Long Yule Poems
Long Yule Poems. Below are the most popular long Yule by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yule poems by poem length and keyword.
In ancient times, marked in Celtic clans
There are stories told, and legends formed
And rituals would unfold
The apples were pressed, to make an ale for wassail toasts
To warm the host, when snow skimmed off the wind
This was when the whole world measured time
This is when the light would turn around
This is where the past would come undone
Where a spinning earth would mark a new beginning
Let's go back in time, to when it all began
Take me to the breaking of new dawns
There are moments keen with memory as bright as fire
Scalding pagan songs as the Druids worshipped sun
Reverse o' time, as ebbing is reborn
A returning journey sails across the sky
Deep within harsh winters steely breath
Let me meditate, and join a dance among the trees
I'll hide my face, a masquerade, a mask in covered straw
Disguise the Mummer's call, with chants of Celtic lore
Where the Yule log fire burns for twelve dark days
And ashes kept, the next year blessed
Weave the ivy and the holly branch once more
The wreaths are made to hang upon the doors
To keep all strong, against all spirits dire
So when spring arrives, seeds will sprout and grow
Oh, radiant sun, stretch the day, shorten night
Return earth's darkness into light
This is where the light will turn around
This is where the past now comes undone
For Debbie's contest "Winter's Holy Days"
Celtic/Winter Solstice
The soft melancholia of frost calls
As eyes poignant carry much reverie,
. I track my sighs, my tears from dim light
When longing fondles my threadbare sky --
Mama, Dad, and siblings appear as light
This precious grace blazing on Christmas time ;
While remaining kin whispers
Of past bliss __ pecan pies baked to thrill,
Gifts hidden from Dad's red sack __
The hope of winter's tender embrace
endures remnants from angst's prowl ...
yet kindly released through candles lit
For each beloved one 'neath our old tree.
.
Somehow, new stars roam to unfold
the treasure of calm and joyful musings-
Strengthened by sweet glory of
their light filtering through...a Yule ever warm.
On beginning to compose a new poem...
Assaying thoughts gambol,
scuffling as in an affray
née crushing, jockeying, stampeding...
demanding equal airplay
gushing as metaphorical think
spigot turned on full force airway
thru totally tubular cerebral
microcosmic aisleway
vesicular conduit fifty
plus shades of gray
exhaling sigh of relief, cuz
transcending writer's block
innovative talent with words
did once again allay
needless panic, where yours truly
finds himself punchdrunk
in some dark alleyway,
an unfortunate fate
Matthew Scott alway
avert reminding myself
to utilize ujjayi breath
hard driving gateway
into Pranayama practices
analogous to make
emotional transit thru
golden itty bitty
teensy weensy archway
infinitesimal impossible mission
to pinpoint areaway,
yet crisscrossing meditative
zen zone an array
of utmost nirvana
will never lead effortless
mantra buffeted concentration
not lead astray
and matter of fact
lightness of being
scaling metaphorical kickstarting
rah height aweigh
up yonder within
outer limits twilight zone
re: supraconsciousness
keeping at bay
non intrusive thoughts
ruff lee collaring, mimicking belay
boring bonafide dog obedience training
pant tum miming (think) begging
for limp bizkit, thus
canine loosens seat belt buckle
one notch braving violating
no trespassing sign
despite petsmart restriction
heavy populated wall tint
head nab yule Haitian
made Christmas benday
eerily resembling voodoo
cursed poppet summoned
if anybody doth betray
not being spellbound
hence, blithely skipping
reading future poetry (mine)
magic edict I dost bewray.
upon one or other posterior cheeks
of ma bony derriere no lie,
the sharp pain of the needle
stoically I bore, while my
thoughts adrift upon cerebral raft
of mental weaknesses de nigh
yule lovely bones epitomized
by refusal to eat -
no hands could pry
jaws of death clutched stranglehold
on life without bing shy,
heavily impinged ability
to function, and fatigued
when aye did try
to exert myself even minimally,
and now wonder why....
An accomplice devilishly game
more dishabille coaxing
than any bon mot
inside Kapellmeister Matthew Scott
possessed upper hand.
lack of will power
to expunge did rot
exhausting cerebral dual
nihilistic paradigm plagued
ever since a tot.
Mindset robbed positive growth
development locked with lost weight
indifference affected gamut of other persons
ambition to terminate tender teen
dominated, wrought asunder
aim toward deadly state
impinged witnessing barely squeaking
thru majority grades rate
to fail paid poor dividends reaped
Absent perseverance found pate
never sought academic support,
hence high school diploma hate
to acknowledge, when
no effort made plus spectral
of near invisibility
did NEVER steal a kiss nor date.
Thus an attempt for companionship
(even if limited to online realm
reasonable rhyme I tried to create
also cathartic, holistic, and therapeutic
courtesy linkedin words
mental anguish I alleviate.
Marvellous Monika Madam
Millennium, asylum of powerful persons in school.
One of the inspiring personalities in its tool
Is Monika madam with her luring qualities skillful:
Smile, courage, oratory adroitness beautiful.
Full of compassion, knowledge, craft and rule
For betterment of the institution in whirlpool.
She strives always in her own Millennium yule,
Helps problems disappear quickly like fuel.
With keen observation picks out a dirty fool
Punishes with care, keeping self-esteem tool
At hand. A silent workaholic vice principal
Is never seen in vicinity. A hardworking cool.
She hates any deleterious, putrid person's drool;
She is the third who touched my mind in school,
And turned my negativity into assured babool.
Ever smiling, grinning, joyful lady with wonderful
Charming face like Punam, with a simper cool.
In life's windy winter is like a safeguarding wool
Increases warmth, coziness, comfort after school.
With Seema, Sushil, Jaimin, Hardik, Amit and Kekul
Creating wonders with her experience and example.
She touched me when I cried in knee deep trouble
With myself alone - a afflicting, agonizing pool.
Wishing god to create safest path for such cool,
Confident, cheerful, substantial, decisive wool.
Millennium, asylum of powerful persons in school.
‘Twas close to the day when Buba Claus,
His red nose and Bowie knife shining,
Would be off to fill the manly's hearths,
With bacon for their frying.
The ground was bare of snow or ice,
The sky was clear of reindeer.
But Buba Claus was loading his sleigh,
Real high, with good stout Yule beer?
Buba Claus was out in force,
His NRA cronies in tow,
To fill naughty radicals stockings,
With tiny bits of coal.
Cigars dangled from their lips,
A spittoon he placed by their feet,
And, before the sleigh rose off the ground;
They tossed in another side of beef.
Each carnivore, they laughingly swore;
Would have their fill this year,
And Bambi blanched as He flew by,
While Teddy Bears ran in fear!
Over New Canaan His courses flew,
Past the homes of vegetarians;
And down their chimneys they did toss;
The views of Libertarians!
And when the last haunch was placed,
Upon the spits of the mighty,
His spat his cud of gnarly gum,
Into the spittoon real tidy!
Then he flew off with a Ho, Ho, Ho,
And, not the ones for plowing
Cause Buba Claus had his own ideas
Of all Santa's sissy endowings!
Christmas is creeping in.
I’ve seen my first quality street tin.
The John Lewis advert is out
And the motorised reindeers about.
Shop windows glitter and glow,
Ladbrookes give odds on the snow,
The eyes of the new generation
Are fixed on the latest PlayStation
Mariah Carey is on every show
That pumps out from the radio.
Signs on the roundabouts point
To the nearest Christmas tree joint.
Loft ladders are let down once more
To retrieve the decs from their store
Dads swear in temper and stress
“How could the lights get in this mess ? “
Will there be any turkeys left
Or will the table look bereft ?
Must dig out the walnut cracker
And get my nails booked for a lacquer .
Christmas films on every channel
Full of righteous, festive, flannel
In which life’s drama and life’s dread
Is all made right with gingerbread.
Cinnamon taints everything
Oh Hark - the herald angels sing
But there’s little Christmas love or grace
When you cannot find a parking space.
Supermarkets fill their shelves
With stollen cakes and chocolate elves,
And blokes buy beer to stow away
That’s mostly drunk by Christmas Day.
While some begin to deck the halls
And others feast on cheese footballs
Some just sit and contemplate
How did we all get in this state ?
The days just disappear
As the Yuletide feast gets near.
The shopping list keeps growing
And there’s endless to and froing
Time to pour that glass of Sherry
Time to consult Mary Berry
To make the perfect Christmas pud
The way that only Mary could.
The pogues ring out on Christmas Eve
Shoppers bustle, wind and weave
Through busy crowds they dodge and shift
To find that perfect Christmas gift.
Carollers by the corn exchange
Suddenly come into range
Familiar carols tug the heart
With words that speak of a new start
Will Noddy Holder save the day ?
Will we escape this Yule affray ?
But don’t give up, if all else fails
You’ve got the January sales.
© Mike Miller
As long term aspiring
gurgling (stream of consciousness)
paperback writer, there doth appear
an imponderable quandary
most likely experienced
by fellow neophyte authors,
one pesky bugbear
that just dawned, (within the mind
of this former tony
MainLiner) crystal clear,
i would bet mine
bottom dollar and declare
unequivocally established writers
mentally tussled (or still do),
how to accrue “Art of the book writing deal”
contract subsequently endear
an increasing number of people,
that definitely feel drawn
to thy unique flavonoid flair
with words this scrivener displays,
where oft times decrypting
(mine block chain) dost jam
at least one cerebral cog and gear
no matter how far away from me,
this mind can telepathically hear,
colorful epithets, thus
seriously considering donning,
summoning, and trumpeting
his swiftly tailored,
harried styled interlinear
difficult to interpret ma Bella cos
mean mien, thus ready
(lock, stock and barrel)
to ship me on a one way junketeer
attired in a combination
all force he zen,
(and Caesar) knitwear
and (thrift special red tag sale) leisurewear
oh...preferably gender neutral,
or specifically frilly pink menswear
which could be either
day or nightwear
yet absolutely non gaudily
outlandish most unlike
thine convoluted other worldly
unfairly punishing stentorian
verb hose noun sense sic cull
idiomatic ling goo whist tricks
driven by a harsh grammatical taskmaster,
(nonetheless one
gentle non-slavish overseer)
summoning positive
feedback to reap peer
burgeoning my popularity,
yet without being *****
yule us, yes...of course retaining rear
penchant inventively steer
ring an unsuspecting reeder
agonizingly testing their
pay shunts, perhaps inducing her/him
to race out the door like a a mad person
clad with (impeach 45) underwear
calling for men/women in white coats
to lock up Matthew Scott Harris
possibly commuting his
long runonsentence tea
ching fellow inmates without ten year!
~ can I help you?
"... I'm looking for
a good fire..."
~ do you require
a crackle in one?
it dawned on
the DongKey
that a hotkee
was a tease
who pleased
a long time love ago
and she
"...loves a long time..."
but only when
time is right
you'll know
~ tugs a bow
what color of light
asked the merchant
giving his mule a stare
she wasn't quite sure
how his mullet
was to fair
near the kind
of fire that she
has to ware
his request was
... difficult
so she became
in sync to think
in the thick of it
a quick assault
on the fabric
he was in and
the assessment
returned as
determined
it had a rub
in his eyes real thin
is what she saw...
~ please do
come again
was all she could say
"... drop n' strip
my collars red!...."
she obliges ripe
and did where he lead
describing it right
yet not giving in
to his need...
~ I have much to do
I'll be back to you
in a while indeed
"...Rocinante!
it's time we leave!
the merchant is busy
with much to weave!"
his pride untied
she could see it
hair undone
with it's
color unfit
for that knight
nothing more
she could do
for in this
was a knot to be
a naughty time...
~ he'll come to see
"knygt erraunte"
she could hear
him say as he
and his donkey
made way...
"... green..."
she scribbles
for an order
of thread
one thousand one
for the embers bed...
he wants a girdle
the color of red...
and a rope to pull
his mule...
a tassel for his teir
by the time of Yule...
~ The Merchant
made a note of it here
shes ahead of the game
~ and he returns a year
Form:
Again, 'tis that glorious season of the year,
For sharin' love and spreadin' holiday cheer!
Time for my dear spouse to begin her ever-lovin',
Bakin' of toothsome delicacies in her trusty oven!
Some of Grandma's recipes are used in this enterprise,
'Specially the one for her scrumptious pecan pies!
She bakes a fruit cake of which I'll taste just a tittle,
But I'll sure sink my choppers into lots of peanut brittle!
An elaborate Victorian gingerbread house is created,
And cakes so soaked in rum I'll surely be inebriated!
There are spritz cookies of every size and shape.
Calories abound in the penuche over which I go ape!
A Yule tradition is a cookie call snickerdoodles.
Of these and pralines I can eat oodles and oodles!
Aromas waftin' about the house nearly drive me daffy,
As she makes cookies, walnut fudge and molasses taffy!
I'm allowed the bliss of the pots and pans to scrape,
But beyond that from the kitchen I must escape!
To sample all that stuff my palate is just itchin',
But I'm unceremoniously invited out of the kitchen!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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