And you may be decking the halls with a girl named Holly!
I put the balls on the tree
Wrapped it in tinsel and lights
I put the gifts neath the tree
Wrapped like Arabian Nights
I put the cookies near the tree
Except for two or three bites
I put two stockings for me
Feeling within my rights
I hung notes on the tree
Pled for gifts with jigabites
I went to bed fin'ly
But first drank myself tight
Please hurry up old Santa bee
Hurry up I won't bite
My tree is hung with balls
the malls are strung with madness
for the latest greatest
advertising scam
no Christmas ham
grade A prime
Here my man
I'll buy you a coffee
It's cold tonight
and I have time
Oh Christmas tree
The tree of lights
Graced with many bulbs so bright
Candy canes
Angels bow
Sparkly trinkets gently bestow
All decorated with this thread
Dangling ever spontaneously
All is said
From each branch
A thought, good wishes, all profound
Gather hands and dance around
I'm glad to see that you've came through it all Edgar, and came through it writing.
I like all of your Christmas offerings; Cav's is closest to the way that I feel about this one. I can never, ever think of anything Christmas related. Even in my Christmas stories, Christmas is consequential. Going home at Christmas reminds me of this:
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so...
The closest thing that I can think of to a spontaneous Christmas poem would be this:
This is the new world, all around us;
Passing cars and the soft light
Coming from the street bars,
Now fraying the white paths around us.
The darkening muses of the twists of trees
Seem twice as sad:
Sickle arches instead of ice-paled stars,
Holding down anything to feel
As if they were young again.
Hollering lust waves 'round
Crimson avenues, and nothing more.
We slowly drain from memory,
Like the thinning snow.
They fool famish by devouring
What is first encountered;
Never is it wholesome,
Never shall it take that first famish away.
Joyeux Noël.
I spend the entire year recalling Rimbeaud's poetry calling for
"to adore, the first to adore -
Christmas on the Earth."
I watch the Alistair Sim version of "A Christmas Carol" anytime, even in July.
I can hardly wait to set up a tree and string the lights.
But I feel entirely feckless when it comes to expressing my devotion to this, the best day of the year. Once a brother of mine cursed and yelled at me for welcoming the first breath of the season with a snatch of song: "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas." He ranted for about fifteen minutes. I did not argue back; he was too miserable for reasoning. But, for six months that incident stuck in my craw. Finally I said, "If I can't convert him in real life, I can do it in a novelette." And so I wrote "Ebenezer's Ghost." It is apparently not commercial, but I like it anyway. I thought last month of posting it here, but it is too long for the internet.
I would weep like a child if ever I thought there could be no more Christmas. My wife feels the same way. She expresses most of her spirit through doing for our children and their children. Anyhow, happy writing, folks. Please keep them coming.
edgarblythe,
You are so tender and sensitive, you make one wish to "wrap you up in arms and just hug and hug"!!!!
Though Christmas may be secular,
no need to use "vernecular"
for "joy", "spirit" and "good will",
we all must climb our moral hill.
If Christmas gives us just impressions,
let's just hope it teaches lessons.
I love Rimbaud, btw, edgar, but he wasn't terribly kind to the Jews.
He was young, I forgive him for his fine, fine words.
I haven't read him in many years, except a couple of poems. I guess I forgot about that. Well, I choose to disagree with him in that respect. - Of course he was young. I don't think he was terribly old when he expired (croaked).
theollady -
I yam what I yam. Thanks, by the way.
He did write some beautiful stuff. I have the Complete Works. I think he was in his thirties when he bought the farm.
Rimbaud, Rimbaud,
Allo, allo?
If you can hear me,
you can see me.
Send us some nice Christmas verse,
don't be lengthy, don't be terse,
just your wishes for mankind,
loving thoughts, thank god they're blind.
I also like Ezra Pound (what I can understand of him) - and again I have to disagree with him in that he was dubbed a fascist.
please no more walls
what if the berlin wall came down
in every heart in every town
every life on sacred ground
what if there were no more walls
but if there were no more walls - -
i dreamed the fields were aleays green
where the cruel wars once had been
children in happy play now always seen
there were no berlin walls
no berlin walls of the heart
what if the walls began to fall
what if our love could change it all
new world beyond recall
what if there were no walls
but if there were no walls - -
I don the body electric
becoming cool and metric
My actions so eclectic
I fairly ooze into a space
My actions all cool and tantric
Make others pithecantric
Til friend Joe nails my antic
"Hey cool dude you forgot your face"
Time's chance
will not stop
as breath by breath
the petals drop
sad men dream
of happy scenes
contented men
waken to screams
the men that see
from outward in
live the dreams
held deep within
You outdid yourself today, Doug.
I look on your face
To see where you are
I look for a trace
Of sand on a star
I see only love
As I always do
I kiss all your love
As I always do
I look on your face
To see where you are
I see not a trace
Of sand on a star
#1
when i look at you
i know my life is through
the pain always digs into
what is cruel and true
#2
you made the earth you made the sky
and yet you let my best friend die
you know my thoughts you know my pain
and yet you let it happen again
