Poetry Tuesday/Blogmas 2018 – Day 25 #christmas #blogmas #blogmas2018 #christmas2018 – Christmas Truth

During this special time of year,

We hold our loved ones dear.

To give a gift is better than to receive.

In true spirit, we believe

The greater meaning of the season,

The central meaning and reason

Is Jesus’s birth

On this earth.

Like the babe wrapped up warm,

We can weather any storm

If all throughout the year

We keep the meaning clear–

Lights and tinsel on the tree,

Pretty though they may be,

Pale in comparison

To God’s only begotten son.

–written in 2017

Merry Christmas!

 

Poetry Tuesday – The Greatest Gift

Everyone gathered, young and old,

Around the Christmas tree topped by a star of gold.

Smiles spread across faces; the air was light and warm,

For it was many years ago the Blessed Babe was born.

Content with what they had heard,

They could now rest assured

That peace and goodwill toward all men

Would prosper as long as love would never end.

It seemed the snow falling gracefully had a way

To bring magic to this wondrous day.

The family thought of all the years all had cared

As those happy and sad memories they shared.

As the little children opened their gifts,

Oh, how high the spirit within lifts.

All those happy years seemed from other lands

As the little boy held the picture in his hands.

“Mommy?” he asked. “What happened here?

Where are all the people who shared in that cheer?”

“Oh, dear child of mine,

Sadly, things have changed with time.

All the elders are long gone,

And all the children have grown and moved on.

The winters have become so cold,

And Grandma’s little cottage was sold.

All the decorations were taken down,

And family has moved out of town.

I know things are not the same,

But one very important thing does remain:

The Greatest Gift, the Child of Love,

The Divine Savior from the Lord up above.”

Poetry Tuesday – A Gathering of Friends

The time is upon us once again

When shorter days mark another year’s end.

“Not enough hours in the day”

Is often all we have to say.

Commercialism and materialism

Seem to cloud true holiday realism.

Impatience in the checkout line,

Illegal parking by a no parking sign,

Running and rushing from here to there,

Never having a single moment to spare–

All this sounds familiar to us,

But what is up with all this fuss?

Do we still hear the voices of Heaven

Like we did when children of seven?

Do we still see the wonders all around

That God has blessed this earth to abound?

“Today is different,” we remark,

For a holiday is a time to embark

On a journey down Memory Lane

And step away from the world insane.

No doubt, the spirit will reside

In a happy household’s inside

Around a table of family and friends,

A gathering that, by tomorrow, ends.

Come tomorrow, will we suddenly forget

And later wallow in pity and regret

For having thought that one mere day

Away from the world’s twisted way

Would be enough time to truly cherish

The time with loved ones before they perish?

Sadly, caught up in living life on Earth,

We don’t think of our heavenly rebirth.

Like waves in the ocean,

We merely repeat the motion,

Until one day we crash upon the shore.

Then life is over, we live no more–

Well, life as we know it, anyway,

So do more than cherish one holiday.

Truly live life as it was meant to be.

Open your eyes and plainly see

That earthly life is too short,

So don’t you your chance abort

To enjoy today’s gathering of friends,

Knowing it mirrors Heaven and never ends.

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Poetry Tuesday – The Only Truth

We find it strange

How the tear falls

A minute too late

After the flood has begun.

Sad, little, inquisitive minds,

Wouldn’t you like to know

Where the real danger lies?

A black, rotten heart

Falls to pieces in its own decay

And the remnants are broken down

To dirt on the ground.

It goes to show

What all our pride stands for

When the sand is washed

Down some undiscovered river

To the ocean’s forgotten depths.

Then it is too late,

Too deep, to reach far enough

Down into the damp, desolate hell

We create for ourselves.

Only then too late

Were our eyes truly opened,

Only to be blinded

By the fog of our sins

And the heavy blackness

Of our impurities.

This is the only truth

We succumb to.

–written in 1999

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Poetry Tuesday – So is Life

Window, pillar, window, pillar

Walking down a long corridor

Too black ahead to see

Light, dark, light, dark

 

Ecstasy, depression, ecstasy, depression

Leading on a whole life

With no future to see

Light, dark, light, dark

 

Sinusoidal curve

Up, down, up, down

 

Never-ending

No commitment

Day, night, day, night

Infinity

So is life.

 

-written in 1999

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Poetry Tuesday – The Broken Mistress

This burning blood upon my broken face

Has killed this sour soul with disgust and disgrace.

Your gaping eyes gaze with longing so true,

But, my dear, no love resides in you.

Do your simple soul and malevolent mind

Lack any comforting cure that can bind

My poor, petty existence to your lust,

For my battered body, for only you I trust?

You should have long ago felt my pain

Penetrating your skull, driving you insane.

You did once call us one,

But I fear all is done.

Your own foolish desire breaks and devours

All my strength of life, love, and willpower.

-written in 1999

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Poetry Tuesday – Autumn’s Dance

Autumn’s Dance

Like grains of sand flowing
Through the hourglass,
Counting down another second
That beats into a day,
The leaves dance above.
Golden sunshine hues their yellow
To brightest beauty.
The autumnal ballet continues
As the branches partner themselves
With the wind,
Whistling through the willows.
The clap of thunder echoes,
The distant darkness rushing
Over the blue sky,
Washing out the sun.
Their frantic frenzy forces T
The wanderer to wonder:
Why so quick to change?
A mesmerizing moment of beauty is lost easily,
Those grains dropping again.
The eyes close to endlessness.
The storm passes,
Fading and folding into the background,
A drowning memory.
Beyond the confusing chaos,
Cluttered thoughts unwind
Into the resonating resilience of youth yearned for.
Children’s laughter lingers
As they restlessly romp in the leaves,
The rustling and the wresting,
The past and the present,
Mingled magically.
This weary wanderer is not so lost.

  • written Oct. 2016

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