Poetry competition CLOSED 1st January 2024 4:05pm
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RUNNERS-UP: Ahavati and ReggiePoet

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Tyrant of Words
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 16505

Poetry Contest

Memories of Christmas

Tell us about your memories of Christmas, such as your best childhood memories etc.
Two poems per poet
no collaborations
no adult contents
no chatting in threads
any length but not an epic
no AI generated poems

Fire of Insight
England 15awards
Joined 30th Sep 2022
Forum Posts: 471

For Bro', and me

My bro' and me, age five or so,
tight snug abed warm sole to sole,  
chattering what might Santa bring,  
wriggling giggling screeching out hymns  
as hot sweet spice rose from below...  
Outside the window's feathery glow  
of Jack Frost hid fresh falls of snow  
but oh, how we bounced those bed springs,  
my bro' and me...  
Toys and games things to bang and blow,  
a selection box new clothes and oh,  
will it be sledging snow, such things  
we discussed, red cheeked, wreathed in grins  
giddy then, Christmas tomorrow,  
For Bro', and me...
Written by Rew
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Fire of Insight
England 15awards
Joined 30th Sep 2022
Forum Posts: 471

On Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve when slumbering    
and dreaming of some Bearded King,            
back when fairies bought a loose tooth  
(this as that child is my excuse,)    
I dreamt of gifts that HE would bring.        
Not peace on Earth and such dull things        
but pretty toys some pulled by string    
as for good will, I had no use,        
On Christmas Eve.        
For weeks and weeks I binged on whinge        
when my mouth opened, Ma would cringe,        
" I want want want " she took to booze...        
I guess I kinda blew her fuse,        
such thoughts, now, my memory brings,        
on Christmas Eve...
Written by Rew
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Tyrant of Words
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 16505

Thank you for your entries Rew.

Thought Provoker
United States 13awards
Joined 4th May 2022
Forum Posts: 245

A Puppy for Xmas --

Plus a Puss!    
I still recall a special Xmas memory from my youth    
about the time I cut my first behemoth baby tooth,    
my mummy learning through her bonne amie in Gay Paree --    
a culinary crackerjack as well as bel esprit --    
that any pup or puss on being weened at eight weeks old    
creates a most delicious dish served lukewarm, hot, or cold,    
while whether roasted, barbecued, quick nuked, or diced up raw,    
both pups and pusses satisfy the most demanding maw,    
and equally turn out a rich ragoût or piquant quiche,    
no matter if the flesh be roadkill sans a tag or leash;    
so Mummy grabbed some doggy bags and scoured all London Town,    
collecting mangled furry friends she kindly quick put down,    
till Xmas Day on scarfing five large loaves of French baguettes,    
five thousand family members fed on two cooked kinds of pets --    
the scraps of which, though slightly spoiled, I humbly gift to all    
for whom the same old slaughtered Xmas turkey grows banal.    
Written by Jordan (D.O.C.)
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Fire of Insight
United Kingdom 27awards
Joined 15th Sep 2019
Forum Posts: 525

Christmas day

The spinning orb reflects a relaxation room,
dads in his favorite chair sleep will come soon,
Mum's in the kitchen with carcass and clutter
a festive table cloth, wine gravy and butter.
Crackers pulled and bellies popped,
karaoke crooner thankfully stopped,
dining room chairs needed to lounge,
tired out fairies turn tears into frowns.
Peanut nibble bowls, empty after eights
uncles slipped out again, a drink with his mates.
Granddad’s asleep still wearing his hat,
the one from his cracker, not the flat cap.
Presents in piles with paper just thrown,
dog stretched out full and starting to moan,
accordion accompaniment, everyone sings,
these are a few of my favorite things.
Written by Razzerleaf
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Tyrant of Words
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 16505

Jordan and Razzerleaf thank you for your entry

Tyrant of Words
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 16505


the parish priest so elegantly white
looked across his congregation
dreaming of a white christmas
pining for the glaciers and the fjord

scrawny little brown people
looked at the adorned tree
they could buy food with that
they thought kneeling on rough cement

he taught them to praise the God
in white dress and curly golden hair
ask them for the coins they could spare
from this christmas celebration

we went home exhausted and hungry
afterwards had rice with salted fish.

-not an entry-  

Dangerous Mind
United States 6awards
Joined 13th May 2022
Forum Posts: 216

Christmas Past

I saw my long dead parents in my dreams;
All scripture, spectacles, shortbread and tea.
That madness was their status quo, it seems,
As my less stately madness was for me.
But oh how high their grace and goodwill heaped
Along with the presents under the tree
Where the dangle branch tinsel season reaped
Silver scenes of serene infinity...
Sure to haunt me through my silvering years
Of ornamentation and colored lights
Scintillating through all the wineglass cheers
And welcome warmth of wassailing nights
Where phantasm adoring darkness hosts
The love of departed Yuletide ghosts!
Written by MidnightSonneteer
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Tyrant of Words
United States 118awards
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 15421

Christmas of ‘86

Each Thanksgiving      
a Christmas Wish insert    
sponsored by the United Way    
accompanies our county's newspaper
It's an opportunity for local ‘Angels'      
to ease less-fortunate suffering      
Nothing out of the ordinary      
appeared from previous years—    
a meal, groceries, clothes, toys    
firewood, an affordable home    
help with utilities, a car      
and so forth      
until the request      
by an eight-year-old boy       
"A Bicycle Repair Kit"    
He wasn’t wishing    
for a brand new bicycle;      
but, a $2.00 repair kit      
to fix his old one’s flat      
I wasn’t sure      
what to think of that—      
was he appreciative      
for what he had;    
or, just taking care      
of what he owned—    
perhaps he was afraid      
to ask for more      
because he felt      
he hadn’t been good—    
maybe he'd been taught      
the quality of age;    
things aren't made      
like they were, after all      
I thought of Solomon    
who could've asked for anything    
his heart desired—    
but, wished only for wisdom      
to lead God's people instead;    
yet was gifted all things      
beyond his imagining      
because of humility    
Regardless, a new bike      
replete with repair kit      
is what this kid deserved—    
anonymously, of course;      
because Angels should remain just that:    
The Spirit of Christmas in disguise   
   miracles whose only name is Love—      
   proving the humble are worthy      
   of so much more      
   than imagined possible   
   or even wished for        
Written by Ahavati
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Tyrant of Words
United States 118awards
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 15421

Christmas in Vietnam

1964 - Second Tour
Christmas lights in Vietnam  
were automatic weapon fire  
blinking within the perimeter;  
While back home in America  
I broke the leg of my first Barbie  
bending it too far back, my cow-  
licked pixie at morning attention  
transmitting code-aviation across  
a cracked oatmeal bowl, a crippled  
doll, a divided country, an ocean,  
a continent, a gulf, a peninsula,  
and Cambodian border to intercept  
and slit the throats of ricocheted  
bullets fiercely craning their knives  
for my father, who was looking out  
over a munition's crate desk  
from his makeshift tent while writing  
me about duty and love, his feet  
rotting from jungle and words  
trailing with irony at the beauty  
of sparklers hopping toward him  
like a warm holiday memory;
Or, childhood nightmare of captured  
fireflies: forgotten POW's dying  
in a foreign country of glass jar  
beneath dirty clothes on his bedroom floor.    
Written by Ahavati
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Tyrant of Words
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 16505

MidnightSonneteer and Ahavati thank you for participating.

Fire of Insight
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 362

Mama's Calling

       Inner child, your mama’s calling from the past, a memory, haunting
Twenty years, unspoken longing since she passed through heaven’s door
        Inner child, your mama’s singing, hear the memory, now ringing
        Deep within, your tears are brimming, wishing you could sing with her
Listen to her lovely singing, raise your voice and sing with her!
                                                Lovingly, remember her
        In your mind’s eye, see her walking hand in hand, with daddy, talking
At Sears Roebuck, Christmas shopping, brought to mind from long ago
        Images of love and laughter, longing for the things that matter
        Loved ones now in the hereafter, see them still, with heartfelt glow
Mom and Dad look down from heaven, Knowing how I miss you so!
                                                Memories from long ago
Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
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Tyrant of Words
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 16505

Thank you for your entry Reggie

Karam L. Parveen-Ashton
Tyrant of Words
United States 69awards
Joined 15th Sep 2011
Forum Posts: 2802

The Seed of Joy

- The Seed of Joy -
A Poem of Christmas

There was a place in olden times, where children used to play,
In the forests of our land, where many a river wound its' way.
I recall where we skipped stones upon the water, hearts light,
And the rocks where we sat, watching the sky, as fell the night.
Innocent times for innocent hearts, every walk a noble quest...
For young fools whose hearts beat madly, when life was best.
The songs we sang, the games we played, the mess we made,
And yet I long for those days, as this age is cast in such shade!
Light is scarce, and I seek it where I may, even in bygone days,
When the world was simpler, and nobler were all human ways.
With the eyes of a child, I try to see the world as once I'd done,
And the light is still there, beckoning to me both fair and so fun!

So many eyes are dulled with time, but mine sparkle with mirth,
For why must we age ourselves so far beyond our mortal birth!
Surely the gods must laugh, for we deprive ourselves of glory...
Every time we forget a happy season, or a once-beloved story.
I remember every game I played, every book I have ever read,
For in golden memories we recall the taste of jams and bread...
Or cookies baked fresh upon the stove, one chilly autumn day.
Cast not aside your happiness nor what made it feel that way!
The touch of silk upon the skin, the sound of leaves that rustle,
Each can be soft and soothing to the soul, each a dear time...
When life was unhurried and yet we went about with a bustle,
Running with the energy of youth, never seeing it as sublime.

Too soon we grow old, and all too soon a mortal must perish...
But what defines a life is what we keep eternal: all we cherish!
So much living I must do, so many hours yet to fill with mad joy,
And I will love each hour as I did, as a child with a favorite toy.
Why do we no longer walk in the woods, or play in the leaves?
What makes those joys for childhood alone, nobody ever sees!
Because joy is for everybody, and no age can take it from you,
Unless you will it, so walk in joy my friends and laugh ever true!
Sadness will come in its' hour; seek it not, for no good lies thus,
In making of life a torment, and of every difficulty so much fuss.
Christmas is nigh; let your hearts unburden themselves anew...
Let us join hands like little children, so each dream comes true!

Glory, glory let us sing, each girl a queen and each boy a king...
Gather all around the tree, and count each and every blessing!
Soon we'll hear the sound of music, and the ringing of the bells,
Perhaps we'll forget the logic of the years, and believe in elves!
Oh gods to know such joy again, this world has so much need...
So let us mortals do our part, and in each heart plant this seed!
The seed of joy for Christmas time, from which new joys spring,
Glory, glory, let us sing, each girl a queen and each boy a king!
Dance and let loudly your voices proclaim the happiness within,
For which we have longed throughout the year, with such vigor.
In mad abandon, let us forget the darkness of sadness and sin…
That can ensnare the will like some terrible and ferocious tiger!

Outside, the trees may sway with the wind and cold may come,
But within each heart that is content, the chill may be undone...
Remember the angels we made in the snow in yet another age?
They are only gone when we forget, and fill our souls with rage.
Remember the pets we loved so much, the faithful dog, or cat?
Their spirits are still with us, and the memory of where they sat.
Even loved ones lost to time, can share with us in joys unborn,
So let us be joyful upon this season and have us a merry morn!
Somewhere elves are singing with us, and pegasi are flying high,
Somewhere beyond the northern lights, even beyond the sky...
That is where our dreams can soar; we need only let them go,
To gain the wings of angels, and fly where gentler winds blow!
Written by Kou_Indigo (Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
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