brilliant red leaves
spark our hopes of christmas dreams
die with the new year
they came bearing gifts for a king,
three wisemen fashionably late,
fully accoutred and attired,
wearing silks and opulent jewelry,
to kneel in the muck of a stable,
simply because they read the star signs,
shining in glorious celebration!
On the twelfth day of Christmas My true love gave to me: Twelve Drummer Drumming… January 5th is the “Twelfth Day of Christmas.”
Source: Twelfth Day of Christmas
drum beating down the seconds of our lives
heart keeping time with the the breaths that we take
first song we danced inside our mother’s womb
that sweet sound that tells us that we’re living
and when it ceases you’ll know that’s the end
Author’s note: I challenged myself to write a poem a day from December 1st to the end of of the Christmas season. Today was the last! Thank you for all you kind comments
On the eleventh day of Christmas My true love gave to me: Eleven Pipers Piping… January 4th is the “Eleventh Day of Christmas.”
Source: Eleventh Day of Christmas
silver and steel
weeping sad notes
saying out loud
what’s stuck in my throat.
birds cannot sing
any sad songs;
if I could fly,
it wouldn’t it feel wrong.
’tis my folly
silver and steel
bringing me down,
why is the sun
why have you gone
so far away?
leaving me lonely.
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Ten lords-a-leaping…
January 3rd is the “Tenth Day of Christmas.”
Source: Tenth Day of Christmas
a decade of decadence descends;
indulging indolent lords lounging,
are unmoved by the wasted waists
of expanding overflowing belts.
we who gloriously feasted our whole lives,
filling our faces on sweet fluffy nothings;
and still we wonder why our hearts burst;
bleeding seeping regret out every orifice.
I too, am alike to these others unmoved and immovable.
trapped by my own weighty ponderous thoughts;
logically I should see the gravity of reality,
and understand why the floor is sagging lower.
there is always this obscene naked fascination;
wondering how low can it even go as it slides down,
revealing the wonders hidden down below and between:
OH mother may I look? may I touch? might I please?
She never answers; she never does; she just goes
on with her life and private pleasures never shared.
Would she if she could?, I wonder aloud to myself
understanding how the shadows and echoes are so lonely.
And then it happens all at once; loudly like a door
exploding into a million shards of slamming glass.
this is it you know – and you do understand don’t you?
that in the end there is never anything more than this.
Incomplete thoughts dribbled sighing across a page,
offering a glimpse of what we might have learned,
if only we had paused from our gorging to observe,
that which we are all pretending isn’t really real.
the end is nigh and bouncing high overhead
while we laughing watch them happily tumble:
ten lords-a-leaping and creeping away from it all;
leaving us behind to fall into that hungry abyss: