Long Sleighs Poems
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~Snow Globe Splendor~
A misty fog escapes my mouth
each time I exhale warming my
cold lips
As I breathe a coldness fills
my lungs with a pine freshness
The powdery snow embraces
the arms of each bare tree limb
and each park bench holds a
cushion of frozen flakes almost
welcoming
Icicles hang like glistening diamonds
from the streetlights as the sun hits
them shining
Wraping my arms about myself
to find warmth from the frigid air
I watch as the children race to the
top of a steep hill to ride their new
Christmas sleighs down over
and over again laughing in delight
their noses and cheeks a rosy red
Walking away frozen water crystals
crunch underfoot when my day is
shaken and the snow
begins to dance and twirl silently
falling to blanket my footprints
in a hush,leaving me spellbound
in this Snow globe splendor
Contest: stuck in Christmas snow globe
Sponsor: Bobby May
Date:11/20/2019
Boys carry their snow sleds
up, up
to the highest peak
scaling risk
their voices pitched
chattering noise of expectation
frozen giddiness on snow packed hills
boys belly flop onto plastic sleighs
bubble-headed jauntiness launches them
lunging down, down
bewildering "swish" of speed
smashing white drifts
projectiles scattered
boys tossed in snowbanks like pizza dough spinning
baked together in joy
pushing the balance of extreme
runs repeated
brash, blunt, bold
epic span of freedom
ignoring downfalls from ill timed moves
in a lost sense of direction
gleefully tired
snow flecked
boys wheeze the icy air
make their way home
their talk clotted with bravado
beneath it, the unspoken promise to never tire
of boyhood
in twilight, the slopes gleam
gouged by sled marks
that clear a path for growth
targeted direction
and if boys fall from the path
are there souls
who'll notice?
when ruts threaten
when sleds teeter
in unruly spaces
Poem composed February 2, 2022
There was a time
not so very long ago
when clopping horses
and sighing sleighs
and paddle splashing canoes,
and then, later, trains
and electric streetcars
were the resounding heart
of multicultural transportation.
And local newspapers
with indigenous,
perennially planted village editors
among ecoschooled
one-room patriarchal chiefs
competed only with local gossip
in barber shops
and beauty parlors
for communicating hearts,
listening among each democratic trusting,
sometimes mistrusting,
but rarely anti-trusting, other.
These were slower
and in some more nutritional
ways more goodfaith experiential based
and less indoors extracted,
distracted from outdoor Earth voices
singing resonance,
preaching resilient multicultural climates
of and for co-redeeming health
as Original Intent
of Paradise WinWin Wealth.
There were these times
when horses and sleighs,
mules and oxen,
cattle and pigs,
camels and llamas,
and then, later, bird flight imaginations,
bikes
and ecoschools
and organic composting gardens,
electric streetcars and trains
were the heart of multicultural
PositivEnergy communication.
Now let me share my shivery story,
With random revelations shed some light -
Though I’m a dazzling glow but no glory,
I’m much more than white mesmerising sight.
I know around the globe I’m frowned upon,
Shoved aside as unremarkable meme.
Frosty and I, my boon companion -
Ephemeral scapegoats of Nature’s whim.
The poignant part that’s so freezin’ unfair,
Snowbirds and geese leave sweet homeland behind,
And what the hail, even a grizzly bear
Under my frozen fist checks out to hide.
I’m well aware that cars are going nuts,
When on black ice wheels spin out of control,
I’m traffic’s curse and drivers hate my guts -
Apologies for my heavy downfall.
Still silver lining’s part of every cloud -
I’m not warm and affectionate as such,
But my visage being shovelled and plowed
Morphs into cool and captivating touch.
Though I’m made up of many a snowflake -
Floating frigid and fragile to adore,
I swear and say for elves and Santa’s sake -
There is white substance to my melting core.
I’m seasonal and thus a treasured treat,
I’m well equipped and sell extremely well:
Without my gifts, apart from slush and sleet,
Would be no sleighs, no skis, no NHL.
I’m a commodity just so you know,
When you can’t smell the roses, seize the snow!
Let winter’s inhibition cover go -
And Let it glow! Let it glow! Let it glow!
I’m getting old, and where I live I doubt
I’ll see it any more, except maybe on screen
When troubled towns are featured in the news,
Or in those festive greetings cards with sleighs
Or frozen pines, perhaps a coach or deer
And mystery. Always its rarity was there,
And as a child I’d pray for it to come,
To fall like magic as in Dickens’ days,
One welcome night when soft and silent
Flakes began. But mostly it would not.
No land made perfect for our eyes.
No waking to a world of white for us,
It happened somewhere else, where people
Hated it, it seemed. And so with every
Other thing: some love, some hate
And none have choice. For life itself is thus.
Christmas Tree
Little bits of silver tinsel,
Velvet ribbons and shiny globes,
Strings of stars borrowed from the heavens
Next to angels with golden hair;
Flying sleighs and drummer boys,
Sweet candy canes and satin bows
Hang from boughs of fir or pine
Where elfin dolls and teddy bears
Survey surroundings from their boughs
With quaint chalets and paper stars
Made with glitter by tiny hands
With a loving touch to weave love's spell
Into hearts of all who see
These fragile gifts
That so carefully hang
By China bells and Christmas geese,
Stern toy soldiers and horns of brass,
Skating bears and soaring doves,
A reindeer with his red nose
Blinking -
Glittering tree of holiday wonder
Brought from the forest
Of evergreen
Decked with ornaments,
Made from memories,
Now a Christmas vision
In the hearts
Of children ever young.
He tied the booze all on
You read it right
Christmas Eve night
Grandma can be very persuasive
She got Santa to indulge in a drink
Grandma stated, “Santa was hers for tonight, and kids will have to wait
Heaven’s sake
Santa was going to be her date
Santa was sipping Egg Nog in taste being a sip and completely under its spell
Flat out drunk
To make matters worse, Grandma baked rum cookies full of rum
Santa tied it on
What would Ms. Claus say if she knew or witnessed?
That’s another story
Grandma and Santa both drunk
I see why Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Santa has double parked his sleigh with the reindeers
Now city trouble could erupt.
Santa has that night ride, but he is so drunk, he can’t steer and disoriented
He can’t maneuver and be drunk
The principle is for cars will be for steering sleighs
Santa doesn’t even remember that it is Christmas eve and his mission is to the kids all around the world
Grandma wanted Santa’s full attention
How is that possible when they both were drunk
They both crashed on the living room couch knocked out
Santa was in no position even move himself
Grandma’s idea of dash was falling asleep
Santa definitely would be warm in the winter night
His temperature was beyond the norm
Hate to sound like a I love Lucy dialog, but I have a plan
I will be Santa tonight in taking Santa’s place
I can’t let any child be disappointed
Alright reindeer, prepare to fly
Pursue together
Don’t look at me like I am crazy
I am desperate
Off into the night skies
Winter winds who are wise
Let us maneuver without delay
I will explain to Santa after this day
Merry Christmas to all to all, you know the rest.
...that builds its scaffolding within
neuro-rivulets
brain tidy
or caught in random whims
to form a sense of self
memory, where it resides
with packed up boxes of old photos
sometimes in mistakes made
that rub me the wrong way
like the gray torn threads of frozen seams
no microscope needed
recalling
a spring of sprawling promises
in a stubbled field where lovers once cooed
memory tousled like skipping ropes abandoned
or in your grandmother's hands craddling tea
fitting thoughts of tip-toed dancing
or childhood blips of snatching snowflakes
on tongues and lashes
sometimes the shoes it wears are boots in war song blues
or slippers that breeze through rosebud dreams
sleighs down hills
and sugar apples at Halloween
beyond the frame of what has ceased
memories like rock yokes about our necks
or the morning bread on which to feast
Gearing up to what should be magical
Special winter to be a first of firsts
Brand spanking new at the grand-parent thing
Marshmallow snowsuits, sleighs and Santa Claus
First fluffy snowflakes falling from above
The Christmas tree lit up with shiny balls
Starring our nine-month old baby darling
Picturing with glee the sheer confusion
Crazy folk coaxing him to be wreckless
Bows, ribbons and coloured flashy paper
A few minutes of this and he’ll get bored
To make him magnificently happy
He just wants a cardboard box and cookie
Our Christmases will never be the same
Knowing next year he’ll be more into it
Now we just drool at all the photo ops !
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted for contest MY WINTER sponsored by VIV WIGLEY - November 17, 2017 - RANKED 5TH
Twin, silver cathedral bells, sway and chime.
As every note peals out, clear and sublime.
No winds blow through the sky, this silent night.
The peaceful heavens, filled with a celestial light.
Arm in arm, down the icy lane we do walk.
Heart to heart, our souls they seem to talk.
A pair of happy cardinals, one red, one gold.
Go bobbing through the snow, so white, so cold.
Along the hillside, stands rows of frosted pine.
The fields, blanketed in diamonds, a vision divine.
Couples, young and old, seated in horse-drawn sleighs.
Making new memories, and reminiscing their by-gone days.
Nestled so close together, like two turtledoves.
All bundled up, with warm scarves and gloves.
Amongst white winter lands, we two do wander.
While our light hearts, are growing ever fonder.
Written for Isaiah Zerbst's contest - "Let It Snow-12 Paintings of Winter"
This poem was inspired by the painting-"Christmas Day" by John Ritchie