It ought to light up my being
With the color and passion
Of its crisp, browning magic
It ought to bring the sounds
Of fire crackle, warm abrasions
And unlimited clinks to hearths
Of every size and flavor
It ought to turn down the heat
Turn up the chill
And turn on the love
It ought to renew our sense
Of joy, togetherness and those
We wish could walk through the door
Just once more
It ought to gather all the lost sheep
Whether dislocated, disaffected or disowned
Into a herd, bonded with purpose
It ought to create human nature
Along the same lines as Mother Nature
Turning green with envy into
Subtle tones of peace
It ought to allow pumpkins
And turkeys and trees and menorahs
To dance the dance, and hug it out
It ought to be autumn..
(10/21/17)
Bells
Shiny silver bells with glistening red bow
Are dangling from my entry gate
Though silently because they're faux.
But I imagine they ring and resonate
Their joyous sounds for all to hear
That give us pause to contemplate
At this busy bustling time of year
Just what it is we celebrate:
As Christians sing "O Holy Night"
And Kwanzaa honors community
While Hanukkah menorahs are all alight
My bells proclaim man's unity.
Let the bells from every steeple and tower
With hope and conviction heartily peal
And the heavens open and generously shower
Society with the grace to unify and heal.
Molly Moore
~ As the Dreidels Spin ~
Game, set and match
Here comes a fresh batch
of potato latkes, as the dreidels spin
Up comes a gimmel -- You win
Maccabees mean Victory
so many menorahs to see
Let's dance the hora and sing a song
It's Chanukah time ~ we all get along
All the houses on the block are decorated
With Menorahs or Christmas lights, except one.
Jan pushes open the door and peeks at Jimmy’s
Neon train set. He used to laugh so loudly
When Daddy had to get under the couch
To retrieve those trains!
Jim used to get irritated, when Jimmy let
Them go under the couch for fun, on purpose.
Closing her eyes, she can hear Jimmy’s hearty 3-year-old laugh.
Jim peeks in. What are you doing? He asks.
His voice is a whisper.
Telling tears are in her eyes. She cannot speak.
They go downstairs and sit on the couch,
Looking out at their neighbors' cheerfully lit houses.
Life is still happening for them. Cancer has not ruined their lives.
It is Christmas, she whispers.
Not this year, he replies.
They huddle together in their grief,
Wishing things could have been different.
Neither caring about Mary’s Son, this year.
Written 11-17-2018 Contest: Christmas Mourning
Sponsor: P.W. Awtry
carved cruicifixes,
slashed n’ sliced stars of david,
chiseled taijitus,
hacked stars n’ crescents
cleaved christs
dissected n’ shaped buddhas,
engraved menorahs
chipped n’ etched away Confucius
trimmed dharmachakras
whittled & molded muhammad
severed n’ separated astrological zodiac signs
snipped aum
chopped n’ cracked pentagrams
lopped off lotus flowers
shaved n’ grated ichthys &
pierced pentacles---
all wash away in the sink
after running warm water over them
for a little while.
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