all tasted so good,
Not just for me, but for the families all.
But for the ones who never knew of our tradition,
For there is a humbling pride in writing this story.
It would certainly give them some admonition,
The kind that can only come from loving memory.
So, I will write down those things that I still retain,
To our "Christmas in July" reunion as it stands.
Well stored but dusty, in my memory engrained,
I'll write so I will not go with empty hands.
For our families have not shared a Christmas together,
My story will be my gift to them you see.
In so many years, this is just the time and the weather,
I'll write it, wrap it, and put one for each under the tree.
If their memories are even sparked just a bit,
My "Christmas in July" will have been well worth it.
Wesolych Swiat! (Merry Christmas in Polish)
Written for "Christmas in July" Contest...please note that it is a better read as Couplets - acbd
I was twelve years old and it was the Christmas Season.
We were on our best behavior; you know the reason.
Christmas decorations were taken down from storage.
Some of them were from last year; some of them were vintage.
Dad brought in the Christmas tree, a fragrant Douglas fir.
Mom put on twinkle lights while listening to our banter.
The three of us, laughing, imaginations unbound.
Jumping up and down with festivities all around.
One by one, we put on bulbs and talked of seasons past.
We sang a few Christmas songs; we were having a blast.
Logs burning in the fireplace warmed us very well.
Happiness was all around until I told this tale.
When I was just a youngster, seven or eight years back.
Christmas Eve, many years before, I shared the flashback.
The babysitter kept me up, my brother in bed.
She made me promise not to tell or I would be dead!
One by one, we opened each gift there beneath the tree.
I knew that it was wrong, because I was older than three.
I felt afraid, but she was so nice, a friend to me.
She re-wrapped every gift and my parents did not see!
I kept my mouth shut all of those years; then came the guilt.
I confessed to Mom; all of a sudden, life went tilt!
Santa won't bring presents; I felt like a doormat.
All you will get is a bag of coal; think about that.
Every time presents arrived, mine would disappear.
I did not believe in Santa Clause, but I felt fear!
Mounds of gifts were piled around; none of them were for me.
Wrath befell me for years past under the Christmas tree.
Solemnly, the weeks went past and I felt very sad.
I guess I deserved it after all; I had been bad.
On Christmas day, postal gifts returned along with one more.
The bag of switches from Santa Clause, I still abhor.
© November 14, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Written for: your "Saddest" Christmas Ever Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
All is calm, it is Christmas night
Time almost still in reverence
Shutters pulled, streets empty, bare
A Holy silence reigning
Holding it's presence to celebrate a birth.
Panic over, presents exchanged
Fairy lights peep through drapes
Little ones tucked in - depleted
Weary Mums sleep in easy chairs
Dad's still playing with toy trains.
Children come home from abroad
To rekindle after years of parting
They tell safe tales of life and travels
Mothers weep, joy and sadness
They look back, they look forward.
Fridges bulge with turkeys and ham
Free range this and free range that.
Fruit cakes iced with winter whiteness
Decked with ribbons on festive tables.
Empty port bottles awaiting recycle.
Newly weds share their first Christmas
Some couples share their last.
Thousands of red candles flicker.
Youths play board games and charades
In some homes all hell breaks loose.
The Queen of England is on television
She speaks of God and of the economy.
The homeless man is sleeping
Somewhere in the Kerry mountains.
A friend took him his Christmas dinner.
Adeste Fideles plays out the night
A leaf blows down the sleepy street
The festive lights sway in the breeze
Christmas night is closing in.
In my hometown of Hillsboro
A humble, small suburb
There stood a church that was more humble still
In that cozy congregation
We'd teach and learn the Word
And try each day to do the Father's will
But our little congregation
Each year at Christmastime
Would execute a miraculous feat!
The whole town would come out in droves
To view what we'd present
A Christmas pageant right next to the street!
The first vignette was of a home
A modern family
Telling of that first Christmas long ago
The next scene showed the palaces
Of Herod on his throne
When his grim proclaimation he bestowed
Each onlooker could walk or drive
From scene to sacred scene
But either way, observers saw the worth
For every stop would reenact
The story of God's love
From Herod to the blessed Savior's birth
The community seemed hungry
To hear the wondrous news
Of the Messiah, born to die for us
And like them, we were richly blessed
To share with all who came
The spectacle-- a Journey Through Christmas!
*This is a true story that I've presented in poetry form for Carolyn Devonshire's "Christmas
in Your Town" Contest
Drifting, slowly drifting
in my mind to a place
of long ago.
As I dose off to a dream land
so peaceful and quite,
seeing my friends playing
their cares away.
As I walk up to them
they greet me with smiles
and hugs, saying how
they have missed me.
I look around knowing
that this was the place
where I had the best time of
my life.
Drifting farther away
from the present, still
to even better days,
family all gathered,
around the old Christmas tree,
a real one, with the smell of pine
in the air, snow on the ground
for a white Christmas to enjoy.
Looking at my mother, forgot
how young she was at one time,
brothers and my dear sister,
oh what joy, this was to be here.
Morning came to soon,
as the light of day woke me,
and I drifted back to the present,
memories of long ago remembered
and will cherish them for ever.
wrote 9-3-08