RE: RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

RE: RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Last edited by cousinsoren 12-06-2010 at 12:22:09 AM

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)SnowPoets book update status

Hey just thought I would let everyone know how the book is coming along. Currently we have 17 poems/versus submitted along with 6 images. That brings us to about 35 pages used for the total of 200 pages needed to fill the book..All is looking fantastic poet family.......

Now lets start filling in some more of those pages. Get those pens crankin darlings and send in your Christmas poems...........thanks so much to all of you who have helped so far...........love asha

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Here's my submission, hope ya dig it

"The Christmas Angel"

She stood atop my grandma's tree
Each year at Christmastime
And Grandma probably bought her
At the local Five & Dime

A pretty Christmas Angel
Dressed in robes of satin white
With soft blonde hair and cherry lips
Her candle shining bright

For years, she cast a guiding light
Atop that great big tree
But we never really noticed her
Each night on Christmas Eve

We just piled into Grandma's
Dined on cookies, cake and pie
Opened gifts then hurried home
To watch for reindeer in the sky

But now those days are history
My grandma's long since gone
And Christmas isn't the same
Without her silly Santa songs

She didn't leave a lot behind
Except those memories
And a pretty Christmas Angel
To adorn our yuletide tree

Copyright December 2010
Michelle Jones *MindNumbing*

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Here is mine, and I hope it does the children some good.

Dear Santa, Let Me Explain

Dear Santa Claus, way up in the North Pole
Please, at least give me a chance to explain!
How was I supposed to know Dad’s remote control
Would get crushed when run over by a toy train?

I am not as naughty a boy as you might think,
I’m not a bad kid, I am not as bad as all that,
Who knew paint should not be poured down the sink?
Or that you should never try to shave the cat.

No matter what stories you might have heard,
I can be pretty darn good when I give it a try.
The cat will never again be stuffed in the cage with the bird,
Or slingshot to see if he can be taught how to fly.

I eat all of mom’s cooking, no matter how bad
I do my best to clean up my plate.
Only once did I hide the car keys in the freezer on Dad
The line I walk is narrow and straight.

I am sorry about the window, it was an accident
I was just playing ball with my friends.
I will pay for the glass, one hundred percent
And do whatever I can to make amends.

I am sure that Grandma has forgotten about those plates
She has forgotten about almost every other thing.
And I never bring her frogs or the snakes she hates
I have not muddied her carpets since Spring.

And about my kid sister, her hair will grow back,
Dad said she looked cuter than cute.
I think the rug in my room looks better in black
And Grandpa already replaced his gray suit.

So give me a break, Santa, I’m trying real hard,
It’s not easy keeping grownups happy, you see.
Maybe pirates really did bury treasure in our yard,
If I had found it, they would be happy, I guarantee.

So maybe sometimes I get in trouble when I get into a fight
Maybe sometimes I have to clap erasers after school,
I’m just full of energy, holding me down is not right
So what if I don’t follow their stupid rules

That rat Benny B., he had it coming, St. Nick,
He has been giving me guff for a week
He is a bully and a punk and he just makes me sick
With his nonstop tormentor’s mean streak.

You are Santa, you know the truth, I am really OK
I’m not a bad kid all of the time,
Just please bring me Christmas, I’ll do whatever you say,
I will even stop writing in rhyme.

Just one more thing Santa, and I hope you don’t mind
I really want to spread holiday cheer,
So if your list falls a little bit behind,
Please cut me a little slack for next year.

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

thank you so very much, Knight, Mindnumbing and Reilly for helping our cause...and thank you also lena for your post...love asha

Last edited by ApaqRasgirl 12-06-2010 at 01:57:38 PM

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

The Christmas Arraingement

Late one December evening
A sound woke me from my bed,
I grabbed a baseball bat for safety
And crept downstairs full of dread.

I must admit I was not fit
For foiling midnight burglaries.
My cousin had kept pouring eggnog,
I kept on saying, “Yes, please.”

I slunk down the stairs, bat in hand,
Jumping at yet another sound.
But never in my wildest dreams
Did I realize what I had found.

Someone was in my living room!
I could hear them moving around.
So I jumped into the darkened room
And bonked him upon his crown!

He fell face first upon my rug
As you maybe have suspected,
But when I turned on the table lamp
What I saw was quite unexpected.

Santa Claus himself lay unconscious,
My heart filled with a child’s worst fear.
I had gone ahead and clobbered
The source of all Christmas Cheer!

I had to hide the evidence
Or suffer a Christmas curse!
I could not guess how my holidays
Could possibly get any worse.

I dragged that fat elf out into the snow
And began to dig a hole.
I hoped to hide the evidence
Lest I be doomed to a lifetime of coal.

But then he awoke, and began to yell
And my neighbors began prying
To spy the source of all the noise,
The screaming, yelling and crying.

The cops showed up, and saved St. Nick
Before hauling me off to the station.
They said they hoped the judge threw the book
Like I was some inhuman abomination.

Not long after I stood up in court
While the victim showed his bruises.
I tried to tell of eggnog-induced haze
But the judge was hearing no excuses.

I hung my head in utmost shame
While the verdict was entered and read.
I got twenty long years in a state prison cell
For cold-cocking the man in red.

Then Santa’s elvish lawyers worked,
And a fireplace was magically erected,
Santa winked and vanished with a finger on his nose
Although not the one I expected.

Now when Christmas time rolls around this year
And you all have fun with your celebrations,
I sit in my gray ten-by-ten room
Fulfilling my legal obligations.

So take my advice this holiday season
As you fire up the traditional Yule log,
If your cousin is anything at all like mine
Say “No thanks” to a sixth eggnog.

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Sent in by Londo
Thanks dear for your help......asha

The Toy Train

‘twas the night before Christmas
And all through the den
Dad stayed up all night
With train track and gin

I was just five
Back in ‘59
Dad was an engineer
On the Grand Trunk Line

So he knew the ropes
All the rules of the road
He knew what it took
To pull a big load

Like his father before him
An engineer too
But grandpa passed away
When I was just two

Now on this Christmas Eve
Dad was busy as sin
Laying down track
And sipping on gin

A four by eight sheet of plywood
He spray painted green
Tacked down the tracks
Built a holiday scene

A railroad trestle
O’er the road
Up hill and down
The train pulled the load

Houses, a church
A granary too
The HO scale village
Really something to view

On Christmas morning
There were presents galore
When I finished unwrapping
My dad said, “One more.”

“Go take a peek
At the floor in the den.”
I looked at my mom
She gave me a grin.

I ran to the den
And turned on the light
I couldn’t believe
The wondrous sight

There were twinkling lights
And engines with whistles
‘twas ‘The Cold War’ era
So one flatcar had missiles

Small cars at the crossings
At each crossing, a gate
As the trains came by
The cars had to wait

“I’ll show you how it works.”
Dad said and put on his cap
He gave me one too
As I sat on his lap

‘twas a great Christmas morn’
And I didn’t complain
As I sat there all day
Watching dad play with the train

Londo 12-06-10

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

sent in by LenaM
thanks sweetheart for helping.......asha

Santa and The Old Man


She was a wisp of a girl with a smile as bright as the sun
She pulled out her Christmas list and I inwardly groaned
I just wanted to take off this damn Santa suit and head home

Okay little girl lets get this done and could you hurry, it's late
looked down at my watch again as if to make my point
Santa don't worry I'll be quick I'll try not to make you wait

In a voice just barely above a whisper she recited her list
Well Angela she needs a new coat hers is full of holes
even though she never complains Santa she's gotta be cold

Stevie's is sick with cancer, so can you find him a specialist
he hurts a lot but he wants to be an Olympic gold medalist

Cathy well she's never had a new Barbie Doll, oh and can she have Ken
plus Barbie's Townhouse too? I know she'd take special care of them

My daddy needs a car, he walks to work everyday
when he comes home at night, he's too tired to play

Ben needs new glasses his are broken and the other kids make him cry
I get so mad sometimes it makes me sad to see him run and hide

That's all Santa I've finished my list, she said with a grin
I looked into her innocent face, felt shame flush my skin

Embarrassed by my impatience, till now this had been just a chore
half listening as children filed past and frankly quite bored

Knowing full well I could never bring it to pass
I gave a half-hearted promise to bring what she asked

Hopping off my lap, her little feet skipping in a happy dance
she left humming jingle bells as she looked back for a last glance

In the corner stood a man, disheveled, wrinkled skin caked with dirt,
his voice soft but steely as he spoke, no way I will let that child be hurt

Reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and much to my surprise
the man was a legend known by many yet I had failed to recognize

When you're done with your shift, meet me outside, now hand me that list
I've much to do and not much time, but I aim to fulfill that child's every last wish

He walked out, left me mouth wide open, choking back tears
as the store Santa I had seen much, but never this in all my years

With trembling hands I went back, sat in my chair to finish my shift
my mind churning a mile a minute as I thought of her list of gifts

Watching the clock with a mixture of elation and dread till the final bell rang
bundled up tight went out the back door and down the steps and my heart sang

For there he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, brand new car, keys dangling in his hand
inside all she had asked for and more, go ahead son, she's waiting for Santa not this old man

Selena Howard © 2010

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Rock on my poet family......We are up 22 poems and 48 pages out of 200 by this afternoon.......Well done everyone.........Now if any of you have pictures of your christmas tree or other christmas scenes please send them in. We are adding images to the book as well..........thanks dear ones....love asha

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Dear Asha,
We are recieving God Blessings.Don't Bless Us.Bless The Faith OF God.
He is Making Us the Poetry site That Will Go Down in U.S.History as Awesome.
There Now You May Thank All The Poets,lol!
When are We going to Chat to Play With The Smileys?lol!

As You Write Poems For This Book Keep In Mind

RE: RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Last edited by cousinsoren 12-07-2010 at 08:41:09 PM

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

The open fire begins to glow

Outside the ground is sprinkled with snow

Colourful stockings line the shelves

The Northpole is full of busy little elves

Santa's sleigh is being packed with toys

For all the good little girls and boys

Homes are filled with the scent of pine,

christmas mince pies & freshly mulled wine

Listen to the whispers echo through the air

Merry Christmas and a Happy new year!

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Asha,
this is last years, and Oren has another coming...

Merry Christmas Mr. & Mrs. Hampton


Now that we have seen many Christmas’
Now that we have heard many Carols
Now that we have opened many Gifts
How do we write new cheerful Heralds?


With the smell of Madelynn’s baking cookies,
and the children, finally helping, with the dishes
Let’s have a cup of cocoa, and talk about poetry
Poetry for the season, reasons for all life’s wishes


Remember, the feelings, when Santa first gave us cheer,
and how curious, in awe, we became of his reindeer;
The so-many ways of decorating the tree each year;
The sweet times of reminiscing of family in revere?


Madelynn Dear, please turn on the holiday tunes
Let us tell you what we went shopping for in June
Things homemade, gifts for the homeless, oh so attune
With faith all through the year, blessings fell in opportune


The gift of a warm made quilt is a little fire
A pocketful of verse in a little chap to inspire
Simple things to cuddle up to before they retire
We thought we would create moments, we the supplier-
to living poems, and rescue the spirit they once attired


We were so happy to see the smiles on their face
With no strings attached, that’s the gift of grace
From the depths of our love, to the ones misplaced
We gave them the Spirit of Christmas to embrace


So, our new humorous poet friends
Christmas stories stir us restless, getting-
family and friends on the guest list
And with these modern days of netting
We so dearly wish you the spirit in expansion
Merry Christmas Mr. & Mrs. Hampton

http://www.originalpoetry.com/merry-christmas-mr-amp-mrs-hampton

I am working on two more.

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RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

[

If you forget it’s Christmas,
John Canoe,in Jamaica, will remind you.
Heigh-ho! Heighho! Ho-ho- ho!
Ho-ho! Hiegh-ho ! Heigh-ho! Hey-Nanny-ho!
With squealing bamboo fife and goat-skin drum
Heigh—ho! Rubbah –dub – dub! Drum-drum-drum,
Here comes the junkunu band!

Dancing and cavorting from street-side to street,
Rude little children ,run and hide!
If you were rude, throughout the year.
Under the dark bed run and shiver,
Or in a cupboard or behind a door quietly peep;
The Devil is searching and prodding with his fork
Looking for children who like to sulk or talk,
When told it’s time to go to bed, no more TV;
Or who refuse to eat their vegetables.
Stick out their tongues at others.
Forget to say thank you, and their prayers.,
Good morning to elders, can I help you, please?

There goes a young man running from the Devil!

He has probably been doing wrong.
But what say you of that laughing damsel.
Who is clinging to the back of that grinning man?


Hay! Look out! Here they come!
The Devil leaping and dancing way in front,
Horsehead next, Cowhead holds him by his tail.
Look at Belly-Woman, her belly so big.
Mother says in her stomach she keeps rude children.
And lets them out when thy are forgiven.
But if you put ten dollars in her hand,
She will forget you to swallow
And warn you to be good next year..

Watch out! Look at Indian Bwoy!
“Whayeeee! Heheee! Hay-eeh!” he yells
And wheels his wooden tomahawk
Have a ten dollar coin ready for his hand,
Or he may chop off your feet!
Look at his colourful feathers and his painted face,
I like his long strings of beads and his mocassins .
They seem softer than my tight leather shoes.

I like the Queen the best , most gorgeous!
As she dances with her barefooted King
She is always asking for money.
To buy him a pair of shoes.
Hey! Hey! She won’t think you rude,
If you pay her ten dollars to lift her skirt;.
Hey! What a big red drawers! Look at her legs!
I swear they are the legs of a man,
No queen ought to have such massive calves!
But it’s Merry Christmas
Everything is big, red and bright,
And things done in darknesswill will come to light.

And where is Pitchy –Patchy? Look there he is!
He is trying to ride Horsehead!
Why is he wearing so much cloth?
A big, long gown of multicoloured scraps!
He is busy moving in and out of shops,
With his blackened palm outstretched;.
Look how his colourful rags jump and dance.
“Gimme money! Gimme money!’ he screamed and screeched
“Gimme money! Gimme money!” is the junkunu’s cry..

You may come from your hiding, little children.
The junkunu men have come and gone.
But be good next year, they warned.
With squealing fife and goat skin drum,
Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! Ho-ho! Ho-ho!
When poinsettia, euphorbia and sorrel bloom,
And carols of joy are being sung,
Next Christmas, beware, they will be back.

Last edited by cousinsoren 12-09-2010 at 01:55:12 PM

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RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Thank you rachelerika, WS and cousins for the new entries for the book.....they are all fantastic.....I love them.........but please remember all my dear Christmas poets that I need you to also email me your submitted poems signed and dated by you the author and I need a title for them as well.......

rachelerika darling your poem is so beautiful, can you put a title on it for me pretty please with sugar sprinkles and all.......LOL.......thanks to all of you......love asha

ashadi9895@gmail.com

RE: RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Quote:

Originally Posted by WordSlinger

Asha,
this is last years, and Oren has another coming...

Merry Christmas Mr. & Mrs. Hampton


Now that we have seen many Christmas’
Now that we have heard many Carols
Now that we have opened many Gifts
How do we write new cheerful Heralds?


With the smell of Madelynn’s baking cookies,
and the children, finally helping, with the dishes
Let’s have a cup of cocoa, and talk about poetry
Poetry for the season, reasons for all life’s wishes


Remember, the feelings, when Santa first gave us cheer,
and how curious, in awe, we became of his reindeer;
The so-many ways of decorating the tree each year;
The sweet times of reminiscing of family in revere?


Madelynn Dear, please turn on the holiday tunes
Let us tell you what we went shopping for in June
Things homemade, gifts for the homeless, oh so attune
With faith all through the year, blessings fell in opportune


The gift of a warm made quilt is a little fire
A pocketful of verse in a little chap to inspire
Simple things to cuddle up to before they retire
We thought we would create moments, we the supplier-
to living poems, and rescue the spirit they once attired


We were so happy to see the smiles on their face
With no strings attached, that’s the gift of grace
From the depths of our love, to the ones misplaced
We gave them the Spirit of Christmas to embrace


So, our new humorous poet friends
Christmas stories stir us restless, getting-
family and friends on the guest list
And with these modern days of netting
We so dearly wish you the spirit in expansion
Merry Christmas Mr. & Mrs. Hampton

http://www.originalpoetry.com/merry-christmas-mr-amp-mrs-hampton

I am working on two more.

darling this image you have on this poem is beautiful......I'm adding this one to the book......love it...asha

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RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

well hope you all like it.....

The Bell...

As day turns to night

a little boy sits at the window

anxiously waiting to see Santa.

His eyes were closing but he would force them open.

“ I have to see him. I need to prove that he exists”

Not many people in this town have the Christmas spirit.

No trees line the sidewalks, not carols fill the air, no lights hang in the streets.

Kids have been saying that Santa doesn't exist

that it is only their parents eating his cookies, drinking his milk,

and leaving presents with little cards that say “from Santa”.

They say that even if there was a Santa

he always leaves them broken bells, bells that don't ring.

“maybe I should just believe them and go to bed and never think of Santa again.”

still he sits at the window, head resting against the window pane,

mumbling the words that he wanted no one to hear.

He doesn't remember when but he guesses he fell asleep

he awoke on Christmas morning in his own bed.

A joy filled smile comes to his face and he jumps out of bed and runs to his parents' room,

“mom dad, its Christmas! Wake up!”

all of them run to the living room and look at the tree.

Beneath it presents flood the floor.

Everyone just stands there staring,

finally the little boy runs to the presents and finds one that is for him that says “from Santa”

he rips open the present and he cant believe his eyes.

It was a game, a game that he wanted... but never told anyone about.

“How'd they know” he whispers only loud enough for him to hear.

Now he knew Santa does exist.

They all finished opening all the presents and went to eat breakfast.

He couldn't eat much because he was so excited.

He went back to the living room and looked at the tree,

beneath it was a single present.

He walks over and kneels down by it and sees it is for him.

He opens up the box and sees a little red bell and a letter.

He takes the letter out and reads it

“ To Timmy, you believed in me and you never stopped. Take this bell and shake it,”

he picks up the bell and shakes it and hears it ring,

“ see there your bell rang, not everyone's bell rings...that is because they don't believe in me.

If they did it would ring just like yours. Always believe and never stop.

Take care my boy. Love Santa”

he puts the letter down and holds they bell with both hands.

“ he does exist, I knew it.” ring, ring,ring,ring...

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Thank you dear, the poem is great you did just fine......love asha

WordSlingers' C-3PO and R2-D2

C-3PO & R2D2

It was December of 1978,
I wanted to be outside
to catch snow flakes
I was catching something inside

Momma was going on a drunk binge
She dressed nice in Indian fringe
She was really beautiful, but I didn’t understand
And Dad, neither, ‘You will when you’re a man’

When I was 8, My uncle said that to me
As my aunts said, ‘We’re going shopping’
And to this day I have no clue why
As today, in this memory I cry

Wow, the Imperial Death-Star is at Kmart
When we got there, my aunts’ grabbed a cart
We went straight to the toy aisle
Then I seen them, I felt my smile

They had them all there, except Bobafett
I was impressed by the Star-Fighter jet
Then I started feeling like a droid
No one ever worries about our void

I felt alone, and worried about my mom
I heard them name every kid, but no John
For an eight year old, I had a heavy heart
All I could do good was draw my art

The shopping cart filled up quick
Was Princes Leah an alcoholic?
This was a wonder for my brother and me
We learn the meaning to be sold separately

I wanted a C-3PO. and an R2-D2
The bright colors of gold, white and blue
I looked at my brother, and he found one
He had it hid in his pants, with a toy gun

I looked at him with a big, big surprise
I looked away hoping no one seen our eyes
All the carts were full with candy, and toys
Then we went to the girls section, dishes, oy’

When we returned we helped unload every bag
We watched them wrap them, and name tags
None of them said John, or my brother Michael
Then Uncle comes out with a girls bicycle

It was getting late, and we were sent to a room
Just like C-3PO, and R2-D2, we felt doomed
Today this time came back to my life
The lesson is no kid should ever feel strife


2010 copyright John E. WordSlinger

Last edited by WordSlinger 12-07-2010 at 10:55:49 PM

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RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

My Brother, Part II:

A Perfect Christmas

©2010, Olan L. Smith



“Oh boy it is going to be a perfect Christmas!”

Momma chimed in,
“Time for you to go to bed Cotton or Santa won’t come.”

I scurried to bed. Momma carefully tucked me into my bed,
“If you peek to see Santa he won’t leave presents.”

A dilemma for a young boy; on one hand
There was this overwhelming desire to for gifts
Oh dear, what to do.
I tossed and turned for several minutes
As I fought sleep but at last sleep won.

Suddenly, I was jolted awake by a loud banging. Could it be―
No― it was too much to hope for, Santa on my roof?
Do I dare sneak in the living room? No, better wait
Until he’s gone; I might scare him away.

I gave him five minutes that was enough time.
I snuck out to see. Slowly, I opened the door
To the living room and felt with my hand for the light switch
In hopes of glimpsing Santa Claus when the lights came on.

I searched and I found our front door; the skeleton key was in it.
So Santa had been here, I thought. Creeping I worked my way
Further and flipped on the lights.
Squinting, my eyes adjusted and peeking through my eyelids
I saw that indeed Santa had been there. Huge unwrapped presents
Lay under the tree glimmering brightly beneath its lights.

“Momma, Santa has been here!” I said as I ran into the bedroom.
“Come, and see! Momma, please come and see!”

“Cotton it is four a.m. go back to sleep.”

Oh no, what every boy dreaded,
Those fateful words, “Go back to sleep.”
Couldn’t she understand it was impossible under these circumstances?

“Momma please,” as I tugged their covers,

“Come with me.” My words begun to quiver;
I was just about to pull out all the stops and begin to cry.
Crying was my last resort but it was my best weapon—

I was about to let loose with a big wail
When my brothers appeared at the door―

“It’s Okay, mom. We will take care of him while you sleep,”
My brothers, to the rescue!
They brought into the living room

And sat me by the Christmas tree—
I looked at the tree sparkling in its beauty.
Hanging from it was the glittering globe
Given to me by my Sunday school teacher,
Also hanging from the tree was Bubba’s plastic horn
And Junior’s white colored Santa’s sleigh.

Bubba held me in his lap.
Soon, I fell fast asleep.
I felt Bubba move me onto our sofa.
I opened my eyes briefly as I felt covers laid over me

And I slipped back into the quite realm of slumber.
Another clamor awoke me from my slumber with a bang. I sat up.
Looking around and I saw my father tending the fire.
Loading our stove with chunks of coal—

I continued to look around the room. Everybody was awake.
It was daylight outside and snow covered the ground in splendor.
The first day of a snowfall was the only pretty day for the white stuff, in Dugby.
Soon all the chimneys around town would drop their ugly black soot
On the top layer of snow and give everything a blackened and dingy look.

Bubba grabbed me by the hand and said,
“Come with me. I want to show you something.
Put on clothes and boots; we are going outside.”

I said, “I already saw the key in the door.”

Bubba said, “We want you to see something.
So, I dressed, and followed my brothers.
We walked to the street to look at the house.

“Cotton, look up at the roof.
See the tracks in the snow on our roof.
Those are Santa’s sleigh tracks.
That is what woke you up this morning.”

Well that clinched it. There is a Santa Claus.
I was getting suspicious about the little elf
But here in front of me was proof positive.
This was the greatest Christmas present,
Because I had witnessed with my own eyes
The actual tracks of Santa’s sleigh.

RE: RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

Hello Poets,
Just Had to stop By and Congradulate All the Poets of The Week!
I needed to Also tell All the Poets They do Wonderful work and That I can't Keep Up with All the Beautiful Writes.
Asha You are most of all loved and have inproved So Much.I'm just so impressed with All the Hands Blessed By God.Such a wonderful job You are All doing with the Christmas Poetry For Children.My Goodness,I am so Impressed.Remember Happiness is an Inside Job and Winning is It's Masters.Good Luck with the Decembers Poets of The week,God Bless-Black
Pen Name:CHURV

RE: Calling All Poets (Christmas Poems)

I sat in Hope Pastures , scrolling my mind, traversing the memories of two thousand years. A bright light shattered the scroll , and I fell in a trance. I was transported to Palestine, and a little Jewish boy led me backward through the corridor of time. Lo and behold, what I heard and saw. It was winter in Palestine. The mountainous region of Palestine is formed by two parallel lines of the mountains of Lebanon. A coastal plain lies along the west bordering the Mediterranean Sea. The Jordan River, the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea occupy a long deep valley between the mountains. There are several mountain ranges- Mts. Hermon, Carmel, Tabor, Moriah, Gilboa, Nebo, Tisgah, Zion and Olive. Although the land is very rough, the region is naturally fertile. To the south, is the desert region called the Negeb, There are many caves , the most famous being the cave of Abdullam. The Mediterranean coast is fruitful . The interior plain of the Jordan, robbed of moisture by the mountains, is a desert. The area around the Dead Sea is rocky and barren. There are many natural wells and fountains such as the well of Bethlehem and the well of Samaria. where Abram used to water his flocks, and the Philistines once suffered a severe defeat. The coastal climate of Palestine is warm and wet from the winds of the Mediterranean Sea. which bring a lot of rain in the winter season. In the northern parts of Palestine and the Judah hills there is snow in winter due to the cold winds from Asia., but the Jordan valley always remains warm. The rains come in winter and cease in Spring, and the summer, especially in the Jordan valley, is hot and dry.

On a certain dark and rainy night, I fell into a trance, at my home in Hope Pastures. I, a Jamaican mystic, was led by a little Jewish boy , to Bethlehem in Palestine, to meet the man of all ages, Father Time. Judaea lay sleeping beneath the troubled sky, while weary shepherds watched their sheep against thieves, hungry wolves , wild dogs and mountain lions. Judaea slept fitfully because, like on any other night, there was no peace in the land. Judaea, a region of Biblical Canaan, the Promised Land, taken by force from indigenous peoples called Canaanites, suffered hundred of years of successive conquests and oppression. Judaea is mostly desert, but olives, grapes , figs, oranges and grain grow in fertile places. Sheep rearing is a staple occupation. Warrior King David came from Judaea. He had joined all the tribes of Israel into one Kingdom of Israel, and established Jerusalem, captured from the Jebusites , as his capital. The Kingdom was divided into Judaea to the south and Israel to the north, after the death of Solomon, the Wise. The Babylonians captured Jerusalem and carried away its inhabitants as captives to Babylon. Cyrus , the Great, king of Persia conquered Babylon and restored the Jews to Jerusalem. Then the Romans came.

Abijam rested his weary back against the rock-face whose overhang barely provided shelter from the rain. Close to him, on his right , huddled his father –in-law, Aran- Isaac, on his left , his teenage son, Eleazar. Aran-Isaac, bronzed, massive and heavily bearded, had built a small fire. Eleazar pulled his coarse woollen garment tightly about him and squatted near the fire, yet he was shivering from the cold, goose bumps breaking out on his naked arms and legs, while his strong teeth chattered. His father did not seem bothered by the rain and the cold. “Those stinking Romans! Turd of sheep!" Abijam rumbled. “Those filty Romans! Gentile dogs! Savage animals! That’s what they are, with their heathen tongue, their graven images and eagles of brass !” He took his flute from his shepherd’s bag, fitted his fingers and placed it to his lips. then changed his mind and replaced it in his bag. He took out a thick, circular loaf of wheat bread, instead, and a lump of cheese He broke the bread into three and gave a piece to each of his companions. They each broke a piece of the cheese. Aran–Isaac took a wine-skin from his bag. They took turns drinking the wine between mouthfuls of bread and cheese.

“Thieves and murderers! That is what they are!” Abijam bitterly swore. “We are oppressed too long! Remember Maccabeus?”

“Yeah,” Aran Isaac growled in reply. ”He was long before our time.

"We need a hero like Judas Maccabeus to drive the infidels from our land, ” Abijam angrily continued. “The prophets are only making promises that Yahweh will soon free us. Freedom is taking a rather long time. How much longer must we suffer? Now we are going to be taxed to maintain the armies of Rome!”

“Who was Maccabeus, Father?” Eleazar stammered, his teeth still chattering, despite the fire. Abijam drew his son closer, the warmth of his body radiating heat into the boy. Abijam’s thick woollen robe stank of sweat and the rankness of rams, but the boy was used to that. He also stank. The protective embrace of his father against the cold was more important to him.

The boy’s grand-father, Aran –Isaac, re-arranged the twigs in the fire and fanned the flames to rise and roar generating warmth against the murkiness of the dark and dripping rain.

“Maccabeus?” Abijam grunted. “My father told me about him when I was a little boy. His father told him and his grandfather before him. Abijam paused to organize reminiscences of his father. “Maccabeus was a hero and a patriot. So was his father, Mattathias, before him. Mattathias was the High Priest of Judaea. When the Syrians subdued Judaea, Anthiochus their king, tried to destroy the worship of Yahweh, The One True God. Mattathias fled with his five sons and many people to the mountains whither he waged war against the Syrians. When he died, his eldest son, Judas Maccabeus, became leader of the struggle. He defeated the Syrians in many battles, tore down their false gods and altars, restored Solomon’s Temple and the worship of Yahweh. Your great-great grandfather, Jeshua, fought alongside him against the Syrians. They both died side-by- side in battle. Now we have no great hero to drive the Roman dogs from our midst!” He spat at the fire in contempt of the Romans.

“The Maccabees were a priestly people who fought against oppression, but now the priests are worse that the Romans," Aran– Isaac grumbled.

“Yeah,” Abijam replied. “They too are oppressing their own people. Annas and Caiaphas are Roman lackeys! They bow and scrape to the Roman procurator who calls them citizens of Rome. Just two moons past, that little boy, Simeon , the son of Cephas, who sells fruits and vegetables by the Temple gate, and Ephraim, his cousin, decided to peep behind the Temple curtains to see what Yahweh was doing in the Holy of Holies. Ephraim got cold feet, but Simeon crept under the drapes."

“ The Holy of Holies!” Aran–Isaac shouted in horror. “That was an abomination! What did he see? Did he die before telling what he saw ?”

“No,” he didn’t die,” Abijam replied, roaring with laughter. “ Simeon told his cousin, what he saw. His cousin told his mother what Simeon told him that he saw. She told Rebecca, Simeon’s mother, what her son told her that Simeon said he saw, and she told her husband, Cephas, what she had heard about their son.”

“And Simeon is still alive? What did he see?” Aran –Isaac asked again.

Abijam cleared his throat and gazed at the fire, before speaking. " No, he didn’t die. In fact, he disobeys his father’s command to keep it a secret and offers to whisper it to everyone he meets for a small fee. I am surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

“What did he see? Tell us!” Aran- Isaac impatiently asked. An excited Eleazar joined his grandfather in a vociferous plea.

“Ephraim told his mother that Simeon said that he saw the High Priest, his swollen, ulcerated foot propped up on the Mercy Seat, and he was trimming his beard with a sacrificial knife, and drinking plenty of wine from a golden cup!” Abijam replied with a sneer.

“ Son of Seoul!” Aran– Isaac roared in horror. “That little boy went into the Holy of Holies and no harm befell him? It’s a lie! I don’t believe it! Has Caiaphas a sore foot?"

“ That I don’t know,” Abijam replied, amused at his father-in-law’s oaths and curiosity. “And I don’t care to know either! No harm befell Simeon. though he ought to have died like that Ishmael of Nazareth who stole a leg of a burnt offering and having eaten it, died almost instantly.”

“Ishmael deserved to die,” Aran-Isaac vehemently remarked. “Last moon, he stole the scape –goat and ate it, having offered to lead it into the desert.”

Abijam looked anxiously at the darkness. “If it weren’t for the thieves and the wild animals, I wish myself in bed. No good Israelite should be out on a foul night like this,“ he grumbled.

“Ah-ah!” his father –in- law laughed “ I am sure Sarah is hot with desire for you , while you are here shivering in the cold,” he pleasantly teased

“Father , you said Simeon did not die. What happened then?” Eleazar asked ,in wonderment.

"When Cephas heard what Simeon had done he tore his clothes and fell prostrate on the ground, begging Yahweh not to kill his son. Rebecca fainted, fasted ands prayed for three days," Abijam replied.

“ What happened then?” Eleazar repeated. He was so excited, that heedless of the rain, he no longer felt the cold.

Abijam stood up and gently placed a hand on his son’s head. “ Cephas took Rebecca , his wife, and Simeon , his son, and a lamb to the Temple to confess what his son had done and to offer a burnt offering in gratitude to Yahweh." he said. " A priest told him that a lamb was not enough to appease Yahweh’s wrath for such a monstrous sin. He had to bring a bullock!”

“That I don’t understand!” Aran- Isaac exclaimed. “Everyone ought to see that Yahweh was not annoyed with that mischievous little boy. The boy did not die. You said that he is jumping up and down and about, offering to tell his story for a small fee to anyone who cares to hear. A bullock, you say? There was no need for a burnt sacrifice of atonement," Aran -Isaac’s voice rose above the wind and the rain that was now pattering more loudly on the surrounding scanty foliage

. “Yes, an ox!” Abijam said. “A bullock ! Cephas cried in distress, Yahweh, be merciful! I am a poor man. I have a single ox to do my ploughing! The priest said to Cephas, Well, which are you prepared to lose, your bullock or your son?"

“And what did poor Cephas do ?” Aran- Isaac quietly asked.

Abijam’s voice was thick with anger, “He sacrificed his only ox, and now he and his son pull, while Rebecca guides the plough !”

Aran-Isaac’s laughter was bitter. “Stupid man!” he cried “ Though I am a poor man myself, if I had known of his distress, I would have lent him the money to buy an ox for the sacrifice. He would have to pay me back with interest, of course. Isaiah , your great -great grandfather warns that we must put our trust only in Yahweh. Not in rulers and princes. He said that Jahweh saves and protects the faithful and punishes their enemies. He said that Yahweh promised to restore his people.”

“The priests do not seem to read Isaiah seriously,” Abijam scoffed. " They are not listening to the prophets.. They seem to have hardened their hearts and have blind-folded their eyes and have placed plugs in their ears. Take this matter of burnt offerings. Isaiah says that Yahweh said, To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifice unto me? I am full of the burnt sacrificed of rams, and the fat of beasts and I delight not in the blood of bullocks or of lambs or of he-goats.”

“You speak truth., Abijam,” Aran-Isaac said. “ The priests heed not or they would not demand a poor man’s ox. Bring me no more ovations, Yahweh said. Your new moons and your special feasts, I hate. When you spread forth your hands, I will hide my face. Yea, when you make many prayers, I will not hear. Your hands are filled with blood.”

“ Is Yahweh tired of eating meat and drinking blood and listening to prayers, Father?” Eleazar naively asked.

Aran- Isaac swiftly answered before Abijam could recover from the shock of his son’s stunning question. “ I hope not, Son,” he said. “ Yahweh likes to listen to good prayers. Yahweh says, according to your great - great grandfather, Isaiah- Come and let us reason together. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. Though they be crimson, they shall be like wool. If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land. “ Aran– Isaac paused for a while to reflect. “ These are powerful words,” he shouted. ‘These are evil days. Terrible things are happening to us. There are more terrible things to come, for we are a stiff-necked people.”

“ But why are you shouting, Aran–Isaac?” a disgruntled Abijam mocked. “ There is no one out there to hear you.”

“ Let the sheep and the wind and the rain hear, if there is no one out there to hear me,” Aran- Isaac angrily retorted.

“ Grandpa, you could still lend Cephas the money to buy an ox for the ploughing, “ Eleazar suggested.

Aran -Isaac ignored his grand-son’s wish, knelt beside the fire and started to pray aloud, “Judge, O Yahweh. Be our Judge. Forgive us our transgressions, and correct our evil ways. Save us from utter destruction. Pour thy mercy upon us. Send justice upon the land. Send us another Maccabeus to save us from oppression."

Eleazar knelt beside his grand-father. Abijam stood and made no comment, but peered out into the darkness which was weakly pierced by the tiny flame of the fire at his feet. He was sick of his father-in –law’s constant and fruitless praying. He bent and stirred the fire to renew its life. It had started to rain heavily again. He wished the rain would cease. To add to his discomfort and anxiety, the sheep started to bleat loudly. Aran- Isaac stopped his praying. “ What could be disturbing the sheep ?” he anxiously asked. He rose and grasped his shepherd’s staff. “ Stay ,” he said. “ I will go to see what is happening.”

“ Careful now, “ Abijam said. “ it is a foul night. Shout if you need help." Aran- Isaac firmly gripped his staff, gritted his teeth and was quickly swallowed by the blackness of the night. Abijam and Eleazar peered out into the darkness, but could see not see anything. Aran-Isaac noticed that black billowy clouds had blotted out the stars , but a single bright light , very bright, pierced the gloomy dome of heaven with its singular brilliance to show him way. When Aran–Isaac returned, Eleazar said, “ Grandpa , it sounds as if the sheep were singing!"

“I see nothing untoward with the flock,” Aran- Isaac said. “ The lambs are nestling close to the dams, and the rams are standing huddled together. But I can’ t understand. There is something strange out there tonight. There is a very bright star near to the Dog Star. I have never seen a star so bright. Come, have a look. The rain has ceased."

“ Granpa, I hear singing in the sky,” Eleazar cried. “ Listen. Do you hear it?”

“Shut up your nonsense, boy! “ Abijam snapped. “ You should not play pranks on your elders.”

“Something terrible is happening,” Aran- Isaac cried, ‘’The darkness has gone!” Suddenly the sky was lit with stars , then they flickered out leaving the brightest star, and Aran – isaac, Eleazar and Abijam fell to the ground as that star suddenly shone on them., momentarily blinding them. “Yahweh, Yahweh is Lord!” Aran-Iaac was shouting, in adoration. " Blessed be Yahweh forever. “

“ The sheep are bleating again. That doesn’t sound like an alarm,” Eleazar anxiously remarked from his crouched position. “In all my life, I have never heard sheep make such noise.”

“It sounds like singing!” said Aran- Isaac , anxiously looking at the sky. “Awesome things are happening , tonight!” he shouted. “ That bright star has moved . It is now glowing over Bethlehem. Lo, how it shines!”

“Yes, Grandpa, “ The angels are singing glory to Yahweh. Can you hear them and see them?” Eleazar cried, jumping about excitedly

" No, I see not , but I hear heavenly voices ,” Aran –Isaac, “ shouted. “ They are singing Peace on earth, goodwill to all men! Abijam, do you see or hear anything?"

“I fear not ! ” Abijam gruffly replied. ” Your imagination is running wild!”

“That new star shining over Bethleham is not a fantasy, Abijam, ” Aran- Isaac slowly and softly said. “You can at least see that! What was it that blinded us and threw us to the ground ? Did it happen or didn’t it happen?”

“Yes, Father,” Eleazar shouted. “Our new King is born in a manger, in Bethlehem!"

“How do you know that ?” Abijam asked in alarm. “Are you getting mad, Boy? You will soon be shouting next that you see sheep with wings flying in the sky! Calm yourself, Boy! Glory be!”

“ Yes, Father, “ Eleazar replied. “That is what the sheep were singing, but you were not listening. They were singing- glory be!”

Aran- Isaac lovingly patted his grandson on the head. “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings................” he murmured. “The day has come, at last! Glory to Israel! Oppression will cease! Your great- great grandfather, Isaiah , prophesied it, six hundred years ago, that the glory of Israel will be restored, and justice and peace like a mighty river will flow through out the land, and a righteous and mighty king shall sit again on the throne of Judah . Lo and behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son and he shall be called Emmanuel.”

“Do you really believe that crap?” Abijam angrily asked.

“Every Jew is taught to believe the prophets,” Aran- Isaac admonished him. “You are a Jew. Are you not?”

"What do the prophecies say about the Deliverer, Grandpa? “ Eleazar asked. " Father, says that we are having so many unfulfilled prophecies.”

“ Your great -great grandfather, Isaiah , spoke of a king who will be called Wonderful Saviour, Wonderul Counsellor, The Everlasting Father, The King of Peace. He will sit on the throne of David and he will rule with judgement and justice forever.” Aran- Isaac replied.

The rain is coming again,” Abijam said, looking up to the sky. “ Dark clouds are covering the stars, except the bright one over Bethlehem."

“Tell me more , Grandpa, “ Eleazar begged, holding out the palms of his hands to wash them with the first drops of the renewed rain. “

" The rain is coming heavily, My Son. We must seek shelter. I will tell you more one of these fine days. Your great -great grandfather prophesied that a light is coming, darkness will go away , Gentiles, even the accursed Romans shall come to the light. We shall be free of the infidels and every man shall sit under his own fig tree. I believe that the long awaited Messiah has come! “

“Will he be like Maccabeus, Grandpa?” Eleazar asked.

“ The prophets say that he will be the greatest,” Aran–Isaac replied “

" The prophets are all noise and no substance!” Abijam mocked. They are all mad men!"

Eleazar was anxious to hear more. ‘Father, why do you say the prophets are mad men ?"

." You have asked enough questions for one day. Now shut up!” he glumly ordered his son.

“ Let the boy be,” Aran – Isaac said. “ Lo , the day breaks, and there is no rain. Let us go to Bethlehem to seek what we may find. We shall offer a lamb as a gift to the royal babe, if we find him.”

“What about the sheep?” Abijam asked.

‘Yahweh will take care of them till we return,” Aran- Isaac replied.

“You may go on your wild-goose chase and take Eleazar with you,” Abijam sarcastically ordered. “Good luck to you! . I prefer to stay with the flock!"

“You may stay, Abijam, ” Aran –Isaac calmly said. “I will ask your cousin, Barabbas, to come in your place.”

“ Who? Barabbas? “ Abijam scoffed. “ You get him to leave his flock? Take him, if you can get him! A visit to see a king should make him change his rebellious ways. If he doesn’t change, the Romans may crucify him one of these days! Mark my words!”

“ May Yahweh forbid! As rebellious as he is,” Aran- Isaac remarked, “ there is a lot of good in Barabbas. He is young and fiery, but he will change. I am certain that he will go with us to Bethlehem.”

On their way to find Barabbas, they met other shepherds who told them that they were seeing a very bright star above Bethlehem, and some had seen and heard the angels, as well as the sheep. singing. Barabbas went with Aran– Isaac and Eleazar. They found a babe with Mary, his mother, and Joseph whom they thought was his real father, in a stable. They gave him the lamb and worshipped him

"Who are you ?” still in a trance, I asked the little Jewish boy.

"I am your own creation,” he replied.

Last edited by cousinsoren 12-20-2010 at 01:51:25 PM

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