Family Quintain (English) Poems

The years have passed since your last Mother's Day;
       to date, they make up fifty-two long years.
With each, the...

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Christmas is a special time of the year
Where world-wide’s grandiose feasts swell
People cook, decorate overwhelmingly and cheer
Spirit of love, hope, joy and sharing dwell
Family and...

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I keep a memento of Christmas past,
it is an ornate old Christmas ball for the tree;
for, through my mom's family it has been passed.
Oh,...

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One of my favorite things on Christmas Day
Is sitting in my comfortable recliner chair
Watching the grandchildren as they play,
Running hither and yon, here then there
Teaching...

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Sparks of imagination fill the agile mind
Exploding in marvelous creative energy,
Without them where would we find
The incredibly fine Poetry Soup synergy
Molding us into a warm,...

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A few reminders of Christmases past --
Broken ornaments we could not set free
Once perfect tree-top angel, I’m aghast,
Bulbs too large for this down-sized tree
Children gone,...

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Joyous holidays, wondrous indeed
Family reunions of loving bliss
Meeting together gladly as agreed
Every member promised never to miss~~~
Now, each heart reaches for dear Brod and Sis.

Though...

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This Yuletide, a pine (freshly-cut) we’re going to trim.
We’ll make it bright with lights and with our gaiety
and hang some tinsel sparkling from each limb
of...

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Winter's chill breath clouded my windowpanes
Snowdrifts covered Autumn's shades of umber
I listened to music, composed in wistful strains
My family were all abed, snuggled in slumber...

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Apples, oranges, nuts; awesome fragrances.
And the spirit of love and joy was of no human origin.
Our father did not express tenderness, but Christmas
convinced us that...

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Christmas is almost here,                                          ...

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Tell me, friend, just when all the right and wrong
 of the good old days were revised and spawned?
You recall, those days when kids wore...

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Winter came with its usual cold, rain, ice, snow, and pain.  By late Winter          ...

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Before iron winter commands the land
The brown ground sparks a bittersweet blaze
Bonfire breezes cross in smoky strands
Where nut stashing squirrels pause to gaze
On museums of...

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(a friend of mines son died some years ago while out with his dad working on the rubbish truck)..

IF HE STILL HAD A VOICE..
The day...

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