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.
Rat-a-tat-tat, it is the sound of the dreaded, Icelandic Yule Cat.
You have to get me a jacket or shoes or something else I plead
My mother rolls her eyes. That’s a faerie tale, she says. Her face is fat.
Come on! I say, it will eat me up, I will be ripped and bleed.
My father gives me an eye roll that says he does not believe.
Polish, what does he know of this notorious evil Yule Cat that’s near?
My grandmother told me. My chest begins to wail and heave.
Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. I can hear it and nearly faint with fear
Socks, a headband, a wrist, a shirt, a blouse, something I beg.
I can hear the masticating teeth, and I nearly die with fright.
I would get you jeans, but they will be long and narrow in the leg,
My mother says after a while, then she turns off my night light.
It is Christmas Eve, and I am too afraid to close my eyes.
I should have only asked for clothes, not toys or that autograph.
If she does not keep her promise, I will be one of many who dies.
Rat-a-tat-tat sound comes right up to my ear, hot breath, and a laugh.
Just Call Me A F*****G Hip Poke Writ
Oh flibbertigibbet
damn, heil (Stuart Little) let mice
self down dagnabbit,
no matter this lactose intolerant,
conscientious, consumer and avowed kit
and caboodle - ninny vegetarian,
who lacked true grit,
cuz he craved a ham, rabbit
and cheese sandwich that hit
the bunny phone
spot (courtesy pit
tickle yule lee
of The Daily Bread
Community Food Pantry sit
chew waited at 3938 Ridge Pike
Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426)
aye red deli admit
to fear with some darkly knit
shadow of a doubt reddit
lee, about being a boot
being smidgen afrit
of some powerful jinn crit
ture, demon, nor banshee
making mincemeat out of me
(Matthew Scott Harris),
whom now wants
to make quick exit
(and if fye sprouted
wings, would flit)
cuz, yours truly did coe vit
an insatiable app pit
tight carnivorous consumption
where a craving awoke
like an addict hood needs a hit
ma tastebuds writhed with a bit
of minor seizure to let
me dentures bite to edit
mas exclusion of meat, and savor
mouth watering satisfaction
as if masticating an illicit
substance, and all the while
my awareness sans unethical
treatment of animals
went out figurative window
a disc credit
tummy sympathy for
hogtied eggs eck rubble mitt
treatment steer
ring agri business
to the mighty dollar,
where die hard
at least slaughter houses will never quit!
On the first day of Christmas
Take Advent age of Xmas countdown
On the second day of Christmas
Holly was a thorn in the side
On the third day of Christmas
Ivy was a real creep
On the fourth day of Christmas
They got a frosty reception
On the fifth day of Christmas
Three wise men proclaimed it was crackers
On the sixth day of Christmas
Who is Mary Christmas? Why Carol’s cousin of course
On the seventh day of Christmas
Yule be getting excited – it’s Claus and effect
On the eighth day of Christmas
All presents present but bah humbugs in Christmas stockings
On the ninth day of Christmas
You snow it won’t reindeer on Christmas day
On the tenth day of Christmas
Time for silent night so sleigh bells
On the eleventh day of Christmas
Coffee-loving Prancer and Dancer are Santa’s Starbucks
On the twelfth day of Christmas
Let’s eat cold turkey and peas on earth
Ho Ho Ho!
Hot chocolate hot chocolate I like it sweet, at Yule time I'll drink it then take a back seat
beside the old tree where Santa I'll meet they'll be cookies galore for St Nick to eat
as he shimmies and jiggles on two booted feet and a face flushed like rubious beet
I'll be eager to meet him but I will not cheat as I wait for the daylight now isn't that neat !
hot chocolate hot chocolate with marshmallows too I'll watch the chimney as I quietly chew
I have coated the bricks with butter and goo so his belly will slide,
(wink) he'll know what to do !
Down in the manger the angels acrue waiting for Jesus to
make His debut
While the Three Kings are offering their three gifts on cue, dear Santa
I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you
Hot chocolate hot chocolate I like it sweet,
but when it comes to Jesus, I won't take a back seat.
This Christmas is very different
from other past Yule seasons: less cheer,
more grief welcoming uncertainty;
and unless we are disheartened in spirit,
nothing will grant us hope to steer
out ship into a tumultuous ocean of terrifying fear,
and take it to the shore of calmness and safety...
until then we must pray and stay afloat diligently.
Distance isolates us, not letting us feeling closeness,
but the warmth of thought will crackle more than logs
that roast chestnuts and enlighten unmerry souls;
no sad carols to deepen sadness,
no tears from cheeks to spread total gloom,
only joyful days of endless hugs
for ourselves and others fighting foes.
We'll finally see cherry trees and flowers bloom,
and that unborn child in a mother's womb
will see sunlight and not be laid in a tomb.
Clear sky above, crisp breeze of dawn
gently blowing on our sun-tanned skin.
Lost in the autumnal beauty before us,
we hear the leaves crackle as fire logs.
No bird songs to greet the golden-colored sunrise,
only two lonely souls walking as it grows and shines.
Many distant thoughts of Yule and gifts
escape from us with only joy to embrace.
The sunshine feels warm as the morning advances,
a few clouds appear and cast a shadow on the waves.
This path leads to a rolling hill which we ardently seek,
from here dreams never flee to disarm love's heartbeat.
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Michael J. Falotico's contest,
" Falling In Love In Fall "
THE NIGHT BEFORE
Twas the night before Christmas
Just after Yule, the winter solstice
Two big events need no poultice
Between these dates, an isthmus
All stores had now finally closed
Counters emptied of festive fayre
Shelves now nearly stripped bare
A Rudolph toy forever red nosed
Last minute gifts due for wrapping
Santa is left with a billion deliveries
His reindeer waiting in their liveries
And tired elves told off for napping
By morning, it may feel like a chore
Yet a critical task worth completing
But houses now have central heating
With no working chimneys anymore
* Paid my heed my friends for the frost giants begin their march southwards,
* and their hounds of winter ,shall Slather and bay awaiting direction from their masters
* as then ,
* they fall upon us .
* Even the sun wains back at the feel and shadow of their March.
* Our brothers the oaks stand true ,
* as these giants now put breath upon them.
* And so it is ,
* the sacred grove now sent to slumber,
* until the giants and their hounds, call for retreat.
* The longest night approaches and no advance can be made in our labours,
* For the ground is now of stone and freezing fire ice .
* We shield their attack with fur cloaks , glowing hearths and summers blessed mead .
* Our friends, family and forgiven foes gather and give thanks to the old year and for its bounty.
* Calls for the sun to return and warmth for the soil ,
* echo amongst all present .
* In the coming born year may our land , wives , and beasts be fruitful.
* Now darkness is abound,
* but for this bastion of kindred folk , the hounds of winter now tearing at the door , scream their howling and send their cold and shrills, about this protected steading .
* Grandfather places his knowing hand upon a beam "The carved runes in this lintel shall keep the frost wolves from our door, since ages past, and so mote it be" .
* All nod and agree at this given truth.
* But
* Not but for the silver light of our lady would we know anywhere else existed this darkening , he exclaims ! .
* A drum starts to beat softly as the crones of this gathered tribe begin to chant .
* Our oldest tribe member steps forward, for on this night they will carry the youngest in their arms .
* Together it will be their honour to sing for the log of Yule to then be consumed by this ,
* our holy fire .
* As the longest night starts its ending and the folk kneel beside the sacred glow messages are shouted to those who have passed through the great veil .
* They hear our shouts of love and joy , they hear us call their names as we tell them , "all is well ".
* We send our gratitude ,thanks and blessings may they be,
* as we have been, on this longest of all nights
Two different lives, from different worlds, were meant to be as one
He became her guiding star, and she became his shining sun
Once they had been strangers, but love brought them together
He had never fathered children, but quadruplets called her Mother
He brought along a gentle love, and was sure enough to give it
She brought along a crazy life, and taught him how to live it!
The day arrived, when they would wed, excitement filled the air
On the fifth Yule day, they said their vows, and end to end were there......
The children, four, came through the door, to crowd the alter floor
He pulled 5 rings, a diamond gleamed, upon her finger worn
And 4 small rings, upon 4 chains, around their necks, he swore
to love them all, and make them whole, and give them all he owned
5 Yuletide Days, 5 gifts he gave,.... 5 times the love, ...and more
__________________________________________
For Shadow's Contest: 12/3/13
A smile from a friend cheered my spirit,
And then we chatted about the season;
Then another smile caught me with it,
He must’ve smiled for a good reason.
He gave an invitation into his office,
And although he was much older,
We had similar hobbies and a vice,
Snooker, and I had a roaring whir.
He was the only atheist at the school,
Apart from one another, far away,
So I appreciated his view of yule,
And at Christmas passed by his way.
And at Uni I asked the friends I liked,
Into my room for a chat and a coffee,
When we’d reminisce past Xmas’s liked,
And disclose our presents for the tree.
James used to read the xmas story,
To me from the bible, chronologically,
I mean, first Matthew, then Luke’s glory,
Then Matthew again, then Luke to see.
‘Cos mum would make us read the bible,
Together at Christmas time, irksomely,
So we used our minds to suss the fable,
And read it sanely and intelligently.
James never let on about my question,
Of the consistency of the four gospels,
Since I was too young for that objection,
Which analysis and thought dispels.
So I’m not confused at the nativity,
Or numbed by the repeated interlude,
Given each year with naive brevity,
About a working man’s tale, crude.
So I love my friends at Christmas time,
Have discourse and exchange opinions,
About what’s happening and what crime,
Is topical, we have communications.