Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Possibility Tree


THE POSSIBILITY TREE

There is a tree somewhere
Hung with all the ornaments
That pre- or post- trimming
Were broken
Crushed underfoot.
Sprung loose from the wire
Batted around by the cat
Lying in pieces in the box.

We gave up on these ornaments
Scooped them up
Tossed them
Vacuumed well
Maybe shed a private tear
Fussed at a careless child
Shopped E-Bay for replacements.

I believe that someone
Call him Santa’s Super-Glue-Man
Busily repairs all the broken ornaments
With the brightest metallic glue
Silver, gold, copper
Just imagine this tree
Lights reflected in jagged glue lines
Some say the repairs
More beautiful than
The ornament all by itself.
I have for you the top entries
In a contest to name this tree;
Tree of Lost Causes
The Reunion Tree
Tree of Many Crackpots
The Tree that Zigged and Zagged.
You, my dearest friends
Get to choose a name
Or make one up
That might create
A private holiday space
Where all our repairs
Don’t seem quite so impossible.
Happy Holidays
Wherever you are
However you celebrate.

By: Mary L. Barnard 
12/1/2010

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Poem: Christmas on the Farm, 1955

Christmas on the Farm, 1955


Leaden skies turn into spitting rain.
Daddy stokes the fire and grins.
Got the day off.
Get to eat my fill.

By Judith Stanton                                                           
12/18/10                                                                        

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Poem: Gold LIght IV

GOLD LIGHT IV


"Unto us a child is born..."

Every ordinary human birth, a miracle,
that out of the full womb comes this
head of hair the mother's pangs and
wrinkled brow have birthed. That little
cry, the mother's arms reaching, her shift
from agony to joy, from seeking comfort
as she clings to the hands of husband and
mother, to comforting her baby, quickly
wrapped to lie upon her breast:
"Oh, Bobby, it's okay. We love you, Bobby."
The human greediness for love, there
from the beginning. All our lives we fight
to know that we are loved, and then,
once reassured, we turn to pour our
blessings and affection on young and old
alike.
The cold clear air of December, the sun
alive in the sky light. The carved Russian
goose, suspended, its wings spread
for flight, moves slowly. Outside the pines
wave their brushes, the dead grasses stir,
the last ragged brown leaves of the oak
dance.
Our child arrived safely. Wrapped in his
blanket, he turns his head toward food,
mouth open, seeking his first experience of love:
to be fed, to be held and warmed.
I celebrate birth
at Christmas, the Nazarene's, who shaped
our centuries, our laws and sense of justice,
our wars for equality and liberty, our value
for each person, no matter his race or religion,
his clothes or income level, his education or
background-poor or luxurious.
I also celebrate
the turning of the sun back toward our planet,
the saving leap of the goat in Capricorn.
And the sun that warms us and keeps green
life even when the earth is frozen, the air
chill with hoarfrost.
We live and try to love,
and when we fail, we are forgiven. We wait for
the coming of love, its reckless strewing of the
flowers of spring, its Madonna of the Earth in
her red robes, the blissful dance of the goddesses
in their Grecian gowns. Hades must surrender
the bride he stole away, and Paris has not yet
started the Trojan War, a blissful moment
when Spring arrives mid-winter.

By: Judy Hogan                                                    
12/4/10                                                               

Friday, December 3, 2010

Mary['s Secret


MARY’S SECRET

mother of wisdom
more strong than weak, more bold than meek,
she knew she was worthy
MARY PONDERED
Voices of custom and convenience
had no hold over her.
She listened to angels.
GOLD, FRANKINCENSE AND HER
three Wise Women arrive
see the Light of who you are
bear gifts for your journey

By Sharon Blessum
12/3/10

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Christmas poem 12/01


A Christmas Lament



An old, old story that has been oft retold.
Of a special time, of a night still and cold.
A new-born infant, and where does he lay
But out in a stable, in a manger of hay.
NO PAYMENTS UNTIL FEBRUARY! DISCOUNT! BLUE LIGHT SPECIAL! TOYS R US! SPECIAL! COUPONS! SAVINGS! NO MONEY DOWN!
Calm and serene the dear Mother lay there
Hearing the sounds in the cold, night air.
Of shepherds and wise men coming to see
This special new baby, this Savior to be.
EVERYTHING FOR THE ENTIRE FAMILY! FREE SHIPPING! 20% OFF
CREDIT CARDS ACCEPTED! XMAS SPECIAL! ATM! WHILE THEY LAST!
Each year at this time, we retell this story
How Angels were singing, in splendor and glory.
And like them our loud hosannas we raise
And fill our churches with music and praise.
But then immediately head back to the store
To buy and buy, to get more and more.
Until sometimes we really don’t know
Just how much we have, for it's all just for show.
0% APR! STORE OPENS AT 6:00 AM! FREE GIFT WRAPPING!
2 FOR 1 SALE! RING RING DING DING! SUPER SPECIAL!
Perhaps it's just me, but I don't understand
The hustle and bustle that's all through our land.
Forget the baby, for that's long gone by
The important thing now is how much can we buy.

An old, old story that has been oft retold.
Of a special time, of a night still and cold.
But don't ask of us where does he lay
For we no longer know. We have lost the way.

By: Al Manning            
12/1/10