Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts

Monday, 24 December 2018

Blogmas Day 24: Twas The Night Before Christmas - Clement Clarke Moore



'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too--
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight--
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"


Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/twas-the-night-before-christmas-by-clement-clarke-moore

Sunday, 23 December 2018

Blogmas Day 23: All That is Christmas Poet: Julie Hebert


Christmas is more than just presents,It's love and harmony.Together with friends and family,
Laughing and being funny.
We sing so many carols,
That we can't forget the tunes.
Christmas is so very exciting,
Especially in the afternoons.
Mornings are about Santa,
Exchanging our lovely gifts.
But afternoons are about loving,
All those who we feel fit. 


Wednesday, 19 December 2018

Blogmas Day 19: This Christmas From The Editors of McCall's Magazine


This Christmas, mend a quarrel. 
Seek out a forgotten friend. 
Dismiss suspicion, and replace it with trust. 
Write a love letter. Share some treasure. 
Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. 
Manifest your loyalty in word and deed. 
Keep a promise. Find the time. 
Forgo a grudge. Forgive an enemy. 
Listen. Apologize if you were wrong. Try to understand. 
Flout envy. Examine your demands on others. 
Think first of someone else. Appreciate. 
Be kind; be gentle. Laugh a little. Laugh a little more. 
Deserve confidence. Take up arms against malice. 
Decry complacency. Express your gratitude. 
Go to church. Welcome a stranger. 
Gladden the heart of a child. 
Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth. 
Speak your love. Speak it again. Speak it still once again.

Christmas is celebration, and there is no celebration 
that compares with the realization of its true meaning - 
with the sudden stirring of the heart that has extended
itself toward the core of life. Then, only then,
is it possible to grasp the significance of the first Christmas - 
to savor in the inward ear the wild, sweet music of the angel choir;
to envision the star-struck sky, and glimpse, 
behind the eyelids the ray of light that fell athwart 
a darkened path and changed the world. 


Tuesday, 18 December 2018

Blogmas Day 18: Christmas Is A Time by Catherine Pulsifer


Excitement and anticipation 
For boys and girls
A time for dreams and whishes.

A time for families to come together
A time for friends to celebrate
A time for fun and good cheer
A time for caroling and music too.

A time to decorate the house
And trim the tree.
A time to wrap the presents
And fill the stockings.

But at Christmas time we 
Should remember that first Christmas
Take the time to thank God above
For sending His son for those He loves. 


Saturday, 15 December 2018

Blogmas Day 15: Christmas For All Ages - Julie Hebert


When we were kids ourselves,
We thought of Christmas time,
To be just for us,
Parents were not the prime.

But now that we are older,
We see that Christmas is great.
Not just for young children,
But for for us adults who love to celebrate


Friday, 14 December 2018

Blogmasy Day 14: It's Not . . . It Is



It's sharing your gifts, not purchasing gifts;
It's not wrapping presents, 
It's being present
and wrapping your arms around the ones you love;
It's not getting Christmas cards out on time.
It's sending any card, anytime, at the right time;
It's not having the biggest and best Christmas light display,
It's displaying the Christ light that comes from your heart;
It's not Santa coming down the chimney, 
It's Jesus coming down from heaven,
and giving us the gift of eternal life.


Wednesday, 12 December 2018

Blogmas Day 12: Dear Santa - Kate Summers

am writing to say there is not much I need
I will let you choose and no matter I will be happy indeed.
You can get me some crayons or a book or anything that is red;
We get lots of snow so you could bring me a sled.
Thank you Santa for visiting me
When you get here make sure to look at my tree.
For beside it, I will leave some cookies and milk for you
For the reindeer I will leave carrots too.




Tuesday, 11 December 2018

Blogmas Day 11: Old Santa Claus - Maud L. Betts


Old Santa Claus is a jolly man

Who brings us lots of toys, sir;
And none are happier Christmas time
Than little girls and boys, sir.



Have you not seen our Santa Claus,
With hair so snowy white, sir?
Just hang your stocking Christmas eve,
He'll come that very night, sir.



And if you watch, perhaps you'll see
This friend in furs hid deep, sir.
But I have never seen him once
I'm always fast asleep, sir.



Santa Claus is jolly, sir;
Santa Claus is kind, sir;
Santa Claus on Christmas eve
Comes riding on the wind, sir.




https://www.wow4u.com/christmas-poems/ 

Blogmas Day 10: Don't Let Christmas Be by Catherine Pulsifer


Don't let Christmas be a time to be stressed
Don't let Christmas be a time to overspend
Don't let Christmas be a time to of no rest
Don't let Christmas be a time to ignore good friends.

Let Christmas be a joyous time
Let Christmas be a relaxing and happy holiday
Let Christmas be sharing of your dimes
Let Christmas be love in many ways. 





Sunday, 9 December 2018

Blogmas Day 9: A Christmas Message - Julie Hebert


I have a message for you,
And I do believe it's grand.
During this Christmas Season,
It's time to take a stand.

Remember the reason for Christmas,
And what it represents.
Jesus, loving and welcoming,
It's not just about presents.

So take this Christmas message,
And pass it far and wide.
Christmas is a time for caring,
Let's share this message, amplified


Saturday, 8 December 2018

Blogmas Day 8: Still Stops Our World by Catherine Pulsifer



Christmas a time for children
That is for certain
But for others 
It is time to love your brothers.
A time where we do see peace,
Where fighting actually does cease.
Giving gifts and sharing with all, 
When the world seems anew.
Like that first Christmas morn,
When Jesus was born.
A miracle that happened long ago,
Still stops our world and shines a glow. 


Friday, 7 December 2018

Blogmas Day 7 - Snowball by Shel Silverstein

I made myself a snowball,
As perfect as could be,
I thought I’d keep it as a pet,
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas,
And a pillow for its head,
Then last night it ran away,
But first – it wet the bed!




Thursday, 6 December 2018

Blogmas Day 6: A Chubby Snowman

A chubby little snowman
had a carrot nose.
Along came a bunny,
and what do you suppose?
That hungry little bunny,
looking for some lunch,
Grabbed that snowman’s nose,
Nibble, nibble, crunch!

Wednesday, 5 December 2018

Blogmas Day 5: Christmas

Every time a hand reaches out
To help another….that is Christmas
Every time someone puts anger aside
And strives for understanding
That is Christmas
Every time people forget their differences
And realize their love for each other
That is Christmas
May this Christmas bring us
Closer to the spirit of human understanding
Closer to the blessing of peace!

Tuesday, 4 December 2018

Blogmas Day 4: Christmas is a holiday for friends - Nicholas Gordon

Christmas is a holiday for friends,
However they may be, or not, related.
Remember that the three wise kings were strangers
In search of one remote, uncanny dream.
So may we all be far more than we seem,
Together bound for dark and haunting changes,
More lovely for the loves we have created
Along the lonely paths from means to ends,
Stumbling towards that star of Bethlehem.

Monday, 3 December 2018

Blogmas Day 3: The Joy Of Giving - John Greenleaf Whittier

Somehow, not only for Christmas,
But all the long year through,
The joy that you give to others
Is the joy that comes back to you;
And the more you spend in blessing
The poor and lonely and sad,
The more of your heart’s possessing
Returns to make you glad.


Sunday, 2 December 2018

Blogmas Day 2: The Littlest Christmas Tree - Amy Peterson

The littlest Christmas tree
lived in a meadow of green
among a family
of tall evergreens.
He learned how to whisper
the evergreen song
with the slightest of wind
that came gently along.

He watched as the birds
made a home out of twigs,
and couldn't wait till
he, too, was big.
For all of the trees
offered a home,
the maple, the pine, and the oak,
who's so strong.

"I hate being little,"
the little tree said,
"I can't even turn colors
like the maple turns red.
I can't help the animals
like the mighty old oak.
He shelters them all
in his wide mighty cloak."

The older tree said,
"Why, little tree, you don't know?
The story of a mighty king
from the land with no snow?"
Little tree questioned,
"A land with no snow?"
"Yes!" said old tree,
"A very old story,
from so long ago."

"A star appeared, 
giving great light
over a manger,
on long winter's night.
A baby was born, 
a king of all kings,
and with him comes love
over all things."

"He lived in a country
all covered in sand,
and laid down his life
to save all of man."

Little tree thought of the gift
given by him,
then the big tree said with the 
happiest grin,
"We're not just trees,
but a reminder of that day
There's a much bigger part
of a role that we play!"

"For on Christmas eve,
my life I'll lay down,
in exchange for a happier,
loving ground.
And as I stand dying,
they'll adorn me in trim.
This all will be done
in memory of him."

"Among a warm fire, 
with family and friends,
in the sweet songs of Christmas,
I'll find my great end.
Then ever so gently,
He'll come down to see
and take me to heaven,
Jesus and me."

"So you see, little tree,
we are not like the oak
who shelters all things
beneath his great cloak.
Nor are we like the maple
in fall,
whose colors leave many
standing in awe."

"The gift that we give
is ourselves, limb for limb,
the greatest of honor,
in memory of him."

The little tree bowed
his head down and cried
and thought of the king 
who willingly died.
For what kind of gift
can anyone give
than to lay down your life
when you wanted to live?

A swelling of pride 
came over the tree.
Can all of this happen
Because of just me?
Can I really bring honor?
By adorning a home?
By reminding mankind
that he's never alone?

With this thought, little tree
began singing with glee.
Happy and proud
to be a true Christmas tree.

You can still hear them singing
even the smallest in height,
singing of Christmas
and that one holy night.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-littlest-christmas-tree

Saturday, 1 December 2018

Blogmas Day 1: Christmas Time - Ronald Doe

Christmas time is finally here.
It only comes but once a year,
And it's a time to spread good cheer
To those we love and hold so dear.

Christmas time is a time of glee,
A time when peace and love run free,
A time for those like you and me
To sit beneath the Christmas tree.

Christmas time is a time of joy,
A time to sit back and enjoy
The smile on each girl and boy,
As they play with a Christmas toy.

Christmas time is a time to share
The passing of another year.
Birth of Jesus, a joyful prayer,
To show loved ones how much we care.

Christmas time is a time for song,
A time for us to get along,
To make us feel Lord Jesus strong,
Forgive all those who did us wrong.

Christmas time is a time to pray,
Put love and kindness on display,
Show compassion along the way.
Christmas time should be every day.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/christmas-time

Saturday, 26 March 2016

Eyes Like Lighthouses When The Boats Come Home - Dane Cobain



Synopsis

Eyes Like Lighthouses is Dane Cobain’s first book of poetry, distilled from the sweat of a thousand memorised performances in this reality and others. It’s not for the faint-hearted.

“I’ve never seen anyone do a stream of consciousness piece as talented as that. Very impressed.” – Mark Allard-Will, author of Saskatch-A-Man and co-founder of Cuckoo’s Nest Press

“Dane’s poetry is a multi-layered spiral of the macabre, quirky humour and disjointed imagery. Not only does he make you think, he captures the small forgotten moments of everyday life.” – Nikki Dudley, co-editor of Streetcake Magazine

“…[Dane] combines concrete detail with socioeconomic concerns.” – Lorna Wood, associate editor of Gemini Magazine


Review:

So here I am again with a poetry read, it was a great break from my usual young adult and fantasy reads. Dane contacted me with options of works to read. I chose all of them after finding out I was able to.

Eyes Like Lighthouses When The Boats Come Home was a refreshing read, truthful, uncensored raw poetry. Each piece an insight into a topic of the world.

The poems were pure and powerful, I fell in love with several pieces, I could relate to them easily and that was one thing I loved so much when I was reading these pieces.

One piece named; Like A Landlocked Light-house had been one I had loved a lot, so much I went back to re read it a few more times before writing this review.

I can say that some people will not like the truth written within the read, or the language which is used but I found that both of them really made the collection of poems all that more of a need to read.

I can say it's a clear 5/5 frim me, and a definite read for anyone who wants to see everything in a truthful brutal poetic light.

Friday, 11 December 2015

Blogmas Day 11 - The Three Kings Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 
 
Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.

The star was so beautiful, large, and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere,
And by this they knew that the coming was near
Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.

Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows,
Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,
Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.

And so the Three Kings rode into the West,
Through the dusk of night, over hill and dell,
And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast
And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest,
With the people they met at some wayside well.

"Of the child that is born," said Baltasar,
"Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews."

And the people answered, "You ask in vain;
We know of no king but Herod the Great!"
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain,
Like riders in haste, and who cannot wait.

And when they came to Jerusalem,
Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,
Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;
And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem,
And bring me tidings of this new king."

So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the gray of morn
Yes, it stopped, it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,
The city of David where Christ was born.

And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,
Through the silent street, till their horses turned
And neighed as they entered the great inn-yard;
But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred,
And only a light in the stable burned.

And cradled there in the scented hay,
In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
The little child in the manger lay,
The child, that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human but divine.

His mother Mary of Nazareth
Sat watching beside his place of rest,
Watching the even flow of his breath,
For the joy of life and the terror of death
Were mingled together in her breast.

They laid their offerings at his feet:
The gold was their tribute to a King,
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,
The myrrh for the body's burying.

And the mother wondered and bowed her head,
And sat as still as a statue of stone;
Her heart was troubled yet comforted,
Remembering what the Angel had said
Of an endless reign and of David's throne.

Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,
With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,
     And returned to their homes by another way.     
 
 
 
 
 
 
      (I haven't ever heard this poem  so upon discovery I wanted to share it with you guys)