Long Socialchristmas Poems
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I Remember the Day
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
I can remember the day like yesterday,
When the snowfall brought much glee,
One Florida church made a wish that year.
Flakes of snow they wanted to see.
Praying with hope, they entreated their God,
Asking together on knees.
“We are so poor and no gifts will there be
For the Christmas tree this year,”
But they trusted in Heavenly Father's love.
I in their eyes great faith saw--
There were dreams that they dreamed and truly believed
“Send Christmas snow, God please.”
To show their great faith in God for the snow,
Paper snowflakes one by one,
Appeared each day in the bright sunlight
Thrilling, enchanting, and fun.
Then, many other people came,
When the snowflakes they did see,
They stayed to pray with those poor that day.
Snowflakes taped where others could see.
Some people not nearly as faithful as these
Came mocking the poor folks’ glee.
And that was the reason (as many know,
In this place of poverty)
That the snow wish to God was repeated
Saying, “Snowflakes, send to us please.”
And the snowflakes they cut for the window with care
Were like snowflakes school children make
With glittery paper of white
And one of the mockers that came there to fight
Remembered the good Lord above
Then, joined in the joy shared that night
And helped make many snowflakes with love.
Thus, Christmas never comes that I don't think about
The snowflakes that appeared one by one.
For the wish that they made was like no other wish
Those poor who had faith to believe
And all that they asked for from Father above
Were snowflakes in Florida showing God's love.
And that's what He gave them Christmas Day.
In the snow that God gave children played.
This is based on a true story... It took place at a State Welfare Office, not a Church.
It was Christmas Eve; I was a prisoner of my own divide.
Lost in mind, clad in drunken sadness, caged up inside.
Alone and forlorn my thoughts laden with whiskey lies,
Memories seem so distant, only a week since goodbyes.
Christmas tree glistening, blurry in my vision of tears,
Flashing lights bright, neighbors Christmas party cheers.
No presents or joy in this household upon this night.
Sorrows, misguided gulps of liquor, cloud my sight.
Heartbroken, gloomy devouring the demon filled drink.
No more, no less, my eyes roamed over as I did think.
Hopelessly lost in a whirlwind of memories of no more,
No more, love by a lover, no daughter to teach the score.
Left me in a house, no longer our home that we shared,
Only I and this half-empty bottle, feeling impaired.
She left me, taking my child a thousand miles away.
While here in this house of torture, me and myself stay.
Every corner a recollection blinks by crystalline light.
Splintered and speckled by the twinkling star so bright.
Atop the now barren tree which had shined with joys.
Years before cluttered with wrappers, boxes and toys
I slam a big gulp down my throat, since this was my first.
Night of my debut to the evil of whiskey blinding thirst,
Never before had drunkenness been a quest or even a try,
This night she devoured my soul, not wanting ever to cry.
Intoxication was a desire, though not ever beyond joy.
My virgin body of drink has choked me unable to deploy.
Sour mash tears wash down my face, wiping my eyes.
I hear my built up agony; pour out in inhuman cries.
User Name Cecil Hickman
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever
Christmas Traditions
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
It was the Day after Thanksgiving and every store in town.
Had planned to opened wide its doors before daylight could be found.
It was an outlandish sight to see people sleep overnight.
Shoppers camping on sidewalks people waiting in the moonlight.
The Christmas shopping season was formally set in motion!
Hustling, bustling, getting, and grabbing: bikes, pipes, and lotion.
TVs, wreaths, computers, briefs, trees, ties, anything money buys.
Some starry-eyed children sway singing with Santa beneath skies.
Meanwhile, Jesus Christ, the nativity, and live manger scenes
Attempt to teach people what the Christmas season really means.
A few carolers come singing along their neighborhood streets.
And the folks that they sing too, with big smiles, surprise them with treats.
A God loving soul amid the clamorous celebrations,
Gathers his family, to make costumes and preparations.
Mary, Joseph, Jesus, shepherds, and the three Kings with gifts, myrrh.
Reverently, they reenact our blessed Savior's Holy birth.
This poem was written for Carolyn Devonshire's Christmas in Your Town contest.
Poetic form: A narrative written in couplets.