Mangers Poems

Dioses

but we should be able to go back
review with now mature eyes
those infinite mangers
where we were dumped
at the end of the treadmill
in the drying area
of the assembly line.

we should be able to see
what expressions our matrices had
if they were happy and smiled
or kept a stern manner
an absent look
serious and frowning.

because the gods
were always extruders
injecting flesh, bones and fluids
in our humanoid molds
and we being just the elusive fruits
generated in series by the macabre verb
from a divine pack of sociopaths
deciding to engender us
to play to make it hurt.

I Am Not My Brother's Keeper

I am not my brother's keeper
or my sister's either...
they've got their own lives to live.

But if they need my help
I'll always be there for them...
they're always welcome to all that I can give.

Of course I could make conditions...
set up harsh restrictions
and make them pay right through the nose.

But this isn't where I come from...
dogs in mangers don't have much fun...
life's river is only happy when it flows.

So I'm not my brother's keeper
or my sister's either...
they've got their own lives to live.

But if they need my help
I'll always be there for them...
they're always welcome to all that I can give.

Leave Christ In Christmas

Leave Christ In Christmas
By: Tom Wright
12-16-2005

A twinkling light of stardust shown
As our hope within the ebon night,
Pointing to a mangers precious stone
This star was much like a beacon light.

Wise men traveled both night and day
But mode made not their journey swift.
Arriving at the place the Christ child lay
They beheld the world’s best Christmas gift.

So this year during the Christmas season
Seek not for things designed to please us.
For Christmas is not without good reason
Have you given your loved ones Jesus?

To those who’d take Christ from this time
Through ad omissions and thoughtless acts.
Changing words without reason or rhyme
They Shape opinions and ignore the facts.

Summer On the Farm As Related By Britches

Summer on the Farm
As Related By Britches
By:Tom Wright
8/7/2006

Britches gets up early
To greet the breaking of dawn,
A stretch, a scratch,
And if sleepy, a yawn;

Old Elsie the cow
Anxiously awaits his pull,
He hopes when they’re done
His buckets near full;

Later he’ll throw
The chickens some scratch,
By then his mom will yell ”Pancakes”
And he’ll go eat a batch.

Tater peelings and buttermilk
Will make up scraps for the hog,
And while he’s at it
He’ll sail a biscuit to the dog.

Then with four buckles on
It’s off he goes to the silo,
For his fair entry’s ration
Of molasses and Milo. 

The gate still needs fixin
On the property that they lease,
And his mother’s making pillows 
So she’ll need down from the geese. 

He’ll re-pen that Billy
And put the piglets with sow,
Fork hay in the mangers
And head out to plow.

He’ll spend untold hours
Following a mule named Blue,
Which causes me to ponder
Who was smarter of the two?

Britches next year graduates
Bringing news quite alarming,
That whatever life’s role
It would not include farming.

An Atheist's Christmas

Frosty sky
Lush local wood, chopped
Evergreen
Fragrant pine
Fills our home with holidays
Guiding star on top

Spiced cider
Peppermint cocoa
Gingerbread
Garlands, wreaths
Holly berries sprinkle red
Festive door greetings

Mom's carols
Of babes in mangers
Three wise men
Journey far
Angels, shepherds, miracles
Tradition belongs

We are not
Grim cheerless police
Glad tidings
We offer
Yes, we say Merry Christmas
In more than one way

We believe
Goodwill moves the world
Candles lit
Wish for peace
You and I are more alike
Labels camouflage

Christmas Eve
Stockings, cookies, snow
Jesus and
Santa teach
Goodness, giving, to children
My faith lies in these.

11/27/18

Mary Virgin Mother

We are the Children of the Universe
Let loose
To tell our future 
Beneath the Skies 
Bound to earth
We build patches 
Foundation beyond great expectations 
Sailing and mailing messages in a bottle 
Across the either 
Death awaits 
In gate's so large
Graves are mangers 
Mary arches ever so subtle 
Virgin Mother

For Dead Poets That Yet Live

For Dead Poets Who Yet Live

The earth swallowed you—
spitting out seeded words
 to linger like dusty books; 
pages yellowing on rotting shelves.

Like your blood,
your ink well has dried—died.

Tomorrow 
we go in search of mangers—seeking 
the resurrected word—crying out.

Old poets—at last—die; but
their words are reborn
in the pregnant minds left behind.

Villanelle: Talk Not of the Birth of Planets Around Distant Stars

Villanelle : Talk not of the birth of planets around distant stars 

Talk not of the birth of planets around distant stars
Nor of how déchets comets shunted life to arid earth
What’s our life worth if we live in mangers as bores

Wildly lashing oceans marked the limits of our maws
When travel slithered on foot mountains did us girth
Talk not of the birth of planets around distant stars  

How many the astral bodies how shiny the lights of yores
Would clog up the firmament to keep us from eternal truth 
What’s our life worth if we live in mangers as bores

Flights of human minds forged in the blasts of quasars
Can in no way enlighten the frigidity of the hearth
Talk not of the birth of planets around distant stars

Even if life down hère could have evolved brazen bizarres
Pluck not excuses from the skies aloof to comfort us in mirth
What’s our life worth if we live in mangers as bores

Much rather stop this brilliant race from owning stars
Than believe in the sacrosanct rule of space by earth
Talk not of the birth of planets around distant stars
Will life be chaste if we stoke more monstrous maws


© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014

Christmas Cheer

Christmas Cheer
(Ricks 10-36)

It’s Christmastime
Ornaments placed
The church bells chime
Shepherds kneeling in awe
Jesus sleeping in the mangers straw
Where three Wiseman came to see
This child of Galilee
That night of love
Welcome king
Angels sing 

Candles glow
Goodies baking
Hearts and faces aglow
Trimmed tree and mistletoe
Children having fun in the snow
Christmas brings such joy and cheer
Santa was already here
Gifts beneath the tree
Joyful night
Starlit bright



Merry Christmas to one and all!


“Ricks 10-36” 10.17.2011 by Erich J.Goller
10 lines--36 words--2/2/4/4/6/6/4/4/2/2 
Rhyming lines 1/3-4/5-6/7-9/10--
Any subject--no stanza limit--

Christmas : Santa Versus Jesus

CHRISTMAS - Santa Versus Jesus
 
The 25th of December is the day of Christmas
were we all celebrate the coming of Jesus
yet we represent that day with a roly poly little man
called Santa Claus, why do we do this ?
why is Sant Claus sitting in department stores
amusing children and spreading the Christmas spirit to all,
while the birth of Jesus Christ is forgotten as if he 
had never been born, the Bible has always been
a respected book and Christmas is a sacred day to all,
yet we give Santa carte blance over Jesus, I feel
there needs to be change as Jesus is the religious reason 
that Christmas is being celebrated, while a pretender has
virtually taken his throne, I feel Santa Claus and Christmas 
Trees should be replace by Mangers and Jesus, to
commemorate his birth and what he eventually did to save
man from his sins, I am not a religious man but do believe
religion should replace commercial venture and Santa Claus
should be replaced by Jesus, as he is the true King of Christmas.

Reincarnation

When we were vultures
Living in mangers
You told me you'd love me 
Forever.
The seasons cry into each 
other. The sounds warp.
You become a constellation.
A morass of deep meaning,
Filling my lungs,
Untill I can barely breathe.

Winter's Wonders

White was the winter night covered in snow
Icicles dangled from eaves all aglow.
Nestled were nestlings of child and sparrow.
Twined was the bittersweet all-round the harrow.
Earnestly each tiny heart took a leap,
Rosy, so rosy, was each little cheek.
White was the winter, wondrous, sublime
On forest and field and men in their prime,
No eye lacked a twinkle, no door lacked its wreath,
Dainty hay mangers lined each pristine street.
Even the traffic pranced looking merry
Reindeer antlers on grill, noses like cherries.
Lights hung from fir trees in villages squares
Arias sprung from church choirs in pairs.
No one was maudlin, the season was fine.
Dad, “Pass the turkey and then the red wine!”

Christmas With Scrooge

On my street there are many MacMansions
Full of stuff but not many grandsons
No pets with dirty feet
Just black balance sheets
And morality they have abandoned.

These nouveau riche Ole moneyed Scrooges 
Have dinner talk of subterfuges
The poor they abhor
Not a tear on that score
No mangers please, they’ll take cruises.

No room in the Inn “Oh my what a sin”
Said the bankers foreclosing within
No bed for the King?
The streets just the thing 
Perhaps the liberals will let Him in?

Word Congress

Now children let us try again
Certain we are the canvas of earth's joys and pain
We and not I, let us try
And the find that universal voice
Outside the personal boundary 
To tell the common things of history
For we poets are much more
Than the memory of footprints on a shore

Take this thing a level up
I have no antidote for victims
But have drank applause
To victors - the heroes of our dullest hope
Rage and write the syllables of pain
From bitter shallow words
Demand a sentence fit to love
Use what you feel to say you know
Our meanings are metaphors of the world
Our words are painted canvas of the soul

Find your theme, feel where the vulture flies in you
Make dead things serve a greater purpose here
A sort of candle showing where
Our footsteps shall not stray
We are poets
With compassion beyond the worth of words
Travelers with a special light,
A gift for mangers and for cross
My flesh shall write on skins of desire
The deeper glory of the truth

Miracles

Children watch the sky
As clouds go floating by
Wishing for; wanting snow
A day of blow wind blow

Quiet while the town sleeps
Soft flakes begin with no peep
Covering the trees and street
Housetops turn from black to white

Strange things happened at night
Snowmen, large and small
Stand firmly planted on town wall
Looking like sentinels guarding town

Miracles seemed to have happened
In this small town zappened
Mangers dot the city streets
Ten commandments on Court House speak

Prayer has returned to school
People obey the golden rule
There is power in children's prayers
They wanted white and purity

God heard and saw them there

(I have no idea where this came from.  I just started writing. Rhyme sorta. Sara)

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