Halloween is the oldest holiday in the English-speaking world, second only to Christmas. Many of us celebrate the eve of All Saints’ Day without knowing the origins of the holiday. People used to ask their ancestors’ spirits to help them to get a good harvest in the coming year through placating with treats and gifts. However, if we do not go back in history, now it is quite a cheerful holiday.
«A Halloween Poem For Children» by Kevin Greenwood
No one heard the old Gal make a word A sound or noise any Christian ever heard As she walked through the village once every moon To buy some few vittles and leave none too soon.
Her purchases gripped in a dark burlap sack Which she’d owned forever and fit ‘cross her back. Town folk would glance up from their every town’s chore In hope this time they’d see her no more.
Now a young girl called Mattie, a postal clerk’s lass Sat curly and giddy as the yon harridan passed Unlike her town folk whose fear made them shy She stood next to the mile marker and caught the hag’s eye.
“Go home my plum lassie, you’ve nothing with me,” Spoke the old woman coarsely as she turned round a tree But Mattie had studied about a reply And was soon to speak it when a trick caught her eye.
For the old tree was rotten and hollow inside Mattie thought the old woman crawled in it to hide With her eyes wide as saucers she peeked curiously within Two wrinkled arms grabbed her and she was not seen again.
***
«A Rhyme for Halloween» by Maurice Kilwein Guevara
Tonight I light the candles of my eyes in the lee
And swing down this branch full of red leaves.
Yellow moon, skull and spine of the hare,
Arrow me to town on the neck of the air.
I hear the undertaker make love in the heather;
The candy maker, poor fellow, is under the weather.
Skunk, moose, raccoon, they go to the doors in threes
With a torch in their hands or pleas: “O, please . . .”
Baruch Spinoza and the butcher are drunk:
One is the tail and one is the trunk
Of a beast who dances in circles for beer
And doesn’t think twice to learn how to steer.
Our clock is blind, our clock is dumb.
Its hands are broken, its fingers numb.
No time for the martyr of our fair town
Who wasn’t a witch because she could drown.
Now the dogs of the cemetery are starting to bark
At the vision of her, bobbing up through the dark.
When she opens her mouth to gasp for air,
A moth flies out and lands in her hair.
The apples are thumping, winter is coming.
The lips of the pumpkin soon will be humming.
By the caw of the crow on the first of the year,
Something will die, something appear.
***
«Autumn Offering» by Judith A. Lawrence
I shall be Autumn this Halloween, with leaf draped skirt, and folds of boysenberry velvet wine flowing to the ground.
Brown stained face, eyes rimmed in gold, nails dripping sunset, a crown of twigs to cover my head.
You may gather from me the spring of my youth, my summer of maturity, and hold onto with me, the solace of these days of remembering before the frost.
***
«Beyond The Last Lamp» by Thomas Hardy
While rain, with eve in partnership Descended darkly, drip, drip, drip Beyond the last lone lamp I passed Walking slowly, whispering sadly Two linked loiterers, wan, downcast: Some heavy thought constrained each face And blinded them to time and place.
The pair seemed lovers, yet absorbed In mental scenes no longer orbed By love’s young rays. Each countenance As it slowly, as it sadly Caught the lamplight’s yellow glance Held in suspense a misery At things which had been or might be.
When I retrod that watery way Some hours beyond the droop of day Still I found pacing there the twain Just as slowly, just as sadly Heedless of the night and rain. One could but wonder who they were And what wild woe detained them there.
Though thirty years of blur and blot Have slid since I beheld that spot And saw in curious converse there Moving slowly, moving sadly That mysterious tragic pair Its olden look may linger on – All but the couple; they have gone.
Whither? Who knows, indeed … And yet To me, when nights are weird and wet Without those comrades there at tryst Creeping slowly, creeping sadly That lone lane does not exist. There they seem brooding on their pain And will, while such a lane remain.
***
«Black Cats, Beware!» by Melissa A. Herod
To all black cats, please listen keen! Do fight the urge to see, be seen. Tonight, avoid all humans mean. My dears: Stay in on Halloween!
Resist the call to go outside! Best inside your house to hide! Resist the siren call of night And ponder on the firelight.
Sit by the hearth and warm your toes, Whilst evil comes and evil goes. Resist temptation on this night. Avoid a dark, nightmarish fright!
Your human knows to keep you safe. Against her will, please do not chafe! Curl up beside her, let her know There’s no place else you’d rather go!
And while she strokes your raven mane, Please calm your wild and keep your sane. For danger lurks on such a night, From humans who are human blight, Who must do wrong, and ne’er do right. And search for victims till the light– Black cats they seek, and not the white!
For they believe the ancient tales Of witches and their potent ales, Of feline consorts, black as coal, Whose green eyes mask an evil soul.
And even in these modern times, Those gothic bells of fear still chime. Those ancient fools of superstition Tell modern ghouls: Fulfill your mission!
And what if you are all alone? My dear black cat, and have no home? Are homeless night and homeless day, No bowls for you, you hunt your prey. And pray you find a home someday.
Dry bags and garbage for your bed, Each night to rest your weary head. You too must hide and seek the safe– Oh, heed my plea, dear feline waif!
To all beloved felines black, Stay safe this night and watch your back! For Halloween will soon be o’er, And you are safe for one year more!
***
«Black Hood» by Amy Pan
You know you’ve seen it around before Tailing your car to the grocery store. Just out of sight from where you stood That fleeting and unforgettable black hood.
From the back of the line in the coffee shop To the streets, hidden behind a bus stop. ‘It’s following me,’ you decide for good. That evasive and eerie black hood.
Taunting you, holding a bouquet of flowers A haunting feeling you remember for hours Frightening you more than it should, That ominous and daunting black hood.
Jolting awake in the middle of the night It’s outside of your window; your fear ignites. Losing more sleep than you ever thought you could, That sinister and possessive black hood.
Now you can’t even walk down the hall Without panicking; it’s everywhere…yet nowhere at all Your crutch is the wall and its sturdy wood That terrifying and ubiquitous black hood.
It’s paralyzed you, with fear and uncertainty Snatching your thoughts and seizing your clarity If you knew a way to stop this, you would That uncontrollable and engrossing black hood.
Today is Halloween, the day of the dead. Trudging home with feet heavier than lead, You hear footsteps behind you, so you stop in your tracks. You’re shaking with terror, that feeling is back.
But this time, it’s different; something’s wrong. Though your fear is the same, ever so strong, Now it’s closer, behind you, there’s a knife at your back! The last thing you see before the world turns black… is a Hood.
***
«Black Trees, Ghosts, And Bumble Bees» by Coral Leffew
Lying on your bed just like every other night, There is something that’d give grown men fright, There’s a black figure stalking in the night, And it won’t go away until dark turns to light, It’s the very thing that we all give up breathing, It’s the latest toy it’s a werewolf being, It’s so scary and it’s breathing in the night, The creature jumps off and it takes to flight,
You can scream all you want to but that won’t scare, Too small for a dragon but too large for a bear, Leave your lights turned on and turn up your favorite song, Call in your parents but they won’t help you now, You’ve gone too far so you can’t get back out, It’s not that silly monster in your closet, Your Aunt’s picture in your heart shaped locket, No old black magic or any trick of the mind, It pulls you in and soon you’re entwined
***
«Fearful, Foggy Night» by Patricia L. Cisco
Damp darkness befalls as gray fog settles in. Frightening shadows lingering within.
Footsteps echo through the black, eerie night With scrapings and rustlings, yet nothing in sight.
Misty clouds floating across the dull moon. Heart stopping feelings of horror and doom.
Howling squeals pierce the smoggy air. My heart pounding harder in panicky fear.
The faster and faster I try to race, My shaky, weak legs won’t keep up the pace.
A scary, awful blood-curdling scream. I feel so faint, as if in a dream.
Ghostly eyes glowing in bushes distant, Getting closer and closer in an instant.
Frozen stiff, I shut my eyes tight, Holding my breath with all my might.
Then swishing past in the chilly breeze, Opening one eye, I suddenly breathe.
Finally putting my fears at ease. Oh, it’s just Trick or Treaters on All Hallows’ Eve!
***
«Field of Skulls» by Mary Karr
Stare hard enough at the fabric of night,
and if you’re predisposed to dark—let’s say
the window you’ve picked is a black
postage stamp you spend hours at,
sleepless, drinking gin after the I Love
Lucy reruns have gone off—stare
like your eyes have force, and behind
any night’s taut scrim will come the forms
you expect pressing from the other side.
For you: a field of skulls, angled jaws
and eye-sockets, a zillion scooped-out crania.
They’re plain once you think to look.
You know such fields exist, for criminals
roam your very block, and even history lists
monsters like Adolf and Uncle Joe
who stalk the earth’s orb, plus minor baby-eaters
unidentified, probably in your very midst. Perhaps
that disgruntled mail clerk from your job
has already scratched your name on a bullet—that’s him
rustling in the azaleas. You caress the thought,
for it proves there’s no better spot for you
than here, your square-yard of chintz sofa, hearing
the bad news piped steady from your head. The night
is black. You stare and furious stare,
confident there are no gods out there. In this way,
you’re blind to your own eye’s intricate machine
and to the light it sees by, to the luck of birth and all
your remembered loves. If the skulls are there—
let’s say they do press toward you
against night’s scrim—could they not stare
with slack jawed envy at the fine flesh
that covers your scalp, the numbered hairs,
at the force your hands hold?
***
«From The City Of Dreadful» by James Thomson
The City is of Night, but not of Sleep; There sweet sleep is not for the weary brain; The pitiless hours like years and ages creep A night seems termless hell. This dreadful strain Of thought and consciousness which never ceases Or which some moments’ stupor but increases This, worse than woe, makes wretches there insane.
They leave all hope behind who enter there: One certitude while sane they cannot leave One anodyne for torture and despair; The certitude of Death, which no reprieve Can put off long; and which, divinely tender But waits the outstretched hand to promptly render That draught whose slumber nothing can bereave.
***
«From The Lady Of The Manor» by George Crabbe
Next died the Lady who yon Hall possessed; And here they brought her noble bones to rest. In Town she dwelt:- forsaken stood the Hall: Worms ate the floors, the tapestry fled the wall: No fire the kitchens cheerless grate displayed;
No cheerful light the long-closed sash conveyed; The crawling worm, that turns a summer-fly, Here spun his shroud and laid him up to die The winter-death:- upon the bed of sate, The bat shrill-shrieking wooed his flickering mate; To empty rooms the curious came no more, From empty cellars turned the angry poor, And surly beggars cursed the ever-bolted door.
***
«From The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner» by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The loud wind never reached the ship Yet now the ship moved on! Beneath the lightning and the Moon The dead men gave a groan.
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze up-blew; The mariners all ‘gan work the ropes Where they were wont to do; They raised their limbs like lifeless tools – We were a ghastly crew.
The body of my brother’s son Stood by me, knee to knee: The body and I pulled at one rope But he said nought to me.
“I fear thee, ancient Mariner!” Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest! ‘Twas not those souls that fled in pain Which to their corses came again But a troop of spirits blest:
For when it dawned – they dropped their arms And clustered round the mast; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths And from their bodies passed.
***
«Ghost Bus» by Joe Wayman
Underneath the lamp post, In the middle of the night, A ghost bus make a silent stop, A strange and fearful sight.
At the bus top at your corner, Something big and green climbed down. It’s looking for your bedroom, And it has searched all over town.
You thought it couldn’t find you, That you were safe and you were sound. You thought that you could hide, Where you never could be found.
But now it’s almost here, You know it loves the dark of night. There’s only one thing you can do, Quick! Turn on the light!
Whew!
***
«Hallowe’en» by John Kendrick Bangs
Bring forth the raisins and the nuts – To-night All Hallows’ Spectre struts Along the moonlit way. No time is this for tear or sob Or other woes our joys to rob But time for Pippin and for Bob And Jack-o’-lantern gay.
Come forth, ye lass and trousered kid From prisoned mischief raise the lid And lift it good and high Leave grave old Wisdom in the lurch Set folly on a lofty perch Nor fear the awesome rod of birch When dawn illumes the sky.
‘Tis night for revel, set apart To reillume the darkened heart And rout the hosts of Dole. ‘Tis night when Goblin, Elf, and Fay Come dancing in their best array To prank and royster on the way And ease the troubled soul.
The ghosts of all things past parade Emerging from the mist and shade That hid them from our gaze And, full of song and ringing mirth In one glad moment of rebirth And again they walk the ways of earth As in the ancient days.
The beacon light shines on the hill The will-o’-wisps the forests fill With flashes filched from noon; And witches on their broomsticks spry Speed here and yonder in the sky And lift their strident voices high Unto the Hunter’s Moon.
The air resounds with tuneful notes From myriads of straining throats All hailing Folly Queen; So join the swelling choral throng Forget your sorrow and your wrong In one glad hour of joyous song To honor Hallowe’en!
***
«Halloween Chills» by Denise M. Cocchiaro
On this night of spooks and gnomes Of swooning leaves and cringing crones Of legends told from ear to ear Of shrieking cats that grin and sneer
Over the hill and past the tree A haunted house there said to be With chill and mist to pierce your soul And whispering winds to keep you cold
Heed the whispers straight from hell To keep you safe from witchy spells For through this night of devilish play All who tread will rue the day
***
«Halloween Eyes» by Larry E. Myers
Elegant in burnt orange afterglow, Sparkling darkness opens the show. Strangers arriving from all around; Some even, from the bad side of town.
They come afoot and driven by car; Toddlers in strollers, they can’t walk far. Mothers shouting orders to stay in sight, Transgressors will rightly rue this night.
Flickering lights and untied laces; Stomping feet going through their paces. Scampering legs are willing accomplices, To smiling eyes and hideous faces.
Through the gauntlet of terror they swarm; Decked to play in pillaging uniform. Tree and flower tremble and waiver; Bumped and trampled in their fervor.
Garish masks obscure excited grins. Shrieks of joy emanate from within. Ghostly spirits from the bowels of earth, Hang from limbs, grinning in ghoulish mirth.
Silken chains embracing all who stray, Beckons the widow to her frightened prey. Garnished by howling cries of certain demise; Steaming cauldrons await their fleshy prize.
Engraved heads from the garden of Hades, Impotent charms to appease candied fantasies, Festooned arches bedecked in orange and black, Ornate ornaments to win the neighborhood plaque;
Hostiles charitably looting town; Sacks of booty slowing them down. With bulging bags filled with plunder, The advancing hordes scatter asunder.
Like tocks from a clock they continue to arrive, Will the morrow find villagers still alive? Spades of woe befall each who rashly ignore, Ominous omens glued to shop window and door.
Pass me by, to my neighbor grace his stage; Assuage with him your gluttonous rage. Rapacious hands swaying in ritual dance; Exuberance untethered in blitzing advance.
Eyeing my castle the motley mobs charge in, Guarded but by growlin’ dog an’ smilin’ pumpkin; Upon my stoop they brazenly climb, My breath on hold, I hear the chime;
My time I fear is near at hand, My blood or treasure they demand; Hunkered down and hidden from sight, No mercy presented for my plight;
With sweaty palms and pounding heart, Please Lord I pray, make them depart; For a shot of Scotch I silently scream, Cuz I forgot the candy on Halloween!
***
«Halloween in the Anthropocene» by Craig Santos Perez
Darkness spills across the sky like an oil plume.
The moon reflects bleached coral. Tonight, let us
praise the sacrificed. Praise the souls of black
boys, enslaved by supply chains, who carry
bags of cacao under West African heat. “Trick
or treat, smell my feet, give me something good
to eat,” sings a girl dressed as a Disney princess.
Let us praise the souls of brown girls who sew
our clothes as fire unthreads sweatshops into
smoke and ash. “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me
something good,” whisper kids disguised as ninjas.
Tonight, let us praise the souls of Asian children
who manufacture toys and tech until gravity sharpens
their bodies enough to cut through suicide nets.
“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me,” shout boys
camouflaged as soldiers. Let us praise the souls
of veterans who salute with their guns because
only triggers will pull God into their ruined
temples. “Trick or treat, smell my feet,” chant kids
masquerading as cowboys and Indians. Tonight,
let us praise the souls of native youth, whose eyes
are open-pit uranium mines, veins are poisoned
rivers, hearts are tar sands tailings ponds. “Trick
or treat,” says a boy dressed as the sun. Let us
praise El Niño, his growing pains, praise his mother,
Ocean, who is dying in a warming bath among dead
fish and refugee children. Let us praise our mothers
of asthma, mothers of cancer clusters, mothers of
miscarriage — pray for us — because our costumes
won’t hide the true cost of our greed. Praise our
mothers of lost habitats, mothers of fallout, mothers
of extinction — pray for us — because even tomorrow
will be haunted — leave them, leave us, leave —
***
«Halloween Is Here» by John P. Read
Dark and mysterious creepy night. Pumpkin masks shining bright. Scary monsters, witches’ brew. Trick or treat you have to choose.
Some dark stranger knocking at my door. Is he the devil? I’m not too sure. All I can see is hiss silhouette. I’ve never believed in ghosts, yet still I sweat.
Yes, Halloween’s arrived; there’s no place to hide When ghosts and demons come alive. Halloween night has lost its way. Too many crazy people now come out to play.
So, I’ll close my curtains, Switch off the lights. They’ll be no Trick or Treat For me this night.
***
«Halloween Night» by Denise M. Cocchiaro
When days grow short and nights get cold And autumn trees turn red and gold, Move, we may, through sun drenched days ‘Midst leaves and berries and bales of hay.
In our hearts we feel the lure Toward darkness, shivers, and things not pure, While ghostly shadows creep slowly by, Spying on witches and brooms that fly.
Icy fingers that grab their prey And do bad things ’til night turns to day. Heed this plea to stay inside. Find covers and blankets and sheets to hide.
Slowly this night will fade to day And fiends and monsters will crawl away. Once a year, on this dank night, We’ll shake and shiver ’til morning light.
***
«Halloween Night» by Charlotte Bancroft
Halloween night is not what it seems; Ghosts and ghouls haunting your dreams.
I walk among the spooky, old shack. Clenching my fists, I am ready for attack.
A witch flies by on her broomstick, Trying to steal my candle’s wick.
Leaving me in the dark, Hearing only the echo of a bark.
The wolves howl, As the black cats prowl.
Zombies rise from the ground, Buried graves cannot be found.
These things may give you a fright, But it is only the beginning of Halloween Night.
***
«Halloween Party» by Kenn Nesbit
We’re having a Halloween party at school.
I’m dressed up like Dracula. Man, I look cool!
I dyed my hair black, and I cut off my bangs.
I’m wearing a cape and some fake plastic fangs.
I put on some makeup to paint my face white,
like creatures that only come out in the night.
My fingernails, too, are all pointed and red.
I look like I’m recently back from the dead.
My mom drops me off, and I run into school
and suddenly feel like the world’s biggest fool.
The other kids stare like I’m some kind of freak—
the Halloween party is not till next week.
***
«Halloween Passes Us By» by Alice Mae
Each nose is twitching, excitement is itching. Bats in our belfry are shy. The hour of witching is rather bewitching Halloween will soon pass us by
Dressed as a witch, in a pin and a stitch, Hoping to fly over the sky. Inspired with fun, Halloween has begun, But soon it will pass us on by.
The flying broom skips out of the room Where black birds catch up on the fly. Owls run away when sun breaks the day Before Halloween passes us by.
Scarecrows and witches with patches on britches, Wild corn grown hang on the husk. Children all happy in costumes so snappy With parties and dress ups till dusk.
Boil and bubble a pot of fun trouble. Halloween pumpkin pie. From out of the rubble, excitement will double Before Halloween passes on by.
***
«Halloween Scream» by Jeff Opperman
One ghostly ghoul, one green eyed goblin The headstones say; You got a problem To venture on my porch tonight Might want to hold your mummy tight Lit with jack-o-lantern heads And zombies that we haven’t fed The bushes sing with raven calls Behind the webs the spiders crawl The lab that’s in the basement lit Where Dracula and Wolf man sit With Frankenstein just playing cards While mother hangs out in the yard Now candies dandy, but a tricks a treat Oh I love the sound of running feet
***
«Halloween Sonnet» by Paul Cleere
When leaves start turning orange and golden-brown, Kids start to dress in costumes so dandy. For one day a year, all throughout the town It’s time for kids to amass some candy.
Every fun boy and girl shall don the mask, and with happiness, shall knock on the door. They all know what question they are to ask Trick or Treat? I want candy! Give me more!
Up in the sky, with the orange moon so full, A witch is joined by her fuzzy black cats. A scarecrow is leaning against a pole. The silence is broken by shrieking bats.
Halloween is not always full of fright, for anyone can be a kid that night.
***
«Halloween» by Ronald Doe
Halloween, blood gurgling scream Little children run and hide Ghost costumes and flying brooms On which evil witches ride
Haunted house, a shredded blouse A scarecrow in the backyard Graveyard love, vampire’s blood Can make this night seem so hard
Halloween, enchanted scene A night filled with pure terror Freddy Krueger, plastic Luger There is no room for error
Rotten eggs, a neighbor begs “Please don’t use toilet paper.” Pranksters prey and run away Like they just pulled a caper
Halloween, big eyes of green A black cat is hissing loud Ghosts say “Boo” and Mom warns you “Don’t stray too far from the crowd.”
Trick or treat, a candy sweet Also calories galore Get off track and circle back Maybe you will get some more
Halloween, number thirteen A night of goblins and ghosts Pumpkin patches, bag snatchers And a Jack-O-Lantern host
Pitch black night, kids filled with fright Enchanting and scary scene A full bag will make them brag And long for next Halloween
***
«Hallowe’en» by Joel Benton
Pixie, kobold, elf, and sprite
All are on their rounds to-night,—
In the wan moon’s silver ray
Thrives their helter-skelter play.
Fond of cellar, barn, or stack
True unto the almanac,
They present to credulous eyes
Strange hobgoblin mysteries.
Cabbage-stumps—straws wet with dew—
Apple-skins, and chestnuts too,
And a mirror for some lass
Show what wonders come to pass.
Doors they move, and gates they hide
Mischiefs that on moonbeams ride
Are their deeds,—and, by their spells,
Love records its oracles.
Don’t we all, of long ago
By the ruddy fireplace glow,
In the kitchen and the hall,
Those queer, coof-like pranks recall?
Every shadows were they then—
But to-night they come again;
Were we once more but sixteen
Precious would be Hallowe’en.
***
«Hallowe’en» by John Kendrick Bangs
Bring forth the raisins and the nuts—
To-night All Hallows’ Spectre struts
Along the moonlit way.
No time is this for tear or sob,
Or other woes our joys to rob,
But time for Pippin and for Bob,
And Jack-o’-lantern gay.
Come forth, ye lass and trousered kid,
From prisoned mischief raise the lid,
And lift it good and high.
Leave grave old Wisdom in the lurch,
Set folly on a lofty perch,
Nor fear the awesome rod of birch
When dawn illumes the sky.
‘Tis night for revel, set apart
To reillume the darkened heart,
And rout the hosts of Dole.
‘Tis night when Goblin, Elf, and Fay,
Come dancing in their best array
To prank and royster on the way,
And ease the troubled soul.
The ghosts of all things, past parade,
Emerging from the mist and shade
That hid them from our gaze,
And full of song and ringing mirth,
In one glad moment of rebirth,
Again they walk the ways of earth,
As in the ancient days.
The beacon light shines on the hill,
The will-o’-wisps the forests fill
With flashes filched from noon;
And witches on their broomsticks spry
Speed here and yonder in the sky,
And life their strident voices high
Unto the Hunter’s moon.
The air resounds with tuneful notes
From myriads of straining throats,
All hailing Folly Queen;
So join the swelling choral throng,
Forget your sorrow and your wrong,
In one glad hour of joyous song
To honor Hallowe’en.
***
«Hallows Eve» by Shelly Kuhn
Trees die and bleed onto the earth an ocean of orange, yellow and red Whilst you lay comfortably in your bed. The atmosphere thins, energy levels decrease. Souls emerge from the deceased To snack on your children’s sugary feasts. Little Joey pumped full of Hershey Kisses, Tootsie Rolls and candy corn. Never knowing they had been sucking the life out of him since the day he was born. They creep up from their graves each hallows eve. They have until sunrise before they have to leave. They come as shadows on the wall. Some are three inches and some are six foot tall. They wait until you are fast asleep. To the foot of your bed they begin to creep. With hallowed eyes and a hallow nose, They bend over to smell your toes. The aroma of your sugar hunt stirs up their deadly appetite. They feast on you all night. When the sun light peeks through the trees They are back to their resting place in a breeze.
***
«Haunted Houses» by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro.
There are more guests at table than the hosts Invited; the illuminated hall Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, As silent as the pictures on the wall.
The stranger at my fireside cannot see The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; He but perceives what is; while unto me All that has been is visible and clear.
We have no title-deeds to house or lands; Owners and occupants of earlier dates From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands, And hold in mortmain still their old estates.
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapoursdense A vital breath of more ethereal air.
Our little lives are kept in equipoise By opposite attractions and desires; The struggle of the instinct that enjoys, And the more noble instinct that aspires.
These perturbations, this perpetual jar Of earthly wants and aspirations high, Come from the influence of an unseen star An undiscovered planet in our sky.
And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light, Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd Into the realm of mystery and night,—
So from the world of spirits there descends A bridge of light, connecting it with this, O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends, Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.
***
«I Wouldn’t Live In A Haunted House» by Rick W. Cotton
I wouldn’t live in a haunted house; It’s something I just wouldn’t do. Not in creepy haunted house. Not with me or even with you.
There’s ghosties that hide in the shadows, And spiders spin webs down the walls. Things going bumpety all night long, And footsteps go stomping down halls.
Voices that whisper when nobody’s there And shadows abound in the nighttime. And just when you think all the ghouls have moved out, They return for some serious fright-time.
They’ll give you a poke on the back of your neck, Or someone unseen tugs your hair. You just know there’s someone standing behind If you dare to look…nobody’s there.
I wouldn’t live in a haunted house, But on the last of October, I might drop in for a quick little stay And bring all my candy right over.
When the sun goes down at the edge of town And the moon rises glorious yellow, There’s something in Halloween’s glowing time That makes all the ghosties quite mellow.
Then little ones come, dressed in costumes galore. A haunted house might be just dandy For you and I, Love, to spend our Halloween On our haunted porch, handing out candy!
***
«In Darkest Woods He Wandered» by Steve Mckee
In darkest woods he wandered, one moonless stormy night. The tree limbs made him shiver reaching out through lightning’s light.
The thunder rumbled its deep warning and spoke of dreadful things; for he was out on Halloween with all its dark heart brings.
His path led through the woods for miles and eyeballs watched him travel; He could feel their wicked smiles while trying hard not to unravel.
Would he live another hour or would dark forces take him down? Would they this traveler overpower? Did he hear hoof beats on the ground.
The thunder clapped the lightening flashed. The tree limbs reached to slap at him; He heard the evil cackle while all his senses seemed to dim.
The rain was in his face now as the storm just seemed to grow; he was lying on his back and how, he didn’t know.
The fear engulfed his total being he couldn’t even speak and all the evil he was seeing only served to make him weak.
He jerked awake and saw beside him another frightened form. Somehow they both were now together in this awful storm.
He looked at her beside him and said with eyes quite wide; I don’t feel like sleeping out, I think I’ll go inside!
***
«Macbeth, Act IV, Scene I» by William Shakespeare
The three witches, casting a spell
Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights hast thirty one Swelter’d venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse, Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver’d by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron, For the ingredients of our cauldron.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
***
«Mermaid» by Jeff Opperman
I bought a mermaid costume. Somehow I lost the scales. Wore it Halloween night And looked just like a whale.
Thought I’d dress as Dracula, On my face a little blood. Tripped on a cape that’s too long And now my name is mud.
White curly locks like Bo Peep, A staff there in my hand. All the old men gave me Snicker As down the street I ran.
Dressed as Richard Simons Right down to the shorts. All I got was fruit And exercise of course.
Dressed up like the king, And you thought Elvis dead. Of course I couldn’t sing. Just shook my booty instead.
Dressed up as a turkey Last Thanksgiving Day. Missed Halloween completely. What else can I say?
So have a happy trick-or-treat. Use your imagination, But when it comes to costumes, I’m thinking ramification.
***
«Monster» by Richard Maxson
Love was in the hopelessness of you, each word a part of how you would be.
Imaginings have a way of forming themselves from a wish for light, a wager to conceive a ghost.
This is how you were born from her, barely born herself. You, created twice, a story and a story’s child.
A god less knowing watched her write each page, the glory and the fear that was your life,
rising out of her desire, rising from a myth before her eyes, piece by piece, from dream to fire.
***
«Mr. Macklin’s Jack O’Lantern» by David McCord
Mr. Macklin takes his knife
And carves the yellow pumpkin face:
Three holes bring eyes and nose to life,
The mouth has thirteen teeth in place.
Then Mr. Macklin just for fun
Transfers the corn-cob pipe from his
Wry mouth to Jack’s, and everyone
Dies laughing! O what fun it is
Till Mr. Macklin draws the shade
And lights the candle in Jack’s skull.
Then all the inside dark is made
As spooky and as horrorful
As Halloween, and creepy crawl
The shadows on the tool-house floor,
With Jack’s face dancing on the wall.
O Mr. Macklin! where’s the door?
***
«My Friend Jack» by Rick W. Cotton
Jack comes every year to visit me, And his grin just makes me smile. Nearly toothless, he doesn’t care. He happily laughs all the while.
Eyes glowing in mirth and merriment, He makes this time of year happy, Though he’s not much in conversation, And he has no repartee snappy.
Jack just stays for a few weeks Every year when the leaves turn yellow. He’s as welcome as he could possibly be. He’s quite the fun old fellow.
Now the sun goes down and the moon comes up, And the costumed monsters come calling. Light a candle to get Jack going! Fast! The eventide’s falling!
All Halloween night he sits with me, Grinning to greet the neighbors ‘Til his candle’s gone and he goes to sleep. These are hours that I truly savor.
So long old Jack, tomorrow’s November! We’ll see you again next year! When you come to visit from the pumpkin patch, We will all be waiting right here!
***
«Mystic Magination Night!» by Patricia L. Cisco
On one mystic, magic night, Jack O Lanterns glowing bright, kids with bags of candy sweet, roam door to door and street to street, all dressed up for trick or treat!
Wizards with wands, pirates with hooks, monsters and clowns with spooky looks,
kings and queens with capes and crowns, a princess in her royal gown,
witches with warts and fairies with wings movies stars with sparkling rings,
vampires with fangs that bite, ghost that boo all dressed in white.
Imaginations taken flight, on that one mystic, magic night.
Oh, the fun of Halloween, be young or old or in between!
***
«One Good Scare» by Patricia A. Fleming
I saw a shadow passing by, Thinking it just a trick of the eye. I turned on the light, but no one was there, Though I noticed a fragrance, thick in the air.
Convinced all was well, I lay myself down, But then, without warning, came a frightening sound. I could hear right beside me, so crystal clear, Someone was breathing right in my ear.
I turned on the light and jumped out of my bed, This time I was certain it was not in my head. The quiet that followed seemed abnormally loud, And there, in the doorway, I saw a dark cloud.
It floated right toward me as fast as could be, And then it just stopped, quite suddenly. And there I could see an old woman’s shape, Dressed in a flowing, black, hooded cape.
Slowly her eyes looked straight into mine, I felt locked in her stare for what seemed a long time. But then she just smiled a sick, toothless grin. As she lapsed into a wild and swift, twirling spin.
I felt mesmerized by this terrible sight, Unable to move, paralyzed with fright. And then once again came that sweet, sickening smell, Perhaps, I was smelling the doorway to hell.
A sinister cackling filled up the room, She sounded like a murderous, malevolent loon. She reached out her hands with black, claw-like nails, And then from her mouth came a torturous wail.
Her spinning slowed down and came to stop, Just like a child’s toy, spinning top. And then she was gone, she just disappeared. But I sat there unmoving, still lost in stark fear.
Then I crawled back to bed and curled up by the light. Grasping my Bible with all of my might. Praying and praying with heartfelt concern, That this monstrous spirit might make a return.
I watched as the clock ticked the long night away, Longing for the light of a brand new day. And over and over, I relived what I’d seen, And then suddenly remembered, it was Halloween.
Well it gave me relief; I now lay there quite calm, The horror I felt was suddenly gone. That crazy old woman was supposed to be there, On this day, above all, I deserved one good scare.
Well I felt like a load had been lifted from me, And as I relaxed I fell quickly to sleep. But I never forgot what that night I had seen, And when I was treated to a true Halloween.
***
«Pumpkin, Oh Pumpkin» by Christopher R. Riddels
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, Your candle light’s bright. Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You shine bright through the night.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You sit on the porch. Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You’re a decorative torch.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, Your teeth so messed up, As you smile at the kids, As cute as a buttercup.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You bring me much joy. Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You make the children overjoyed.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You’re really a Jack-O’-Lantern
***
«Some One» by Walter de la Mare
Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Some one came knocking, I’m sure—sure—sure; I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right, But nought there was a-stirring In the still dark night; Only the busy beetle Tap-tapping on the wall, Only from the forest The screech-owl’s call, Only the cricket whistling While the dewdrops fall, So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.
***
«Song of the Witches: “Double, double toil and trouble” » by William Shakespeare
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
***
«Song Of The Witches» by William Shakespeare
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Harpier cries “‘Tis time, ’tis time.”
Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter’d venom sleeping got Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog Wool of bat and tongue of dog Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing For a charm of powerful trouble Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon’s blood Then the charm is firm and good.
By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes.
***
«St. Mary’s Cemetery in Missoula» by Anne M. Doe Overstreet
Richard walks among the stones his own ghost surely meets him there.
Some tilt or sag, others deeper sunk slink or have slunk beneath the yew to hear its hiss.
He scrolls the names, wets his lips, begins again reciting the dead and dying, giving each
a living sound. The tongue can honor bones long after they are dust. The pool of an eye fills up,
the ear crackles with static exhaled from that strange conversion back to stone and soil. From there,
mouth full of German women, he prays. Among their conscious breath’s small ceasings
his lovers, students, compose their forms for sleep, exhale a last and incoherent I am.
***
«The Apparition» by John Donne
When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I am dead And that thou think’st thee free From all solicitation from me Then shall my ghost come to thy bed And thee, feign’d vestal, in worse arms shall see; Then thy sick taper will begin to wink And he, whose thou art then, being tir’d before Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think Thou call’st for more And in false sleep will from thee shrink; And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou Bath’d in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie A verier ghost than I. What I will say, I will not tell thee now Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent I’had rather thou shouldst painfully repent Than by my threat’nings rest still innocent.
***
«The Ghost» by Richard Jones
I live in a house with no windows a black curtain hangs on my door. The voices of conscience torment me I live in a room with no floor.
There’s dirt in the corner I can’t see there’s water that runs down the wall. There’re mice in the attic above me and rats playing games in the hall.
I live in a house with no windows and sleep in a room with no heat. The darkness of life that surrounds me Keeps out the sounds of the street.
I wake when the shadows have fallen and walk when the memories cease. When purpose in life has no meaning and only the wicked find peace.
Each night you sense that I’m by you you feel my breath as you sleep. You hear the faint creak of the floorboards as out from the shadows I creep.
I live in a house with no windows I live in a house that’s now yours It’s my voice you think that you’re hearing for I died in this room with no doors.
***
«The Hag» by Robert Herrick
The Hag is astride This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin Now out, and then in Though ne’r so foule be the weather.
A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now Through Brakes and through Bryars O’re Ditches, and Mires She followes the Spirit that guides now.
No Beast, for his food Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischeifs, by these On Land and on Seas At noone of Night are working.
The storme will arise And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come Cal’d out by the clap of the Thunder.
***
«The House of Ghosts» by Margaret Widdemer
The House of Ghosts was bright within, Aglow and warm and gay, A place my own once loved me in, That is not there by day:
My hound lay drowsing on the floor: From sunken graves returned My folk that I was lonely for Sat where the hearth-fire burned.
There was no lightest echo lost When I undid the door, There was no shadow where I crossed The well-remembered floor.
I bent to whisper to my hound (So long he had been dead!) He slept no lighter nor more sound, He did not lift his head.
I brushed my father as I came; He did not move or see— I cried upon my mother’s name; She did not look at me.
Their faces in the firelight bent, They smiled in speaking slow Of some old gracious merriment Forgotten years ago.
I was so changed since they had died! How could they know or guess A voice that plead for love, and cried Of grief and loneliness?
Out from the House of Ghosts I fled Lest I should turn and see The child I had been lift her head And stare aghast at me!
***
«The New House» by Edward Thomas
Now first, as I shut the door I was alone In the new house; and the wind Began to moan.
Old at once was the house And I was old; My ears were teased with the dread Of what was foretold,
Nights of storm, days of mist, without end; Sad days when the sun Shone in vain: old griefs and griefs Not yest begun.
All was foretold me; naught Could I foresee; But I learnt how the wind would sound After these things should be.
***
«The Night Of Halloween» by Sandi VanderSluis
The Harvest moon fills the sky A wicked witch goes flying by
Ghosts and goblins..skeleton’s too. Moaning and groaning, waiting for you
Black cats prowl the graveyard plots Witches cook in cauldron pots
Cemetery ghouls roam the ground Not one unopened grave is found
Tombstones are an eerie sight Shadows dance in full moon light
The haunted house on the hill Walk in there and you get a chill
Jack-o-lanterns eyes so bright Trick or Treaters scream in fright
It’s a time like you’ve never seen Tonight’s the night of Halloween
***
«The Poor Ghost» by Christina Georgina Rossetti
“Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me With your golden hair all fallen below your knee And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?”
“From the other world I come back to you My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew. You know the old, whilst I know the new: But to-morrow you shall know this too.”
“Oh not to-morrow into the dark, I pray; Oh not to-morrow, too soon to go away: Here I feel warm and well-content and gay: Give me another year, another day.”
“Am I so changed in a day and a night That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright Is fain to turn away to left or right And cover up his eyes from the sight?”
“Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend I loved you for life, but life has an end; Through sickness I was ready to tend: But death mars all, which we cannot mend.”
“Indeed I loved you; I love you yet If you will stay where your bed is set Where I have planted a violet Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet.”
“Life is gone, then love too is gone It was a reed that I leant upon: Never doubt I will leave you alone And not wake you rattling bone with bone. “
“I go home alone to my bed Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head Roofed in with a load of lead Warm enough for the forgotten dead.”
“But why did your tears soak through the clay And why did your sobs wake me where I lay? I was away, far enough away: Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day.”
***
«The Unreturned» by Wilfred Owen
Suddenly night crushed out the day and hurled Her remnants over cloud-peaks, thunder-walled. Then fell a stillness such as harks appalled When far-gone dead return upon the world.
There watched I for the Dead; but no ghost woke. Each one whom Life exiled I named and called. But they were all too far, or dumbed, or thralled And never one fared back to me or spoke.
Then peered the indefinite unshapen dawn With vacant gloaming, sad as half-lit minds The weak-limned hour when sick men’s sighs are drained. And while I wondered on their being withdrawn Gagged by the smothering Wing which none unbinds I dreaded even a heaven with doors so chained.
***
«The Vampire’s Kiss» by Jim Ellis
Beware the kiss of the living dead. It will leave you wanting. Hunger delays once he’s fed But soon restarts the hunting.
Daylight breaks and brings the night As deadly sleep takes over, And when the moon renews its light The corpsed shell grows colder.
A woman walking down the street, An invitation to dinner. She never hears the silent feet That carry the deadly sinner.
And as the fangs sink down deep, The hunter takes his prey. He prays the Lord her soul to keep Then slowly backs away.
Beware the kiss of the living dead. It will leave you wanting. Hunger delays once she’s fed But soon restarts the hunting.
***
«The Vampiress» by Stephannie Mossiah
Seduction, leaks off her flesh, attracting men, like bees to honey. With her long black hair shinning with smoothness, and a sexy snake-like body.
Her eyes, they pierce through you, with that unearthly beauty. Blood red they glow, magnificent hue, as they stare with a look; predatory.
Slim corpse-like fingers, caress the face of her testosterone filled meal. The smell of blood on her body lingers, making any man, a slave to her deadly appeal.
She smiles sinisterly, her face slightly distorted. Every move she makes is bewitchingly sexy, a glamor dance, readily accepted.
Fingers nails, as fast a lightening, cut through her prey’s throat like hot knife to butter. With outrageous moaning and groaning, she drinks the dark gore as it sputters.
She swallows the warm thick liquid to quench her insatiable thirst. Gaining strength from the fluid, and finally pops the head of first.
Her elongated canines, stained with the breath of life. She alone dines, on this unlucky soul, late tonight.
With the sun, her immortal enemy, In her world, behold the Dark Impress. Kneel before this heartless Queen, surrender your blood, to the Vampiress.
***
«The Witch Has Told You a Story» by Ava Leavell Haymon
You are food.
You are here for me
to eat. Fatten up,
and I will like you better.
Your brother will be first,
you must wait your turn.
Feed him yourself, you will
learn to do it. You will take him
eggs with yellow sauce, muffins
torn apart and leaking butter, fried meats
late in the morning, and always sweets
in a sticky parade from the kitchen.
His vigilance, an ice pick of hunger
pricking his insides, will melt
in the unctuous cream fillings.
He will forget. He will thank you
for it. His little finger stuck every day
through cracks in the bars
will grow sleek and round,
his hollow face swell
like the moon. He will stop dreaming
about fear in the woods without food.
He will lean toward the maw
of the oven as it opens
every afternoon, sighing
better and better smells.
***
«The Witch’s Song, from Macbeth» by William Shakespeare
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good.
***
«The Witch» by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
I have walked a great while over the snow And I am not tall nor strong. My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set And the way was hard and long. I have wandered over the fruitful earth But I never came here before. Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
The cutting wind is a cruel foe. I dare not stand in the blast. My hands are stone, and my voice a groan And the worst of death is past. I am but a little maiden still My little white feet are sore. Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
Her voice was the voice that women have Who plead for their heart’s desire. She came – she came – and the quivering flame Sunk and died in the fire. It never was lit again on my hearth Since I hurried across the floor To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.
***
«Theme in Yellow» by Carl Sandburg
I spot the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins. On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon; I am a jack-o’-lantern With terrible teeth And the children know I am fooling.
***
«This Place Is Haunted» by Richard Jones
In screaming woods and empty rooms or gloomy vaults and sunken tombs; Where monks and nuns in dust decay and shadows dance at close of day.
Where the bat dips on the wing and spectral choirs on breezes sing; Where swords of ancient battles clash and shimmering shades for freedom dash.
Where raging storms at midnight howl and distant rolls of thunder growl. Where the hounds of hell take flight and ghost clouds race across the night.
Where silver webs of spiders weave and star-crossed lovers take their leave. Where curses lay the spirits low and mortal footsteps fear to go.
Where death holds life in grim embrace its lines etched on the sinner’s face. Where e’er the march of time is flaunted voices cry – “this place is haunted.”
***
«Trick Or Treat» by Jim Ellis
Candy, candy in the bag. It’s that time of year. Funny clown, witchy hag. Another house is near.
Popcorn balls and tootsie rolls. A handful is the best Taken from the biggest bowls At homes that pass the test.
Ding dong, ring the bell. Trick-or-treat is said, And if it does not go so well, Then mark the first word said.
Trees draped in toilet paper, Fecal bags on fire. Dressed like an undertaker, The trick was their desire.
Midnight comes, all bags are full. Time to count the bounty. The night is done; we’ve played our role All throughout the county.
Enjoy this yearly fun-filled night, Feast upon its riches From the first and final bite Of Hugs and Hershey Kisses.
***
«Witches’ Moon» by Rod I. Eaton
On ‘Tober nights ere Witches’ Moon, spirits sway and creatures croon. As darkness falls and shadows grow, haints and haunters fain to show.
Dry bones rise up to join the fun, clink and clacking as they run. A straggly scarecrow ‘stride a broom. rides beside her ghastly groom.
And long before faint daylight comes banshees beat upon their drums. Well shivers creep along your spine, wolves and wildies woof the time.
Then ghosties in the woods do soar, shrieking loudly with a roar. A caterwauling in the gloom, wailing at the Witches’ Moon.
With all the ghoulish guests now here, time to dine, since dawn is near. Please pass the wildroot, pass the cake. Plates begin to levitate.
Now pale light creeps across the sky. Morning’s nigh, ’tis time to fly. So with a whimper, not a bang, vampyre bares his single fang.
Pale zombies pass the graveyard gate with their clumsy, stumbly gait. And with a quiver and a moan howling dogs slink home alone.
Your heart slows down within your chest. Beastie souls lie down to rest. As spirits sway and creatures croon, bid goodnight, wan Witches’ Moon.
May the grace of Christ bring you hope and joy, and may the peace of Christ be yours. May Jesus, the Lord, the miracle of God, fill your heart with Christmas love.
May you hear the songs of the angels this morn’. May you feel the joy that Jesus Christ is born. May the beauty of Christmas surround you today. May you find joy this Christmas Day.
May you thank the Lord for the hope that He brings. May you know the love of Jesus Christ, the King. May you always believe that Christ came to save. May you find hope this Christmas Day.
May the peace of Christmas bring joy with no end. May you feel the love of family and friends. May the wonder of Christmas surround you today. May you feel peace this Christmas Day.
May you share this day with our Jesus in prayer. May you share this day and show all you care. May you gather together with loved ones this day. May you find Christ this Christmas Day.
By Marcia A. Newton
A Christmas Miracle
It was six months ago, and a day, when her husband passed away. The doctors said there’s no more to do, so she quit her job to help him through. The child was sleeping when his father died, to tell her son, oh how she tried. The little boy cried that night, full of fear, full of fright. And on that night she lost her faith, never to believe in the “Pearly Gate”. She made a vow to never pray, it meant nothing now, anyway. At the funeral, he could only stare, wishing that his Dad were there. Tears were filling people’s eyes, saddened by the young boy’s cries. As the months went by, things got rough, she went back to work, but it wasn’t enough. With no food, no money, and bills to pay, she just couldn’t bring herself to pray. Before she knew it, it was Christmas Time, and she wasn’t able to save a dime. She felt so bad that she had no tree, for all her son’s friends to see. On Christmas Eve, they slept together, she promised her son, she’d be there forever. He asked her if Santa was coming tonight, she whispered no, with tears in sight. Her son would sulk, it wasn’t fair, she hated to see him in despair. She wanted to give her son some joy, oh how she wished she had a toy.
THEN: The mother got to her knees to pray, asking the Lord to hear her say. She asked for help to return a smile, to the face of her little child. On Christmas Morning, the boy was screaming, she saw his eyes were wide and gleaming. At the door were games, toys, even a bike, and a card that said “for the tyke”. With a great big smile and eyes so bright, he kissed his mom as he held her tight. She learned that a charity heard of her plight, and frantically scrambled through the night.
THEN AGAIN: The mother got to her knees to pray, thanking the Lord for hearing her say. She thanked the Lord for returning a smile, to the face of her little child.
By Paul R. MacPherson Somerville
A Christmas Poem
October’s old witches and goblins have gone The turkey and stuffing are done The wind brings a chill as December arrives The tree lights all twinkle as one
The icicles hang from the roof-tops in town As the rain and the snow starts to fall The storefronts light up with Christmas displays And Santa arrives at the mall
As presents are bought and presents are wrapped For those that we love and adore A small child’s eyes, so young but so wise Wants one more trip to the store
The video game, the doll or the train Santa must know I’ve been good I’ll stay up all night, and help him unload And get all the gifts that I should
Yes, Christmas is here, the laughter and joy And all that goes with it, you see But when it is gone, our friendship goes on You make every day Christmas for me…
By Mike Kimes
A Christmas Wish
I wish I could go back to the past, of Christmases long ago. I wish I could see my loved ones who have passed on long ago.
I’d love to be that child again who sat on Santa’s knee. Yes, all these memories that I have decorating the tree.
I wish I could wake Christmas morn to see Daddy baking ham. And to see my mamma making her yummy famous candy yams.
I wish I could go to Grandma’s house; her cookies were the best. The pies and cakes that she would bake, she kept them in a chest.
Her house would smell like ginger, with a hint of Balsam Pine. She’d decorate the house with lights, and it would surely shine.
All these Christmas memories, it seems like yesteryear. I’d love to go back to the past. This is my Christmas prayer.
By Debra L. Brown
A Christmas Wish
A time of year To think of love and sharing A time of peace For the whole world to cherish A time to be with all your friends and family And wish them all A Merry Christmas
Making angels in the snow or sliding down a hill roasting chestnuts on the fire takes away the chill Candy canes and mistle toe and grand-ma’s home made pie Ginger bread and hot co-co You know it’s Christmas time
Seasons come and seasons pass but we still remember the joy we shared on Christmas last looking forward to next December Flowers bloom, then pumpkins grow, then suddenly it starts to snow. Then our hearts are young again You know it’s Christmas time.
On Christmas eve Santa will soon be coming with lots of toys for girls and boys to play with. To see their eyes sparkle like stars above is all we need for a Merry Christmas…. So live your life with kindness and love in your heart and you’ll always have a merry Christmas.
By Philippe Brisebois
A King
Christmas, a time of wonder and joy, A time to celebrate the birth of a baby boy.
A child innocent and true, A child sent as a gift to save me and you.
This wondrous story has reached all corners of this globe. A king is born but one who doesn’t wear a royal robe.
He will grow to teach and to love. He will spread the word of his father above.
His gentle ways and his touch will turn water to wine. This newborn child is wondrous and divine.
His word will be placed in a book for all to read. His words will help heal all those who are in need.
This is the gift, no price to ever be given, And even after death he will be risen.
His cries can be heard by all living things. This beautiful baby will grow to be king.
By Sandra Hearth
A Merry Christmas Wish for You
While you enjoy the gifts, food, sparkle of ornaments and lights, feasting on favorite foods, I wish this Christmas would envelop you in the special warmth and rich contentment the season brings.
I wish friends, family, all those who love you let you know how much they care, so that you feel happily wrapped in their affection.
I wish this Christmas would be one you never forget, a shining beacon in your memory to light all of your days.
By Joanna Fuchs
A Search This Christmas
Christmas looms near. People pass by, singing and smiling, and giving good cheer. I look at their faces, and strain to find a clue or a hint of some pain close to mine. I see bright, shiny eyes that seemingly smile, and a nod of greetings while they’re all passing by. I continue to watch, amazed at their will to go on with lives while mine’s lying still. Shops all amassed with holiday mirth, celebrating our one true Christ Savior’s birth, but there are those of us looking, no matter how mild, for another soul getting through Christmas without their sweet child.
By Leslie C. Boren
A Sunny Christmas
Every year at Christmas time There’s not a sign of snow. Instead we spend our yuletide days In the sun’s warm cheery glow.
We have the best of Christmas things, The lights, the gifts, the bells, (And “snowbirds” who arrive en masse To fill our beach hotels.)
The glorious weather fits right in With our happy Christmas mood, And we can also walk and run Without having to be snowshoed.
So don’t feel bad for your (location) friends Who have no snow or ice. We think our sunny Christmas here Is a holiday paradise!
By Joanna Fuchs
Angel With A Gold Bow
The boys sit down in the park beneath the tree, Praying that their parents could look down and see. The beautiful angel on top with the pretty gold bow, And all of the presents that lay wrapped below. Christmas at their house had been full of smiles, Now a smile can’t be seen for miles. When their dad went away everything went wrong, It’s been a few months but it has seemed so long. A woman walked by and saw the boys, And handed them two carefully wrapped toys. She found the local orphanage from which they ran, And nearly cried when she spoke to the man. On Christmas Eve she adopted the boys, And took them home to see all the toys. They had bought an angel for the top of the tree, It was tall enough for heaven to see. Soon their parents would surely see The angel with the gold bow on top of their tree.
By Virginia A. Parks
At Christmas
A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year; He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season is here; Then he’s thinking more of others than he’s thought the months before, And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for. He is less a selfish creature than at any other time; When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime.
When it’s Christmas man is bigger and is better in his part; He is keener for the service that is prompted by the heart. All the petty thoughts and narrow seem to vanish for awhile And the true reward he’s seeking is the glory of a smile. Then for others he is toiling and somehow it seems to me That at Christmas he is almost what God wanted him to be.
If I had to paint a picture of a man I think I’d wait Till he’d fought his selfish battles and had put aside his hate. I’d not catch him at his labors when his thoughts are all of pelf, On the long days and the dreary when he’s striving for himself. I’d not take him when he’s sneering, when he’s scornful or depressed, But I’d look for him at Christmas when he’s shining at his best.
Man is ever in a struggle and he’s oft misunderstood; There are days the worst that’s in him is the master of the good, But at Christmas kindness rules him and he puts himself aside And his petty hates are vanquished and his heart is opened wide. Oh, I don’t know how to say it, but somehow it seems to me That at Christmas man is almost what God sent him here to be
By Edgar Guest
Be My Christmas Gift
If you sat beneath the Christmas tree, You’d sure add to the décor, But even if you were gift wrapped, dear, I couldn’t love you more.
You have to know that if I had you, I’d have the gift I’d most adore, Better than any expensive gift I could purchase in a store.
If you hug me tight, you wonderful thing, And be my Christmas gift, You’ll brighten my days forevermore And give my heart a lift.
By Karl Fuchs
Blessings And Good Tidings
Rows of houses blanketed with snow. Christmas lights lucent and aglow. A reindeer, a sleigh, like artwork on display. Stories unraveling, brass bells ringing, Smiles and laughter and joyful singing. Come, gather ’round the table tonight!
Cold is the winter. Warm is the fire. Blessings, good tidings to all of your days.
‘Tis the season to celebrate! Sheath your swords of anger and hate. A candle, a wish, the flickering of a flame, Love everlasting, love never ceasing, Peace and rest to ease our breathing. Come, gather ’round the table tonight!
Cold is the winter. Warm is the fire. Blessings, good tidings to all of your days.
By Charissa K. Cheuk
Candlelit Heart
Somewhere across the winter world tonight You will be hearing chimes that fill the air; Christmas extends its all-enfolding light Across the distance…something we can share.
You will be singing, just the same as I, These familiar songs we know so well, And you will see these same stars in your sky And wish upon that brightest one that fell.
I shall remember you and trim my tree, One shining star upon the topmost bough; I will hang wreaths of faith that all may see — Tonight I glimpse beyond the hear and now.
And all the time that we must be apart I keep a candle in my heart.
By Mary E. Linton
Cherish His Christmas
Christmas brings such a time of love Each tender heart holds so much of Unselfishness thrives, trust is strong The purpose to give, send love along.
A time of pleasantries, patience too Good wishes to all, all feelings true Thankfulness follows each fine deed Gifts from our God, never from greed.
Great the rewards that joy does bring Like the beauty in hearing angels sing We pray for our loved, each so dear Especially those who can’t be near.
Many leave home to bravely serve All freedoms we have, they preserve Do pray for our troops, as we should And their families too, if you would.
Give thanks to our Lord, His only Son And cherish His Christmas, everyone.
By Roger J. Robicheau
Christmas
December is here and there’s ice all around. All the leaves are gone and the soil has hardened on the ground.
Icy breath as you exhale, Waiting for wrapped parcels to be delivered in the mail.
Baubles and tinsel and candy canes, Snow now settling on the window panes.
Trees all a glitter as we pass by. Hot cups of chocolate and homemade mince pie.
Smells of puddings, cakes and all things good, Crackling fires as we burn more wood.
Carols heard from across the park. Lights all glistening as they brighten up the dark.
Families gather to spend this day as one, Hugging, talking, putting right all that’s wrong.
But much more than all of this above, This is a time for forgiveness and love.
It’s Christmas and a time of joy. It’s the birthday of a special baby boy.
It’s about a story that’s lasted throughout the ages of time, About a man who turned water into wine.
He helped and he protected all in need, And the poorly he healed and the hungry he did feed.
A gift above gifts, for all of mankind. So perfect, so gentle, so divine.
A time to celebrate on the 25th of December. A time to be grateful and a time to remember.
With thanks and gifts they did bring. It’s time once again to rejoice the birth of a king.
By Sandra Hearth
Christmas
It is seven a.m., And the snow is falling As I look outside At the carolers calling.
I wake up my parents And rush to the tree To find a room full of presents Just for me.
The hot chocolate is stirring, And the food is being made As we head to my grandma’s To visit and stay.
As I see my family gathered And laughing away, I think to myself, How I love Christmas Day.
By Kolton Myatt
Christmas As A Holiday
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.
By Nicholas Gordon
Christmas Bells
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head; “There is no peace on earth,” I said; For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Christmas Bells
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head; “There is no peace on earth,” I said; “For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Christmas Carol
The kings they came from out the south, All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysoprase, And gifts of precious wine.
The shepherds came from out the north, Their coats were brown and old; They brought Him little new-born lambs— They had not any gold.
The wise men came from out the east, And they were wrapped in white; The star that led them all the way Did glorify the night.
The angels came from heaven high, And they were clad with wings; And lo, they brought a joyful song The host of heaven sings.
The kings they knocked upon the door, The wise men entered in, The shepherds followed after them To hear the song begin.
The angels sang through all the night Until the rising sun, But little Jesus fell asleep Before the song was done.
By Sara Teasdale
Christmas Carol
Ring out, ye bells!
All Nature swells
With gladness at the wondrous story,—
The world was lorn,
But Christ is born
To change our sadness into glory.
Sing, earthlings, sing!
To-night a King
Hath come from heaven’s high throne to bless us.
The outstretched hand
O’er all the land
Is raised in pity to caress us.
Come at his call;
Be joyful all;
Away with mourning and with sadness!
The heavenly choir
With holy fire
Their voices raise in songs of gladness.
The darkness breaks
And Dawn awakes,
Her cheeks suffused with youthful blushes.
The rocks and stones
In holy tones
Are singing sweeter than the thrushes.
Then why should we
In silence be,
When Nature lends her voice to praises;
When heaven and earth
Proclaim the truth
Of Him for whom that lone star blazes?
No, be not still,
But with a will
Strike all your harps and set them ringing;
On hill and heath
Let every breath
Throw all its power into singing!
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
Christmas Day
Across a white December night, Each home is filled with candle light. The moon shines brightly in a golden sky. Stars are twinkling way up high.
The cool, still air, a glistening frost, Smoking chimneys on white rooftops. The Christmas tree, the mistletoe, Christmas carols, our loved ones at home.
Christmas is a time for merriment and cheer. It’s also a time to thank God we’re here. So when we wake on a bright Christmas morn, Remember the reason we celebrate. It’s the day our Saviour was born.
John P.
Christmas Eve
A frosty Christmas Eve
when the stars were shining
Fared I forth alone
where westward falls the hill,
And from many a village
in the water’d valley
Distant music reach’d me
peals of bells aringing:
The constellated sounds
ran sprinkling on earth’s floor
As the dark vault above
with stars was spangled o’er.
Then sped my thoughts to keep
that first Christmas of all
When the shepherds watching
by their folds ere the dawn
Heard music in the fields
and marveling could not tell
Whether it were angels
or the bright stars singing.
Now blessed be the tow’rs
that crown England so fair
That stand up strong in prayer
unto God for our souls
Blessed be their founders
(said I) an’ our country folk
Who are ringing for Christ
in the belfries to-night
With arms lifted to clutch
the rattling ropes that race
Into the dark above
and the mad romping din.
But to me heard afar
it was starry music
Angels’ song, comforting
as the comfort of Christ
When he spake tenderly
to his sorrowful flock:
The old words came to me
by the riches of time
Mellow’d and transfigured
as I stood on the hill
Heark’ning in the aspect
of th’ eternal silence.
By Robert Bridges
Christmas Eve
Straight thro’ a fold of purple mist
The sun goes down—a crimson wheel—
And like an opal burns the sea
That once was cold as steel.
With pomp of purple, gold and red,
Thou wilt come back at morrow’s dawn…
But thou can’st never bring, O Sun,
The Christmas that is gone!
By Ella Higginson
Christmas Feelings
That cheerful feeling In the air With a bit of love All around
The food is on the table And the presents under the tree Dinner is ready So come on, let’s eat
Everyone is at the table Eating their Christmas meals Because it’s the most Wonderful time of the year
Look out your window Thank God for letting it snow It’s the best time of the year To spend it with the family
The night has passed And the day has come There are presents to open And more fun to come
But it’s not about presents It’s not about food It’s about family time That’s Christmas time
By Maria Carrion
Christmas for My Sweets
There’s no better Christmas gift in my whole life Than having you as my wonderful wife. I’m blessed each day when I see your smile, And I hope it keeps shining for quite a long while.
So on this wonderful Christmas day, Hope for your happiness is what I pray. I love you a lot, my Sweets, my wife. I wish you’ll be happy for the rest of your life.
By Karl and Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Greeting
C- Christmas Day, the church bells ring H- Holy night, the angels sing R- Rejoice and praise I- In Christ our King S- Sacrificed for all our sins T- Through faith and love we worship Him. M- Merry Christmas, everyone A- Amen, God bless S- Share your love, have fun.
By John P.
Christmas In Heaven
Santa, do you know where heaven is? Maybe your reindeer know the way. For I have a special present I need delivered on Christmas day.
For Christmas is a time for sharing With those we hold so dear. Please take this gift, with all my love For an angel who’s no longer here.
It’s wrapped up in all our memories We once shared from the past. The ribbons and bows are all our dreams. Inside there’s a broken heart.
It’s such a special parcel. Please Santa, don’t delay. I would love it to be in heaven In time for Christmas day.
By John P. Read
Christmas In My Eyes
People saying, “Ho, Ho, Ho” Lovers kissing under the mistletoe Children playing in the snow
Families making homemade treats Teens with fuzzy socks on their feet Dogs and cats sitting by the fire heat
Shoppers looking for the best gift Employees working on their last shift Students getting home before the snow drifts
Choirs singing, “Noel, Noel, Noel!” Volunteers ringing little bells Candles with winter smells
Reindeer flying through the skies Everyone waking up to a surprise That’s what Christmas is in my eyes
By Ella J. Phillips
Christmas Is Here
Cold days and hard long nights. Trees shimmed with tiny lights, Their branches pointing ever high, Reaching for the midnight sky. Christmas is here!
Delicate snowflake dancing down, Piling high across the town. Children running ’round and ’round While parents watch in the background. Christmas is here!
Warming cold hands by the fire, Listening to singing by the choir. Stockings hanging in a row, Wishing not to go so low. Christmas is here!
As children climb into bed, Santa arrives with his sled. Mince pies stuffed in his mouth, As he shouts: “HO, HO, HO, Christmas is here!”
By Abundance Nwosu
Christmas Joys
Evergreen boughs that fill our homes With fragrant Christmas scents, Hearts filled with the loving glow That Christmas represents;
Christmas cookies, turkeys stuffed, Festive holly berry, Little faces bright with joy, Loved ones being merry;
Parties, songs, beribboned gifts, Silver bells that tinkle, Christmas trees and ornaments, Colorful lights that twinkle;
Relatives waiting with open arms To smile and hug and kiss us; These are some of the special joys That come along with Christmas.
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Long Ago
Frosty days and ice-still nights, Fir trees trimmed with tiny lights, Sound of sleigh bells in the snow, That was Christmas long ago.
Tykes on sleds and shouts of glee, Icy-window filigree, Sugarplums and candle glow, Part of Christmas long ago.
Footsteps stealthy on the stair, Sweet-voiced carols in the air, Stocking hanging in a row, Tell of Christmas long ago.
Starry nights so still and blue, Good friends calling out to you, Life, so fact, will always slow… For dreams of Christmas long ago.
By Jo Geis
Christmas Love
At Christmastime I think of all the gifts That bring me great delight and sweet surprise, But nothing in this world can bring such joy As you do, when you look into my eyes.
And when I contemplate what Christmas means, The caring and the giving–I confess, You’ve given me the things I want the most: Your love, your touch, your kiss, your warm caress.
The Christmas tree reminds me, with its lights That just the thought of you sets me aglow; You light me up from deep within my heart, Because I cherish you, and love you so.
With you it’s Christmas all the time, sweetheart. I treasure every hour and every minute. Your love is all I’ll ever want because, My life is so fulfilling with you in it.
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Magic
Are we too grownup to feel a thrill As we light the Christmas tree? Are we immune to cookies, Christmas cards and Christmas glee?
Are we too adult to “Ooh” and “Aah” At the Christmas candle’s glow? Are we blasé about our gifts; Do we shun the mistletoe?
Are we too mature for carols, For merry or for jolly? Do the decorations leave us cold, The ornaments and holly?
Fat chance! We’ll never grow too old To love the Christmas magic. A year without a Christmas Would be boring, even tragic.
So bring it on! The candy canes, The feasting and good cheer; O Christmas, lovely Christmas, You’re the highlight of the year!
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Memories
It’s such a warming Feeling Being surrounded by Christmas Expectation fills the Air. The sparkle the Glitter Presents under the Tree With loved ones our dreams we Share.
The sound of Christmas Carols Choirs singing silent Night. A time to Reflect And thank God Above As we herald the most holy Night.
A time to remember loved Ones Who we have lost along the Way. Grief is a heavy Burden Much more Poignant Come Christmas Day.
As a child I believed in Santa And that there was a God Above. And as a Kid They never once let me Down Ahh! If only they could bring back the ones I love.
All those Christmases spent Together Now a family torn Apart. A home now bathed in Silence With only memories to warm the Heart.
By John P.
Christmas Now And Then
Well, it is December, and Christmas is almost here Another happy Christmas for family and good cheer There will be tables loaded with turkeys, hams and sweets We know there will be more than we could ever eat
There will be a big tree shining so bright With beautiful decorations and pretty shiny lights Under that tree there will be presents galore So many you would wonder how there could be anything left in the store
Christmas now is really so much fun But gosh there is just too much for everyone My thoughts go back to a cold Christmas long ago To a family not blessed with riches and gold
Our little tree was kind of skimpy, with some ribbons and a few shiny balls But to us it stood magnificent, the greatest of them all Under that tree was a present for Raye, a present for Sister and a present for me And we could hardly wait as we would open them with glee
There was not a lot of fancy food on that table, times were kind of tough But we were all happy, and for us it was enough We were so thankful as we thanked the Lord above We knew what we had was paid for with Daddy’s hard work and Mama’s love
I’m thankful that we now have so much and our blessings are many And it is good to live in this great land of plenty But I would gladly give every material thing that I own To have one more Christmas with Mama and Daddy and my two sisters at home
By Wayne Baggerly
Christmas Past, Present And Future
Christmas Past, Present & Future….
Present
Each morning as I lie awake, I pray my soul the Lord to take. For memories are far too deep to pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Good memories when you were here to fill us all with Christmas cheer, but God above was all alone and took you for his very own.
And though we know that you are near, each Christmas we are filled with fear. How will we cope without you there? We’re left staring at an empty chair.
Past
But cope we do – we all survive We remember when you were alive, knelt down by the glistening tree, shaking presents trying to see.
On Christmas morn you’d wake to find those presents Santa left behind. These memories all bring a tear for you held Christmas time so dear.
Future
And now five Christmases unwind. Our memories are all enshrined, for in our hearts you’ll always be until God comes to set us free.
Then we can be together again. Forget heartache – forget the pain, but now until our time is due, Merry Christmas, we love you!
By Eric R. Harvey
Christmas Sensations
Christmas lights twinkle and shine as bright as the stars in the sky on a cold, clear night. The fresh blanket of fallen snow, it looks so pretty on the tree boughs. People bundled up so warm, rushing to and fro, don’t forget the mistletoe!
Child laughter, building snowmen, sled riding or ice skating, they are all patiently waiting. Quiet whispers and footsteps creeping, very soon you’ll hear paper crinkling. Keeping beat with the Christmas season are bells ringing, the rhythm and rhyme come from the carolers singing.
The turkey is stuffed and ready for roasting, the bread has risen and ready for toasting. The soft glow of a cinnamon scented candle is fine, the Christmas tree that smells like pine. Pumpkin pie, apple pie and all the cookies you can eat, a cup of cocoa and a candy cane sure are sweet.
Most important is family, friends and lots of caring, cuddles, kisses and hugs for sharing. Grab your slippers and a cozy robe and come sit by the fire, hurry along before Grammy retires. Let me read you a story and you stay awhile, your children and their children all smile!
By Arlene Blessing
Christmas Time
At Christmas, lights burn brighter, and friendly hugs get even tighter. The spirit of Christmas fills the air, and people seem to really care.
Merry hearts are filled with cheer. Families and friends all draw near. The streets around are all filled despite the cold winter chill.
Everywhere there’s smiling faces, giving and receiving warm embraces. And for a time, sadness disappear. Peace, joy and hope replaces fear.
All because God’s love came down and filled the earth all around. So we celebrate at Christmas time our Savior and Lord, holy, divine!
We honor Jesus throughout the year so the Christmas spirit will linger near. For the story of His birth is ours to tell – that Jesus became our Emmanuel
By Lenora McWhorter
Christmas Time
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.
By Ronald Doe
Christmas Time Together
For most, this time of year Is ornaments, lights and gifts. People are out to shop, Though snow may mass in drifts.
For me this time is different From what others feel and see; For me it’s just more happiness Full of you and me.
You fill my life with joy Each moment that we share. I’m thankful for time with you; Nothing can compare.
I want to make life good for you In every way I can. You’ve been my own true love Since our relationship began.
So I’m writing you this poem To help you to feel my love; We can be this way forever, With help from up above.
By Karl and Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Tree Poem
Christmas tree, sparkling bright, Filled with baubles, warmth and light, Precious symbol of our affection For Christmas time and its perfection, Show each night your radiant glory For “oohs” and “aahs” obligatory.
Christmas tree, don’t let us down; Show something special at your crown, An angel, star, or splendid piece To make our holiday joy increase, An icon, pure, ideal, complete, For Christmas memories fond and sweet.
Glitter and glisten, gleam and glow, Oh Christmas tree, we love you so!
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Wishes For You
May peace dwell with you, may prosperity huddle near. May family gather together without heartache or tear.
There is a star shining in the night sky … just there. It is for you to wish upon to keep you safe from care.
May everything you need be yours to have and proclaim as you’re due; just close your eyes and ask it in His precious name.
Merry Christmas to you, friend. Let your season be a blessed one filled with love and cheer and more. Smile, laugh, and enjoy the fun.
By Sherry Asbury
Christmastide
Love came down at Christmas, Love all lovely, Love Divine; Love was born at Christmas, Star and Angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead, Love Incarnate, Love Divine; Worship we our Jesus: But wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token, Love be yours and love be mine, Love to God and all men, Love for plea and gift and sign.
By Christina Rossetti
Christ’s Advent
Silent soft snow descends. Lights reflect into the night. The world seems to wait, Hushed before Christmas’s delight.
The days creep gradually shorter. Children feel the magic grow. Oh when will Christ’s birth come? “Soon,” whispers the silent snow.
Cookies baked, trees trimmed. The world builds anticipation, Yet the manger is missing the Christ, The Source of this festive sensation.
Coloured lights keep vigil. Garlands and trees emerge. Cards get mailed to kin. “Come Christmas,” children urge.
Then one night, the 25th, A bell, a soft bell rang. Then angels came and proclaimed Christ is born, they sang!
The people sitting in darkness Heard the joyful song. They rang their bells and rejoiced. Come, let’s sing along!
Now, in this Christmas season May Christ’s joy rest every fear, And may your heart grow younger In the coming New Year!
By Michaela Hart
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
For Christmas this year I would most love to see Two plane tickets to Arizona placed under my tree.
You see, my Aunt had a baby and my Nannie’s real ill I haven’t the money to send both my sister and I, unless you will.
You can send us the cash, you can take us yourself We can even fly there with your most responsible elf.
Oh please Santa, get us both there somehow. We could wait until later, but it’s best to go now.
Nannies going through surgery, we’re not sure if she’ll live, And well, this is the season for everyone to give,
I only want to see her, yes, this is all I ask. Is my Christmas wish such a difficult task?
When you get this and read it, think it over a time or two. I know this is a hard decision, but I’m positive you’ve had a few.
Even if one ticket is all you can give, Don’t worry. I’ll send my sister and pray that dear Nannie will live.
I’m sorry I’ve been bad, next year I’ll try to be better. You have a big job, so I oughta end this letter. Have a Merry Christmas Santa, tell the elves and Mrs. Claus I said hi. Thank you for your time Sir, now I must say good bye.
P.S. The milk is in a glass and the cookies on a tray. You know where I live, so nothing more shall I say.
By Shandelle Sioch
December 23rd
Today, December 23rd, another Christmas nears. I try to keep tradition up while holding back my tears.
I know I have been blessed for all the many years of love and joy and family and times we had to share.
The presents wrapped, the tree is lit, the wreath upon the door, but pondering all the Christmases past and tears begin to fall.
This Christmas will be different, for some very special loved ones have received God’s final call.
Then I dry my tears and say a special prayer. Dear God, my gift to you is that soul I loved so dear.
I thank you for their life and love I was so blessed to share.
Now all that I can ask of you is to keep them in your care! I also want to offer you my each and every tear.
Now I promise to make Christmas joy for those I still have here and put a smile upon their face while we have time to share.
Amen
By Patricia L. Cisco
Dreading Christmastime
I’m dreading Christmastime this year Because I have so much to fear:
An empty space beside my chair, No gentle caress upon my hair,
No Christmas card from him to read, No loving kiss upon my cheek.
The mistletoe will be unused, And songs will make my heart feel bruised.
My heart is heavy, my pain is great. There’s nothing left to celebrate.
For my love has gone beyond the veil, And all I want to do is wail:
“Christmastime, leave me alone!” Happiness has left my home.
By Victoria L. Thomas
First Christmas Without You
The nights are long and cold; the sun is hardly around. Christmas time is approaching, and snow will soon cover the ground. Trees and lights are twinkling; stockings are being hung. The Christmas spirit is all around as carols are being sung. This year Christmas is not the same, just a yearly memory. This house is not a home anymore because you are not here with me. There will be sadness; there will be tears when we wake up on Christmas day, For this will be the first without you; oh, how I wish heaven was just a mile away. As we sit around the Christmas tree, emotions will be sad. Gifts for them, gifts for me, but none of them will say DAD. All I want for Christmas is to see your smiling face. I know it cannot happen because you are in a better place. Please…DAD ring a bell for me on Christmas day So I will know you got your wings and that you are okay. I am not looking forward to Christmas, but I know it’s something I have to live through. I hope there is Christmas in heaven, because it is not the same here without you.
Jamie A. Cirello
For My Teacher At Christmas
Christmas vacation is great; My time is mine to spend; I can be with friends or watch TV; I wish it would never end.
I don’t miss school or homework; I really like to be free; But I’ll miss you when I’m gone from school; You’re just what a teacher should be.
So have a perfect Christmas; Be sure to have lots of fun; I look forward to seeing you again, When Christmas vacation is done.
By Joanna Fuchs
Forever And A Day
If I had one Christmas wish For family and friends this year, We would take the opportunity to strengthen values and beliefs We hold so dear.
We would make time to sit at the table, Break bread with those we love, Fold our hands and bow our head, Giving thanks to our Father above.
Read a book to the children, Try to make the moments last. Talk to them about family traditions, Connecting with members of family past.
We would indulge in enjoyable stories, Talk about our role models that paved the way, Take comfort in the traditions that bring us together, Creating a lasting bond, forever and a day.
By Annette R. Hershey
From Us To You
It’s Christmas time, And I wish you well. May the Lord bless you With the best of health.
I hope the stockings are hung And you’re filled with wonder. There are so many surprises For you to ponder.
May your children be merry When Santa brings toys. Some for the girls And some for the boys.
I pray you have food And plenty to eat: Turkey and gravy And lots of sweets.
I hope your family’s there, Friends and neighbors, too. So merry Christmas From all of us to all of you.
By Dusty Kallembach
Gift Of Magic And Love
‘Tis the season for warmth and cheer, To be with our family and those we hold dear. But what if we are miles away? What if we can’t be there on Christmas day?
We could send a beautiful Christmas card, A glittery ornament that shines like a star, A tin of cookies so warm and sweet, But there’s only one gift that makes it complete.
It’s sent through the snowflakes in the air, Through an angel’s peaceful and heavenly prayer, Through the verdant Christmas tree, Through the Holy Babe, sleeping peacefully.
This gift is magical in every way. It only comes on Christmas day. It’s what makes us truly rich; A heartfelt, loving Christmas wish.
It’s bright and big like the Bethlehem star. It stretches wide and travels far. It’s the first snow of Christmas day. It’s the sun’s warm and hopeful ray.
This precious gift I gladly send. It’s a Christmas wish to my family and friends: May love, peace, and joy in your lives stay, And may you have a Merry Christmas – always!
By Ciana R. Geckle
Greatest Gifts
It’s not all about presents Laying under the tree. Trinkets made of gold Mean nothing to me.
It’s not all about money. What joy can it bring? It’s being wanted and loved, Not material things.
Possessions can’t hug you Or give you a kiss. Christmas with loved ones Is what I miss.
Christmas presents are just temporary. Their joy is short lived. Only love and loved ones Are the greatest of gifts.
By John P.
Help Wanted
Santa needs new reindeer. The first bunch has grown old. Dasher has arthritis; Comet hates the cold. Prancer’s sick of staring at Dancer’s big behind. Cupid married Blitzen and Donder lost his mind. Dancer’s mad at Vixen for stepping on his toes. Vixen’s being thrown out— she laughed at Rudolph’s nose. If you are a reindeer we hope you will apply. There is just one tricky part: You must know how to fly.
By Timothy Tocher
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
…So he paused. And the Grinch put his hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then it started to grow. But the sound wasn’t sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn’t be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at Whoville! The Grinch popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise! Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small, Was singing! Without any presents at all! He HADN’T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same! And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow, Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?” “It came with out ribbons! It came without tags!” “It came without packages, boxes or bags!” And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! “Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store.” “Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!”…
By Dr. Suess
In the Bleak Midwinter
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.
By Christina Rossetti
It’s Nearly Christmas
I write this in September And I can already see my breath Because the temperature is falling To fifty degrees or less; There are frosted mornings And skies are turning gray; Next thing, there’ll be snowdrifts Fit for a sleigh.
In stores, they’re gearing for Halloween With pumpkins on display; After October 31, we’ll count the days To shop til Kris Kringle Day; Just when I thought the craze was over And the presents were put away, Alas! I hear Santa “ho-hoing”, It’s nearly Christmas Day.
Christmas is a magical time, Is there any doubt? But I’m going to need a psychotherapist To get my anxeties out! The sugarplums might be dancing, But they’re messing up my mind; The silver bells aren’t doing much To help me unwind.
September comes and October goes, November is just a glance; Once again, there’ll be invitations To another holiday dance; I’ll decorate the Christmas tree With icicles, stars, and lights, But I’ll need a ton of eggnog To get me through this night!
By Joel Bjorling
It’s Christmas Time
Put your problems on probation Run your troubles off the track, Throw your worries out the window Get the monkeys off your back. Silence all your inner critics With your conscience make amends, And allow yourself some happiness It’s Christmas time again! Call a truce with those who bother you Let all the fighting cease, Give your differences a breather And declare a time of peace, Don’t let angry feelings taint The precious time you have to spend, And allow yourself some happiness It’s Christmas time again! Like some cool refreshing water Or a gentle summer breeze, Like a fresh bouquet of flowers Or the smell of autumn leaves, It’s a banquet for the spirit Filled with family, food and friends, So allow yourself some happiness It’s Christmas time again!
By Bob Lazzar-Atwood
It’s Still About Jesus
For every Christmas carol we sing, For every present under the tree, For every child that smiles with glee, It’s still about Jesus.
For all the joy the season brings, For every shiny, glowing thing, For every Christmas light that shines without, It’s still about Jesus.
As the joy of giving is in the air, Also, the bounty of many blessings with much to spare, With food beyond measure in which we shall feast, The rejoicing of precious life makes it all complete.
Giving thanks through prayer is a timely pleasure, For the birth of our Savior is the greatest treasure.
For with hope and grace in which we are so faithfully bound, For it is the love of our Lord God in which we were found.
Brings to my remembrance of how Christmas began, A King was born to save the souls of all men.
By Paul Felix
Jesus Is The Reason
In Bethlehem, God gave to us The source of Christmas joy; A star shown on a miracle: The virgin birth of a boy.
He was born both God and man, A Savior for us all, The way to get to our heavenly home, If we just heed His call.
So as we shop and spend and wrap And enjoy the Christmas season, Let’s keep in mind the sacred truth: Jesus is the reason.
By Joanna Fuchs
Listening For Santa
A squeak on the stairs. Could Santa be here? Better pull my blankets Up to my ears.
He comes down the chimney, That’s how he gets in. Santa uses magic To make himself thin.
I better keep still, Can’t make a peep. He doesn’t leave toys, Unless you’re asleep.
My door just opened. Someone’s by my bed. It wasn’t Santa after all, ‘Cause Mom just kissed my head.
By Annabel Sheila
Little Tree
little tree little silent Christmas tree you are so little you are more like a flower who found you in the green forest and were you very sorry to come away? see i will comfort you because you smell so sweetly i will kiss your cool bark and hug you safe and tight just as your mother would, only don’t be afraid look the spangles that sleep all the year in a dark box dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine, the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads, put up your little arms and i’ll give them all to you to hold every finger shall have its ring and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy…
By E.E. Cummings
Love Came Down at Christmas
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign
By Christina Rossetti
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
We’re wishing you a Christmas Full of laughter, love and light, With delicious holiday foods To excite your appetite.
We’re hoping you receive Delightful gifts to make you smile, With family and friends To love you all the while.
We wish you a Merry Christmas; May your Christmas dreams come true, And when Christmas is over, Happy New Year, too!
By Joanna Fuchs
Merry Christmas Daddy
The Christmas lights twinkle and reflect in my tears, as I suddenly realize it’s been almost a year.
My daddy left us and his earthly home. He’s off in the heavens to eternally roam.
As luck would have it, he left his best in me; from his sarcastic wit to his “evil eye” gene.
My sons’ didn’t know much of my dad. Still they cherish what little time that they had.
But long before leaving his home here on earth, we all gained from his values of pride and self-worth.
So my happy memories Must dull the pain, and soothe my soul ’til I’m with daddy again.
By Frederick Herman Tegtmeier
Merry Christmas, Mom
For all of the presents You put under the tree, For all of the times You picked up after me…
For all of the times That you tucked me in tight And we stayed up to talk Long into the night
For all of the days I was feeling so down And the times that you turned To a smile my frown
For the cookies you baked And the stockings you stuffed, For the cuts that you healed And the pillows you fluffed…
For the time that you took Off the training wheels For the nights that you made me My favorite meals
For the years throughout Elementary school For knowing the right thing Isn’t always what’s cool
For putting up with Those preteen years For making it through All the laughs and the tears
For all of the days That you loved me so much Even during the times That I made it so tough…
For all of the memories We have already shared For the future for which We cannot be prepared
For being there for that one-year-old boy Who sat in the house and sucked on his thumb For working so hard at being his mom And making that boy into the man I’ve become Look back on all that we have been through And look at me now mom, how far I have come
For all of the times I’ll never forget Merry Christmas to you, Mom Here’s to the memories We haven’t had yet
Merry Christmas…Love, Nick
By Mary Butto
Message From Santa Claus
If it were in my powers, I would bring peace and love, To this world of ours, But I don’t have magic enough, I can cross the sky, and pass by the stars, But I can’t seem to stop, Any of hatred’s wars, I see children on the street, With no hope left, in the eyes. So many homeless people with no where to sleep. And my heart cries. I can’t give the things they need, Oh But God I would try. I’m only a fantasy, that once took wings to fly, Some are deceived, by the gifts that money can buy, But those who truly believe, see the gift with the heart, not with the eye, I sometime stop and go to my knees, and pause, and I too always pray, That we will find a end to wars, and live in peace one day. For all those who believe in me, I will continue my cause, Across the stars, over the wars, On Christmas Eve, For the hearts that still believe, In Santa Claus
By Judy Arline Puckett
Minstrels
The minstrels played their Christmas tune To-night beneath my cottage-eaves; While, smitten by a lofty moon, The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze Had sunk to rest with folded wings: Keen was the air, but could not freeze, Nor check, the music of the strings; So stout and hardy were the band That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
And who but listened?—till was paid Respect to every inmate’s claim, The greeting given, the music played In honour of each household name, Duly pronounced with lusty call, And “Merry Christmas” wished to all.
By William Wordsworth
Music on Christmas Morning
Music I love - but never strain Could kindle raptures so divine, So grief assuage, so conquer pain, And rouse this pensive heart of mine - As that we hear on Christmas morn, Upon the wintry breezes borne.
Though Darkness still her empire keep, And hours must pass, ere morning break; From troubled dreams, or slumbers deep, That music kindly bids us wake: It calls us, with an angel’s voice, To wake, and worship, and rejoice.
By Anne Brontë
My Christmas Wishes
I wish for my lost loved ones to spread wings So they’d fly back and share all Christmas things, Just as they did back in their days on earth And the holy birth was a source of great mirth.
Then they’d see snowflakes fall softly to the ground, Hear carol singers make beautiful sounds. Children excited for Santa to arrive, Christmas trees aglow and blazing firesides.
Church bells chiming to announce the new King, Born as a host of Angel voices sing. In humble conditions came Mary’s boy. Unto the world a sweet bundle of joy.
Thoughtful tokens handed out as a gift. Times may have been hard, but love made us rich. Games and charades when there was no TV. Fish paste sandwiches and jelly for tea.
But it’s unlikely my wishes come true. I’ll send love in a prayer, I usually do, And ask God to share my heart all around For peace on earth that knoweth no bounds.
By Beryl L Edmonds
My Dad Would Like To Be Santa
His belly’s getting bigger, And his hair is turning white. His eyes shine and sparkle Like the stars on Christmas night.
He couldn’t fit down chimneys When he can just fit through a door. One mince pie would never do He’d only ask for more.
He likes a nip of brandy; It sets his cheeks aglow. When he forgets the words to carols, He just shouts Ho, Ho, Ho.
He hasn’t got a reindeer That runs silently through space, But his car is Eco Friendly And could beat Rudolph in a race.
He can’t afford a new red suit With boots and matching belt, But his smile is warmer than the sun That can make the snow tops melt.
My dad would like to be Santa And fill the world with glee, So until they advertise the job, He’ll give all his love to me.
By Graham Craven
My Wish For This Christmas
Christmas is a happy time for friends and family, The children are excited as they unwrap presents around the tree.
Carols are sung and lights twinkle in the night. Jack Frost glistens on the windows, and the snow sparkles from the winter moonlight.
Christmas is such a joyous time to appreciate the ones we love. This Christmas I want to send wishes to those we lost up above.
To some, Christmas is not the same because a loved one passed away, And the grief is overwhelming each and every day.
When the holidays approach, we miss them even more, Traditions never feel the same, and memories are all we have left to adore.
We will always remember their name and never forget their faces, And as long as we keep them in our hearts, they can never be erased.
So this Christmas, my wish is for everyone who is feeling a little blue To find some peace, joy, and comfort with everything you do.
Christmas isn’t just a season; it’s a feeling, and the magic never ends. One of its greatest gifts is to cherish family and friends.
Merry Christmas to all our special angels up above. Merry Christmas to you all. I send you all my love.
By Jamie A. Cirello
Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas. The smell of pine Filled up the family room While watching the star blink At the tip top of the tree. My dad began to read Just after snuggling My mom and me All together on the couch. No one spoke; The only sound was the fire cracking. While listening, I smelled hot cocoa And our big Christmas tree. The Steelers blanket held me so tight. That is one of my favorite winter nights. As he finished, we all read And to all a good night.
By Allie Henderson
O Christmas Tree
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, You truly are a beauty. I used to love to put you up, Now it’s a dreaded duty.
Lugging you out from storage Gets more strenuous each year, And assembling all your branchy parts Does not fill me with cheer.
Then each and every little stem I tediously unflatten. Your artificial symmetry, It doesn’t…just…happen.
Next challenge is your tree lights, Which I always have to wrangle. No matter how I’ve coiled them, They unwind in a tangle.
A few choice words escape me As I clear the final knot, Then turn to find the other end Has formed another clot.
I string them from your branches, Draping with the greatest care, To find that I’ve run out of lights, Your bottom third still bare.
After some more botched attempts They’re artfully arranged. Your lights are nice and even Though I’m feeling quite deranged.
These days the decorating Doesn’t hold the same appeal. Now that the kids are all grown up, It’s left for me to deal.
I miss the days when they were young, We’d trim your boughs together. With Christmas carols playing, They are memories I treasure.
Your ornaments now look just right From every viewing angle, But at your back against the wall, The not so nice ones dangle.
At long last the job is done. It’s taken me all day; Too worn out to appreciate Your beautiful display.
On Christmas Day you play your part, All twinkling in resplendence, With family all gathered round And opening their presents.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, A sight extraordinary; Must steel myself to pack you up, It’s almost February!
By Cynthia C. Naspinski
Ode To A Holiday
Upon us now is that time of year again When we think a lot about our family and friends.
The days are short and the nights are cold, But our hearts are warm, which brightens our soul.
We endure the crowds to shop at the store. It’s worth it to us to find the perfect gift to give someone we want to buy for.
We put up lights and decorations all over the place. Sometimes we put up so much we run out of space.
The kids are excited to go for a night ride, To see all of the light displays people have created outside.
There are parties and dinners and food galore. Everyone eats, drinks, and stuffs themselves ’til they can’t eat anymore.
To some people, however, it’s just another day, Back in their box or alley or wherever they stay.
They see people shopping and eating and the lights all over town, But that’s not part of their world, as somewhere along the way the world has let them down.
They curl up to keep warm as the cold wind bites through their clothes. Long forgotten are the days of presents with bows.
And others lie in a bed attended by a nurse. Getting well and going home is what they are thinking of first.
All of the family get-togethers and eggnog will pass them by this year. The doctors and nurses will be their holiday cheer.
Those who protect us abroad and will not be home, They have to stay out there since the world’s political views aren’t monochrome.
So when we celebrate, we’ll hold up a glass and toast them each year, And hope the next holiday they will be near.
Hug your kids and keep them safe, As some have never experienced that being a waif.
Enjoy your holiday and celebrate this season, And when you toast, remember the others and maybe toast…for a greater reason.
By Mark Weismantel
Recipe for Christmas All Year Long
Take a heap of child-like wonder That opens up our eyes To the unexpected gifts in life— Each day a sweet surprise.
Mix in fond appreciation For the people whom we know; Like festive Christmas candles, Each one has a special glow.
Add some giggles and some laughter, A dash of Christmas food, (Amazing how a piece of pie Improves our attitude!)
Stir it all with human kindness; Wrap it up in love and peace, Decorate with optimism, and Our joy will never cease.
If we use this healthy recipe, We know we will remember To be in the Christmas spirit, Even when it’s not December.
By Joanna Fuchs
Ring Out, Wild Bells
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die…
Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Santa’s Gift
The laughter of eternity’s children Resides in the glint of his eyes, And his joyous laugh, which surrounds us all, Leaves an echo that never dies.
The good will he sows so generously Wraps us warmly in blankets of cheer, And the words that he speaks bring great hope and joy To small angels far and near.
To see a child’s hopeful excitement As he rests upon Santa’s knee Or the look of wonder on her face When she encounters the magical tree
Overwhelms my heart with tenderness And brings me lightness of mind. Santa is here to spread his gift Of peace to all mankind.
By Elaine P. Keefe
Sleigh Ride
Sleighing through the forest On a late December evening, To my sister tightly clinging In our flying wintry bed.
Father briskly leading The pampered horses heaving, Beneath the heavens reeling Round the pole star we are led.
Faster, ever faster O’er the crunching, steely ice, Tucked in warm and cozy Like some picture postcard mice.
The mighty forest bows before us Beneath its weight in snow, A shimmering palace of ice crystals Bathed in moonlight’s glow.
Wind ascending, Sleep descending, As homeward bound we go.
By Anne Pollock
So Lucky Are The Angels
Since you’re gone, Christmas time will never be the same. When asked what I wish for, I can only speak your name. The only gift I ever want at Christmas time for me Is my precious, loving son beside my Christmas tree, And as the world rejoices with songs of Christmas cheer, I’ll gently hold your memories close and wipe my Christmas tear. So lucky are the angels to have you up above, Right beside their Christmas tree; my son’s their gift to love!
By Patricia L. Cisco
Sweet Jesus Is Born
Today is born sweet Jesus, the Lord. Let us be glad, let us rejoice. Today is born sweet Jesus, the Lord. Let us be glad, let us rejoice.
Sweet Jesus is born, great joy does He bring. Let trumpets sound and church bells ring. The gifts He brings this holy night are peace, hope, and joy, and love’s pure light.
Quiet your heart and hear the Lord’s name. Sweet Jesus the Lord, this night He came. He came to be with us on Earth. The Heavens and Earth rejoice His birth.
Sweet Jesus is born. His birth was foretold. God’s only Son is to behold. On bended knee we come to adore Sweet baby Jesus, Christ the Lord.
Love is the heart of Jesus the Lord. His birth opened up God’s heavenly door. The joy and hope that sweet Jesus brings will live in the hearts of those who believe.
By Marcia A. Newton
The Best Gift
As Christmas time arrives, We think of you and smile; Your friendship is the gift We think most worthwhile.
The packages are pretty Underneath the tree, But what we value most Is your ability
To bring joy to our lives In everything you do, Enriching time together Just by being you.
By Joanna Fuchs
The Christmas Gift of Knowing You
The Christmas season fills our hearts with joy; Bright, happy days bring special kinds of pleasure. We’re wrapped in the excitement of it all, The sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes we treasure.
Yet when we have some quiet time to think About our finest blessings all year through, We focus on our family and our friends, And appreciate the gift of knowing you!
By Joanna Fuchs
The Christmas Holly
The holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay—
Come give the holly a song;
For it helps to drive stern winter away,
With his garment so sombre and long.
It peeps through the trees with its berries of red,
And its leaves of burnish’d green,
When the flowers and fruits have long been dead,
And not even the daisy is seen,
Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly,
That hangs over peasant and king:
While we laugh and carouse ’neath its glitt’ring boughs,
To the Christmas holly we’ll sing.
The gale may whistle, and frost may come,
To fetter the gurgling rill;
The woods may be bare, and the warblers dumb—
But the holly is beautiful still.
In the revel and light of princely halls,
The bright holly-branch is found;
And its shadow falls on the lowliest walls,
While the brimming horn goes round.
Then drink to the holly, &c.
The ivy lives long, but its home must be
Where graves and ruins are spread;
There’s beauty about the cypress tree,
But it flourishes near the dead:
The laurel the warrior’s brow may wreathe,
But it tells of tears and blood.
I sing the holly, and who can breathe
Aught of that that is not good?
Then sing to the holly, &c.
By Eliza Cook
The Christmas Story
An angel called to Mary one day. “You will have a baby,” she heard him say, Now not yet married was Mary – however The obedient girl just said, “Whatever.”
Now the trip to Bethlehem was long and tiring. The poor old donkey was sure perspiring. ‘Twas a nasty burden upon their backs That compulsion to pay a Roman tax!
A dirty stable with mouldy hay ‘Twas a dismal place to end the day. Of simple comforts there was a dearth And no wise midwife to help give birth.
God’s son in a manger, Can anything be stranger? A truly odd place for a baby to sleep. A feeding trough for a cow or a sheep!
An angel came to shepherds that night. It’s not surprising – they were filled with fright “No need,” said he, “for such behaviour, ‘Cause tonight for you is born a Saviour!”
When the shepherds got there, this they found A babe in a manger and straw on the ground. Maybe they wondered, it’s obvious since He didn’t look much like a royal prince!
Some wise men came from far away With gifts for a king they wished to convey. They called with Herod – an evil king But rival monarchs were not his thing!
When the wise men came, they entered the house, Found Jesus, Joseph and Mary, his spouse. Presented their gifts, most precious we’re told Frankincense, myrrh and a casket of gold.
His birth was humble, His death was tragic, But the rest of His story was more than magic. Though buried on Earth, He rose up to the sky As our Lord in Heaven, never more to die.
By William Holmes
The Christmas Wreath
Oh! Christmas wreath upon the wall, Within thine ivied space I see the years beyond recall, Amid thy leaves I trace The shadows of a happy past, When all the world was bright, And love its magic splendour cast O’er morn and noon and night.
Oh! Christmas wreath upon the wall, ’Neath memory’s tender spell A wondrous charm doth o’er thee fall, And round thy beauty dwell. Thine ivy hath the satiny sheen Of tresses I’ve caressed, Thy holly’s crimson gleam I’ve seen On lips I oft have pressed.
Oh! Christmas wreath upon the wall, A mist steals o’er my sight. Dear hallow’d wreath, these tears are all The pledge I now can plight To those loved ones whose spirit eyes Shine down the flight of time; Around God’s throne their voices rise To swell the Christmas Chime!
By Anna de Brémont
The Eve Before Christmas
‘Twas the eve before Christmas. I left it too late. The shelves are all bare. Oh, why did I wait?
I swore I’d shop early, I clearly remember, And be done with it all By the first of December.
But now here I am With picked-over stock. The boxes are crumpled On the Marvel knockoffs.
Sweaters too big, Slippers too small. The pushing the grabbing, Get me out of this mall.
I will stop at the drug store And purchase a card And fill it with money. Why make life hard?
It always fits And suits everyone’s taste. No need to wrap it. That’s just a waste.
But should you not like it, Dear, have no fear, If you’d like to return it, My pocket’s right here.
By Linda J. Doucett
The First Christmas
It never snows at Christmas in that dry and dusty land.
Instead of freezing blizzards, there are palms and drifting sands,
and years ago a stable and a most unusual star
and three wise men who followed it, by camel, not by car,
while, sleepy on the quiet hills, a shepherd gave a cry.
He’d seen a crowd of angels in the silent starlit sky.
In the stable, ox and ass stood very still and calm
and gazed upon the baby, safe and snug in Mary’s arms.
And Joseph, lost in shadows, face lit by an oil lamp’s glow
stood wondering, that first Christmas Day, two thousand years ago
by Marian Swinger
The First Christmas
This very first Christmas It’s just like before It’s the first in this new Century and there will be more The only difference we will see and at first does not seem true why the tree getting shorter and what happened to you?
Each year we get wiser, the older we get we still think of Santa, and we are not finished with him yet. we still get excited, Like we did Christmas’s before You see there is no difference, it’s just your height in the door. So we take a moment this time far and near to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new Year Merry Christmas Year 2000
By Keith Davies
The House of Christmas
…This world is wild as an old wives’ tale, And strange the plain things are, The earth is enough and the air is enough For our wonder and our war; But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings And our peace is put in impossible things Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings Round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening Home shall men come, To an older place than Eden And a taller town than Rome. To the end of the way of the wandering star, To the things that cannot be and that are, To the place where God was homeless And all men are at home.
By G.K. Chesterton
The House of Hospitalities
Here we broached the Christmas barrel, Pushed up the charred log-ends; Here we sang the Christmas carol, And called in friends.
Time has tired me since we met here When the folk now dead were young. Since the viands were outset here And quaint songs sung.
And the worm has bored the viol That used to lead the tune, Rust eaten out the dial That struck night’s noon.
Now no Christmas brings in neighbours, And the New Year comes unlit; Where we sang the mole now labours, And spiders knit.
Yet at midnight if here walking, When the moon sheets wall and tree, I see forms of old time talking, Who smile on me.
By Thomas Hardy
The Hush Of Christmas
Have you observed this Christmas thing? How shoppers shop and sleigh bells ring, And children wrapped in muffs and cuffs Are trying out their newfound stuff.
Have you observed how fast it comes, Overtakes, invades our homes? How life takes on that quickened pace That makes each day another race.
But have you noticed how the rush Is stayed with times of holy hush? And no one ever seems to know From where they come or where they go.
A pause upon a Christmas stage, A costumed, bearded ancient sage, Points to a distant tinseled sky, And all at once the Christ is nigh.
Or at a time when by the tree The children watch so eagerly, As shining bells are put in place And wonder fills each tiny face.
Or by the fire when children sleep And parents whisper so to keep, The stillness of the fading day As treasures in their hearts to stay.
Or when amidst the candlelight The choir begins, “Oh, Holy Night,” And lives so filled with busyness Are wafted to a quiet bliss.
So as the season comes your way For you and yours, we humbly pray That in this time of Christmas rush You will find that holy hush.
By Carl F. Verge
The Last Present Under The Tree
There is one last present under the Christmas tree, I wonder whose it is? Is it for the little girl with the rocking horse, Or is it for Grandma or Aunt Liz? It looks so lonely, Sitting there by itself; It’d certainly be an awesome addition On “somebody’s” shelf.
The ribbon is gold, The paper is paisley red; “Who does it belong to?” Keeps rattling in my head; I decided to snatch a peek, And see whose name is on the card; It’d only take a second, It won’t be very hard.
When no one was looking, I reached under the tree, Carefully handling the package, “Who knows, it may be for me!” But when I read the card, I thought it was extraordinarily odd, Because the message read, “Love and blessings,” God.
By Joel Bjorling
The Miracle Of Christmas
Mary was chosen; how could this be true? A young girl and virgin was who they all knew. Cousin Elizabeth, too, six months was she. Her son was John, a “forerunner” he would be, Lept in her womb when the news was told. The King Mary carried they would all soon behold. Not in a great palace but a stable he’d lay. Not on fine linens but a manger with hay. An angel told shepherds the glad news they’d sing, A star led the Wise Men, their gifts they would bring. When he heard of the birth, King Herod would seek, But God up above Jesus’ safety would keep So that you and I could know His great love, And one day be with Him in Heaven above. So remember that Christmas is not “going all out.” It’s a season of miracles…THAT’S what it’s about.
By Elaine G. Brock
The Most Wonderful Gift
The most wonderful gift ever given to me Isn’t one to be found by a Christmas tree. It’s you, my treasure, my wonderful wife, The most beautiful, glorious thing in my life.
You are caring and warm, in truth, a delight, A most wonderful prize whose love still shines bright. I shudder to think how bare life would be, If the gift of your love weren’t given to me.
You are Christmas delights all wrapped into one, And those joys still go on when Christmas is done!
By Karl and Joanna Fuchs
The Old Christmas Card
I found a little Christmas card. ‘Twas in a box of stuff. I opened it and read it. Its verse was written thus.
“Season’s greetings and salutations. Best wishes and all the best. Happy New Year and live long, And may you be God blessed.”
There was something written Below this little verse. It was written in your writing, Just like we would converse.
I felt the love in those words Written by your shaky hand. Tears filled my eyes, As you can understand.
I love that little Christmas card. My heart strings are all a strum. That little card means so much Because it’s signed, “Love, Mum.”
By Raelene J. Elliss
The Real Meaning of Christmas
Two thousand years ago the King of Kings was born. ‘The Lamb of God’ later made to feel the thorn, If his words are accepted and not scorned, They will make us all reborn.
Though God’s grace, Joseph and Mary presented A gift to the world that day, which we can all repay, by living the ten commandments each and every day.
Try to remember and keep in your heart and mind Jesus’s gospel while here on Earth, Redemption not a life lived in constant mirth. Peace on Earth, good will toward man Everyone should try it, whenever they can.
The Lord gave us the option and choice of ‘free will,’ Now it’s up to us to fit the bill.
So when you’re Christmas shopping for family and friends, and money is tight at both ends, Remember that the greatest gift of all, Is your love of Jesus in the manger stall.
By Joseph P. Martino
The True Meaning Of Christmas
In todays’ day and time, it’s easy to lose sight, of the true meaning of Christmas and one special night.
When we go shopping, We say “How much will it cost?” Then the true meaning of Christmas, Somehow becomes lost.
Amidst the tinsel, glitter And ribbons of gold, We forget about the child, born on a night so cold.
The children look for Santa In his big, red sleigh Never thinking of the child Whose bed was made of hay.
In reality, When we look into the night sky, We don’t see a sleigh But a star, burning bright and high.
A faithful reminder, Of that night so long ago, And of the child we call Jesus, Whose love, the world would know.
By Brian K. Walters
The Waits
At the break of Christmas Day,
Through the frosty starlight ringing,
Faint and sweet and far away,
Comes the sound of children, singing,
Chanting, singing,
“Cease to mourn,
For Christ is born,
Peace and joy to all men bringing!”
Careless that the chill winds blow,
Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
Noiseless footfalls in the snow,
Bring the happy voices nearer;
Hear them singing,
“Winter’s drear,
But Christ is here,
Mirth and gladness with Him bringing.”
“Merry Christmas!” hear them say,
As the East is growing lighter;
“May the joy of Christmas Day
Make your whole year gladder, brighter!”
Join their singing,
“To each home
Our Christ has come,
All Love’s treasures with Him bringing!”
By Margaret Deland
Three Empty Chairs
There are now three empty chairs at the Christmas table. It’s a time I find difficult, even unable
To find joy on this family day. We are so lost since you went away.
Our lives have less joy and our days are sad. I cry when I remember all that we had.
Christmas day was that special day of the year Where we gathered around with festive cheer.
A time of love, smiles and joy, A time to watch the children open their gifts, play with their toys.
The turkey cooking and puddings to be made, All the excitement and noise and a beautiful table we laid.
But once again we feel a loss of someone special we love, And once again we cry and turn our look to above.
Heaven holds all three of you now, And our loss and pain is too much, oh wow.
My mum, dad, and brother, now all gone. It hurts, this loss; it feels so wrong.
There are now only our memories that we can hold dear. And as we say Merry Christmas, we also shed a tear.
As we look upon the three empty chairs, I will raise my glass as we toast and share.
We miss you all so very much; now you’re in heaven above. To all of you, my family, with all our hearts, we send our love.
By Sandra Hearth
Tiny Wooden Figures
Over in the corner, ‘neath the Christmas tree’s green, Are the tiny wooden figures, our Nativity scene. Each tells a story, each plays its part. Each holds a special place here in my heart.
Down from the attic, unwrapped with great care, It just isn’t Christmas if they’re not there. They’re faded and dented, their paint chipped away, But the love they stand for is as fresh as today.
And as the years go by and our days grow few, Outside we grow older, inside we grow new, And the tiny wooden figures are a symbol of love, Of the grace and the peace of our God above.
By the side there stands Joseph, keeping watch in the night The smile on his face, a reflection of light In the hay kneels sweet Mary, so gentle and mild So willing to sacrifice, all for her child.
And as the years go by and our days grow few Outside we grow older, inside we grow new, And the tiny wooden figures are a symbol of love Of the grace and the peace of our God above.
In the hay, Baby Jesus, His arms opened wide. The same way He lived, the same way He died. Now He stands up in Heaven, and He holds the door wide, And He says, “Welcome children! Welcome inside!”
And as the years go by and our days grow few Outside we grow older, inside we grow new, And the tiny wooden figures are a symbol of love, Of the grace and the peace of our God above.
Over in the corner, ‘neath the Christmas tree’s green, Are the tiny wooden figures, our Nativity scene. Each tells a story…each plays its part. Each holds a special place….here in my heart
By Rick W. Cotton
‘Tis The Season For Lots Of Love
‘Tis the season for lots of love. Gather all friends and family And celebrate the joys from above.
Plan a feast and wrap gifts happily. Distribute it all around. Gather all friends and family.
Add the carols to make it sound As it adds love to spirit. Distribute it all around.
Enjoy the decorations as you share it. Bask in the smiles of the season As it adds love to spirit.
Friends and family are good reason To spread warmth and cheer. Bask in the smiles of the season.
Christmas! Celebrate with all who are dear! ‘Tis the season for lots of love To spread warmth and cheer And celebrate the joys from above.
By Astrid Hardjana-Large
Toy Escape
Late Christmas Eve, when all was still, And the room was dark as night, The Christmas tree lit magically; It was a fantastic sight!
Then from around the tree trunk came, A strange and funny sound, As gifts began to unwrap themselves, And toys jumped out all around.
The music box began to play, And in a crazy trance, The candy canes jumped off the tree To do a silly dance.
The big stuffed bear leaped to his feet, To see what he could see; He rode a shiny, bright red bike Around the Christmas tree.
The new toy kitchen started to cook, And before you could blink an eye, The oven door opened, and from inside Came a tiny pizza pie.
A squirt gun squirted everything; It knew what it was for; By the time that it was emptied out, A big puddle lay on the floor.
A beautiful doll with golden hair Was searching for a friend; A toy soldier marched up and took her hand; They were a perfect blend.
In the bedroom were a boy and girl, Asleep in Christmas dreams; The soldier saluted; the doll gave a kiss; At least that’s the way it seems.
Now everything began to tire; The toys went back in place; But when mother woke in the morning, You should have seen her face.
The tree was fine; the gifts were there, Yet mother gave a roar; She looked at her wet shoes and yelled “What’s this puddle on my floor?”
By Joanna Fuchs
Twas the Night Before Christmas
…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 peddler, 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 of his chin was as white as the snow…
By Clement C. Moore
Twas The Week Before Christmas
‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was hurrying, not even the mouse. The festivities have been chosen with intention and care, So that even this mama could get out for some air.
Expectations were lowered; it’s clear in her head, That simpler traditions require less meds! This mama, in her wisdom, has built in a gap Into her daily schedule to enjoy a quick nap.
Where once there was hurry and stress and commotion, She began to take stock of her own real emotion. She noticed her crabby and downright bad mood, Which at first she would blame on her kids’ attitude!
Enough was enough with all of the fluff, Time to pare down and sort out all this stuff! Gift exchanges and parties and neighbor treats too, Can make this last month feel more like the zoo!
With a few well-asked questions, she took this huge chore, And turned it around to make her heart soar! “Why do I do this, and who’s it really for?” “What value, what sacrifice, will this cost at its core?”
“Could it be done simpler, be honest with yourself, Do you really need that Elf on the Shelf?” Because how will you feel, and how will you deal, When you wind up so sick from way too much zeal?
The joy of this season was meant for you too. That tradition ain’t worth it if you feel like hot poo. So learn from this mama, who wore busy like an honor, But with some real work, made that mindset a goner.
‘Cause it really comes down to how you will choose To cut back and take back; you simply can’t lose. And off in the distance, was heard joy and elation, For each Christmas time is a real celebration,
A time to remodel and live out our lives, In a way that is sane; remember, “Be wise!”
by Arianna Rees
Two Letters To Santa
I wrote a letter to Santa To make sure he would know It’s only two weeks until Christmas And we still don’t have any snow.
Just didn’t want his reindeer To have to work too hard. I was afraid they might get stuck In the mud outside in our yard.
I mailed my letter on Monday, Only two days ago. As I dropped it in the mailbox, It slowly started to snow.
It’s been snowing ever since, More as each day goes by. I’m getting kind of worried now That Santa will think I lied.
I’ll write another letter And mail it off today. Tell Santa not to worry, There’ll be lots of snow for his sleigh.
By Annabel Sheila
Wartime Christmas
Led by a star, a golden star,
The youngest star, an olden star,
Here the kings and the shepherds are,
Akneeling on the ground.
What did they come to the inn to see?
God in the Highest, and this is He,
A baby asleep on His mother’s knee
And with her kisses crowned.
Now is the earth a dreary place,
A troubled place, a weary place.
Peace has hidden her lovely face
And turned in tears away.
Yet the sun, through the war-cloud, sees
Babies asleep on their mother’s knees.
While there are love and home—and these—
There shall be Christmas Day.
By Joyce Kilmer
What Can I Give?
I went to church on Christmas morn to hear the angels sing. My heart was lifted with every chorus; the rafters, they did ring. I sang along with joy in my heart, the greatest sound I’ve ever heard. From “O Holy Night” to “What Child is This?” I cherished every word.
I celebrated the King’s lowly birth; I shouted and danced about. Then came along a “Little Drummer Boy,” and I knew I was without. What had I given the babe this year? A panic crossed my mind. I tried to think of what I had given, but there was none to find.
Did I find a child and clothe him well? Did I seek a widow to bless? Did I go to someone sick in their bed and try to ease their death? Did I ask a sinner to say a prayer or tell him the Good News? Did I give a beggar something to eat or at least buy him some shoes?
I bowed my head as the drummer boy played; my tears started to fall. I didn’t even give Him my best, let alone give Him my all. So this Christmas, Jesus, I bring you my drum, the very beat of my heart. I ask Your forgiveness, for things undone; it’s the only place I can start.
By Fran Peck
What Christmas Is About
The prophets announced Christ’s birth that He would one day come to earth. He was sent by the Father to pay a price, and He became the living sacrifice.
God took a good look across the land, but sadly enough He found no man. Not one was righteous that could die for sinful souls such as you and I.
So God Himself had a perfect plan, and because of His great love for man, God became flesh and came to earth to die for mankind, to give us worth.
The sin debt was paid on the cross so all could be saved and none lost. Satan is defeated in the story we tell and Jesus became our Emmanuel.
Now Christmas comes to one and all to celebrate by those who answer the call. It’s all about Him, the Lord Jesus Christ, who came to offer us the gift of life.
By Lenora McWhorter
What Christmas Means
Christmas is a time when everyone gathers together To share love and bring hope of a light that will last forever. At a time like this, there’s no such thing as being alone. When you’re with the ones you love, you’ll then learn to grow.
Nothing can be more comforting than the love you share. Your family should tell you there is someone who always cares. Everyone is entitled to abundant joy and happiness Because this blessing is a Christmas gift you should never forget.
As long as you’re surrounded with those who love you, We should not despise each other, for love is the ultimate truth. If Jesus Himself said to help and love one another, Then we need to form a fellowship and be there for each other.
This season, we should be able to put aside our differences And stop choosing whom to love based on preferences. Love should be beyond words this time of year, And forevermore, bringing songs of glorious cheers.
May this Christmas be a time of good will, Because love is a mission we all need to fulfill. Let our friendships and relationships have Christ in the center. Let this holiday season be a time of worship and prayer.
Christmas should be about giving and enjoying the good times. It may come once a year, but its impact should never die. Let’s not lose hope of what Christmas should come to be. Jesus came to love, and so should we.
By Edarly Edouard
What Christmas Means To Me
Imagine waking up to that cool winter air to see snow drifting and falling into your hair. To build snowmen and snow angels and get into snowball fights, and to snuggle in front of the fire that cool Christmas Eve night.
Imagine waking up to the hot chocolate and tea; the sweet aroma of cookies and baked goods fill you up with glee. Drinking and singing merrily, surrounded by family and friends, sipping on that chilled eggnog, hoping the night won’t end.
Imagine waking up to the sounds of children’s laughter as they sneak downstairs to get a good look at jolly Old Santa, only to find their parents standing underneath the mistletoe, sharing a sweet and gentle kiss and holding each other close.
Imagine the way you look when Christmas morn is finally here, with shiny gifts in shiny gift paper, teasing of the gifts they bear. As children rip into their presents, clothes, toys and gifts scattered around you could hear the carolers singing their lovely and beautiful sound.
Christmas is for family, happiness and smiles, Things that make the Christmas last all year round. Christmas is for the laughter, cheers and the songs, As we sing, dance, drink, and eat all night long!
Goshen Z. Rahming
When Christmas Is Blue
Seated comfortably, fulfilled yet not Emptiness resides within The reasons are clear Comfortable yet missing a lot
Missing the laughter, the company Longing for the hugs, the jokes Now it’s just the busy city Full yet it’s empty
Sunny and bright, the sun shines But it’s too dark to find The bright faces teasing me Bright yet so dim to find lines
The tune is jolly, yes it’s true But I can’t hear a genuine note Deafening loudness but silence lingers within Loud and jolly yet silent and blue
The table is full and blessed But there’s no one to share with Missing the thirteen pairs of hands used to hold pieces Delightful yet tasteless
Truly, what makes everything around you twinkle Is the source that defines their meaning What you treasure within your heart when not within reach Leaves you longing, making the heart crinkle
Eyes searching Ears waiting Lips pouting Nose running Hands reaching
Smile fades Heart aches Tears roll Wishing next Christmas… it won’t be fall
By Kit Dulay
When Santa Claus Comes
A good time is coming, I wish it were here, The very best time in the whole of the year; I’m counting each day on my fingers and thumbs — the weeks that must pass before Santa Claus comes.
Then when the first snowflakes begin to come down, And the wind whistles sharp and the branches are brown, I’ll not mind the cold, though my fingers it numbs, For it brings the time nearer when Santa Claus comes.
By Eugene Field
Winter Time
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding-cake.
Sad poems are filled with universal sadness and tart bitterness. But sadness has hundreds of different shades and halftones in every poem. Sometimes it is an unbearable feeling that overwhelms the lyrical hero. Sometimes it’s comparable to a prolonged depression without any hope for a future. But in most cases, sad moments in the past will bring a smile to your face after a while.
«A Bit Of Sad, A Bit Of Grey» by Constance J. Livernois
A bit of sad, a bit of grey sorry for myself today
Not sure why, yet!, here it is a bad day that doesn’t fit
Its off kilter, out of sorts don’t quite know the cause
Can’t let it take me down time to lift off the ground
More aggressive, but not mean talk more and be at peace
Trust with caution, quell tears when there are trials to bear
Never give up, don’t walk alone sustain an inner calm at home
sorry for myself today a bit of sad, a bit of grey
***
«A Dog Has Died» by Pablo Neruda
My dog has died. I buried him in the garden next to a rusted old machine.
Some day I’ll join him right there, but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat, his bad manners and his cold nose, and I, the materialist, who never believed in any promised heaven in the sky for any human being, I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter. Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom where my dog waits for my arrival waving his fan-like tail in friendship.
Ai, I’ll not speak of sadness here on earth, of having lost a companion who was never servile. His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine withholding its authority, was the friendship of a star, aloof, with no more intimacy than was called for, with no exaggerations: he never climbed all over my clothes filling me full of his hair or his mange, he never rubbed up against my knee like other dogs obsessed with sex.
No, my dog used to gaze at me, paying me the attention I need, the attention required to make a vain person like me understand that, being a dog, he was wasting time, but, with those eyes so much purer than mine, he’d keep on gazing at me with a look that reserved for me alone all his sweet and shaggy life, always near me, never troubling me, and asking nothing.
Ai, how many times have I envied his tail as we walked together on the shores of the sea in the lonely winter of Isla Negra where the wintering birds filled the sky and my hairy dog was jumping about full of the voltage of the sea’s movement: my wandering dog, sniffing away with his golden tail held high, face to face with the ocean’s spray.
Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit.
There are no good-byes for my dog who has died, and we don’t now and never did lie to each other.
So now he’s gone and I buried him, and that’s all there is to it.
***
«A Dream Within A Dream» by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
***
«A Fairly Sad Tale» by Dorothy Parker
I think that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire In men the rush and roar of fire, The sweet transparency of glass, The tenderness of April grass, The durability of granite; But me- I don’t know how to plan it. The lads I’ve met in Cupid’s deadlock Were- shall we say?- born out of wedlock. They broke my heart, they stilled my song, And said they had to run along, Explaining, so to sop my tears, First came their parents or careers. But ever does experience Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense! Though she’s a fool who seeks to capture The twenty-first fine, careless rapture, I must go on, till ends my rope, Who from my birth was cursed with hope. A heart in half is chaste, archaic; But mine resembles a mosaic- The thing’s become ridiculous! Why am I so? Why am I thus?
***
«A Hero» by Robert W. Service
Three times I had the lust to kill, To clutch a throat so young and fair, And squeeze with all my might until No breath of being lingered there. Three times I drove the demon out, Though on my brow was evil sweat. . . . And yet I know beyond a doubt He’ll get me yet, he’ll get me yet.
I know I’m mad, I ought to tell The doctors, let them care for me, Confine me in a padded cell And never, never set me free; But Oh how cruel that would be! For I am young – and comely too . . . Yet dim my demon I can see, And there is but one thing to do.
Three times I beat the foul fiend back; The fourth, I know he will prevail, And so I’ll seek the railway track And lay my head upon the rail, And sight the dark and distant train, And hear its thunder louder roll, Coming to crush my cursed brain . . . Oh God, have mercy on my soul!
***
«A Legacy Of Love» by Anna Mckenzie
As darkness slowly seeps into the air The September Sun sinks further into the pillows That are made of mountains I feel drawn to the night Which I once so fiercely fought.
Velvety soft wings envelop me And my heart is full of you.
If tomorrow comes without me If the darkness should carry me softly away If I have heard my last dawn chorus, Seen my last bright sunrise, lived my last sweet day
Wrap my love around you like a blanket When winter comes, to keep you warm. And forgive me that I am not with you. Let my love carry you through the storm.
***
«A Letter For Michael» by Misty Rayne
Our lives were shared Until our teens And later, too, Our lives had been Intertwined and crossed The proper moves you taught A gift of defense you gave To save me from naivete’ Golden Gloves you once were Made you full of spunk and sure The boy you were, the man you became We shared our lives then, but not the same Know forever the love we shared Did not die when from us you erred The boy we knew and adored Lost to sadness we abhorred The choices of life open to all The paths we take, to rise or fall My heart is heavy for what is lost The road you took has been the cost For, the one I knew in memory Is now forever gone from me The life of the child is held within I ache for the life that should have been Now in your Mother’s embrace once more Unconditional love for you she bore Her beloved child without the pain She has taken you home to Heaven’s lane.
***
«A Place That Rekindles A Sad Memory» by Francis Duggan
The deep, deep emptiness of solitude That drives one to a melancholy mood I stand here on green bank of riverside With thoughts on recent victim of suicide.
A month ago on evening bright and cool He came here to this deep dark river pool And jumped in knowing well he couldn’t swim And not a soul around to rescue him.
He’d lost the will to live he chose to die In this lone place far from the public eye Depressive mood cruel form of mental pain For one so young had proved too much a strain.
Due to his crave for heroin and cocaine He’d brought upon himself unwanted shame And a life of crime the man was forced to lead And from others he stole for to satisfy his need.
I knew him well which makes it all more sad, He was good type in him there was no bad But far too many perverse types at large nowaday And drug pusher sent him going the wrong way.
A broken hearted widow still in tears For her only son who died aged twenty years But though heavy be the burden of her cross The passing of time will ease her pain of loss.
***
«A Sad Child» by Margaret Atwood
You’re sad because you’re sad. It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep.
Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet. Take up dancing to forget.
Forget what? Your sadness, your shadow, whatever it was that was done to you the day of the lawn party when you came inside flushed with the sun, your mouth sulky with sugar, in your new dress with the ribbon and the ice-cream smear, and said to yourself in the bathroom, I am not the favorite child.
My darling, when it comes right down to it and the light fails and the fog rolls in and you’re trapped in your overturned body under a blanket or burning car,
and the red flame is seeping out of you and igniting the tarmac beside your head or else the floor, or else the pillow, none of us is; or else we all are.
***
«A Sad One Sided Story» by Guarded Heart
I am honored to have been your one and only To have been the love of your life But your so unfocused lately, that all i am is lonely Your busy with other things in your life And no matter where i stand, i’ll always be supporting But it’s all so hard on me, and it affects how you treat me The tone in which you talk to me and the way you ignore me Yes i still care for you, but right now i need someone who Can focus on me and appreciate me This all feels so strange, for we don’t part on bad ways And if you could only see the tears coming down my face, feel my pain If you walked into this room right now, i would forget it all And melt into you, take you away with me But your not here, and you can’t help it And we have a problem that may be beyond our solving I’m not mentally stable to take it all again Better stop now, while i’m beginning to go numb There are so many things here that remind me of you That old brown blanket, the strawberry incense, that sexy little outfit Eventually i’ll stop crying, i want you to be happy To many songs remind me of you or us The memories are overpowering I can still picture your face, when your sleeping As my tears splash on the page I know what is happening, i can feel my heart break Into a few more pieces, and i want you to know that you always had me And should have trusted me, because i was always there And i was always loving, always in love with you
***
«A Sad Return» by David Harris
There are many sad tales of trains taking people away, either to fight a war or just to runaway. As the train pulled into the station yesterday there disembarked a passenger who had been for a long time on far distant shores. Coming home to see his family after years of being away. He ran along to his door, tried to inser his key into the lock, but the key no longer fit. He knocked on the door. Strange faces answered it of people he did not know. He asked about his wife and son who used to live there not all that long ago. The couple looked at each other and offered him in for a cup of tea. When he was comfortable, they broke the sad news to him. His wife and son were no longer living because she could not live without him she took her own life and their son as well. He would find their graves in the cemetery at the bottom of the hill. As he places some flowers on their graves, he said a little prayer for God to look after them until he too would meet them at heaven’s door.
***
«A Sad Story» by Joyce Hemsley
The river flowed through meadows green I saw the wild rose, pink and serene. There came a voice from beyond the blue, An angel from heaven said – it was you.
Resting beneath the rays of the sun, I gazed at the sky to talk with my one. The breezes blew sweet whispers to me Across the mountain and waves of the sea.
The hymn you sang was ‘O Love Divine’ I heard your dear voice and you heard mine. But as the sun went down in the evening sky There was no sound…just your last goodbye.
***
«A Terrible Pain» by Janice M Pickett
Your Pain is really showing I have felt it in my heart I have something good to tell you although we’re worlds apart Please listen to this message I know my words are true Here they are so read them they are especially for you
Strength comes from within you Happiness is your right you do NOT have to feel the pain you do NOT have to fight Just hold your head up and be strong To yourself be true inside there is another girl the one you never knew She’s strong and really gorgeous She’s the one you need to see Remember to look and find her she will set your spirits free
Don’t forget to greet her and say a warm hello let her out and free her let your spirit grow She waits there in your being dormant for so long believe in what you’re seeing and sing a freedom song
The guilt you carry with you is holding you in chains it’s not your fault forgive yourself for the problem still remains you need to find your children you can’t do it if you’re low so lift yourself from the hell you feel You have to let it go Positive thinking and a plan will make your days feel better come on girl you can do it a fighter, a true go-getter for in that fight is victory something you have yet to learn then you will have the happiness for which you truly yearn
***
«Acquainted With The Night» by Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night
***
«All I Have Ever Known» by Ashley Bahr
It’s time for us to leave, But I wish that we could wait. This has been dreaded for too long, And I’m not ready for this pain.
But before we leave each other, Before we have to go, There’s something I must say, Some things you need to know.
You’re all I ever wanted, The one thing I needed, The only one who could find The very best in me.
The only one who saw My empty, broken heart And worked your way right in To fix the broken parts.
You are my everything, And I hope that you can see You’re everything I asked for, Just what I needed you to be.
I hope you’ll always know There is a special part Saved up just for you Right here in my heart.
Deep down, we both knew This ending would come at last, And now that it is here, It’s happening way too fast.
Everything we had Will soon be lost in time. The memories will fade, But I’ll remember this goodbye.
It breaks my heart to know I won’t see you ever again. These are our last moments, And they’re coming to an end.
If you don’t remember this, Then just before you go, Get this one last thing. This you have to know.
You’re the first one I let in And the first I’m letting go. I will love you always. Your love is all I’ve ever known.
***
«Alone» by Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ‘round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold— From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view—
***
«Alone» by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don’t believe I’m wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires With money they can’t use Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues They’ve got expensive doctors To cure their hearts of stone. But nobody No, nobody Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely I’ll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, ‘Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone.
***
«Alone In The Dark» by Gillian Craig
I’ve never felt so alone. The tears stream down my face. I only want to feel you And lie there in my space.
I sit here in the darkness And long to hear your voice. There’s nothing I can do now; Perhaps you’ve made your choice.
My heart will always love you; You’ll always be the one. I won’t ever forget you. What more could I have done?
You used to call me Angel And comfort me while I’d cry. That is all I wanted. Instead, I heard goodbye.
***
«Among the Tranquil Graves» by Aaron Barth-Martinson
You walk among the tranquil graves To take away a piece of their peace, Swirling cheap but colorful wine, Sipping it thoughtfully quaint quite quietly.
I know you have songs sleeping deep in your heart, When you were young you wrote beautiful poems; Though I never read one, your steadfast gaze on your goals Says to me, just to me, soon you will slow down.
To envelop what you alone can engrave, To be present when you steal by those stone faces, To remove the golden stillness from their houses, To paint windows in the clouds with their silver etchings;
View the rain, before it pours—while it is stored. Witness thunder prior to the boom, Can you see the soundless scene within that room? Where everything you’ve done comes back to prove
The sequences of this world are not making you. Tell me you have not written a word since your neglected youth, But laugh with a smile stained red with wine, when you learn the truth. You are writing as you walk among the tranquil graves.
***
«An Irish Airman Foresees His Death» by William Butler Yeats
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death.
***
«Angel Teardrops» by Kathleen Sheppard
My guardian angel, once careless and free, flew into the clouds and lost touch with me. Her tears were cold and wet, falling on my face. Her smile had left us without a trace.
Her angelic lips quivered, frozen and scared, I felt rain clouds visiting, and had to prepare. I knew that angels, often content, were very special presents that God had sent.
To see one so sad, so afraid, so alone, had made me weep while the cold winds had blown.
Her wings lost feathers, comforting and soft, falling from the stars, floating aloft.
Her pain was felt throughout the land, to feel true misery is impossible to stand. I prayed so that when her hurting stops, I’ll be able to taste the angel’s teardrops.
***
«Be A Memory» by Joanna Fuchs
My life is different now. I like it; some of it. Much more time, lots of freedom, but you keep wandering into my thoughts. I feel a pang, a little stab of pain, when I think of the good times, even the not-so-good times. I really want to own this new life. Could you just be a memory? Please?
***
«Because» by Ron Carnell
I write of love and loneliness, Amidst my years of emptiness, And wonder where the wonder went, Because these things I know.
I pen lost words of happiness, Found in the arms of loveliness, And wish my wish were never sent, Because she told me no.
I kneel below the loftiness, Enraptured by my dizziness, A victim of my swift descent, Because I fell so low.
My rhymes have all turned venomous, To twisted words of dreariness, I hate the hate I never meant, Because I hated so.
Yet still I write in artlessness, Of feelings felt in happiness, Of times past time I never lament Because I can’t let go.
***
«Believing» by Tess Templer
How could you think that l wouldn’t know, When we’re so close? The lies – The deception. How could you think they wouldn’t show?
So you want to live in a fantasy world? Go Ahead – I don’t care. Say the words you said were just for me, When some other girl is there?
Someone told me, but l didn’t believe it. Just bitchin’ – Wasn’t true. Discontentment and jealousy talking, Of the love l had for you.
So go on with the pretense, Babe. World’s a stage. We’re actors too. Go on believing your illusion, While l believe in my dream too.
***
«Bereft» by Misty Rayne
Within this burdened breast lies a heavy saddened heart, this weight tortures rest of it you were a part.
Now torn from my grasp, forever it would seem, this loneliness to never lapse so empty have I been.
Once more, your embrace I need to dispel this wretched grief. From it I must be freed, with your compassion my relief.
Come back and take my hand to comfort and to hold, end my devastation, if you can, and soothe my aching soul.
***
«Bored And Sad» by Mikhail Lermontov
It’s boring and sad, and there’s no one around In times of my spirit’s travail… Desires!…What use is our vain and eternal desire?.. While years pass on by – all the best years!
To love…but love whom?.. a short love is vexing, And permanent love’s just a myth. Perhaps look within? – The past’s left no trace: All trivial, joys and distress…
What good are the passions? For sooner or later Their sweet sickness ends when reason speaks up; And life, if surveyed with cold-blooded regard,- Is stupid and empty – a joke…
***
«Broken» by Debbie Dixon
I see me sitting sadly in the corner Knees drawn up tightly to my chest. Mind and body wreaked in sorrow As tears course down my face. I pray to a God I don’t believe in Yet I curse him in the same breath. I look at me with narrowed eyes Pitying the sorry creature I have become. I look into my wretched soul Cursing the emptiness inside. Emptiness put there by my own stupidity. As I stand over the huddling form of myself I see I have gotten what I deserved from life. I had no right to the beautiful love we shared When the love rightfully belonged to her. Sadly I watch the shell of myself slowly cracking Oozing out all the pain and misery within my soul. There on top of all the shattered pieces Lay my beating heart, all alone. I gently pick it up and place it where it belongs. May it rest in peace forever.
***
«Cheating And Lies» by Meagen Deitz
Would you care if we quit talking? Would you care if I went walking? I need to know how you feel So I know how to deal. I like it when you’re by my side. I hate it when you try to hide All the cheating and the lies Bring me one step closer to saying goodbye. I know the cheating is a fact because I’ve caught you in the act. I wish I had more trust in you, but it’s kinda hard when I busted you. Seems to me you wouldn’t care even if I weren’t there. I always wonder who you’re with, hoping it’s not another chick. I’m not saying I don’t believe you. Too many people have told me to leave you, but you are everything to me, which is why I want you me to always be. Believing you may be a mistake, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I really love you; always know I do, and remember there will always be a me and you.
***
«Circus In Three Rings» by Sylvia Plath
In the circus tent of a hurricane designed by a drunken god my extravagant heart blows up again in a rampage of champagne-colored rain and the fragments whir like a weather vane while the angels all applaud.
Daring as death and debonair I invade my lion’s den; a rose of jeopardy flames in my hair yet I flourish my whip with a fatal flair defending my perilous wounds with a chair while the gnawings of love begin.
Mocking as Mephistopheles, eclipsed by magician’s disguise, my demon of doom tilts on a trapeze, winged rabbits revolving about his knees, only to vanish with devilish ease in a smoke that sears my eyes.
***
«Complete Emptiness» by Amanda Rae M.
I had once thought that maybe this was life. No love, no hate, no feelings. My deepest feelings would never be shared. I was so frightened, I didn’t know what to do. Scared of this one man all my life. Face my fear, I told myself! But it’s so hard, so confusing. Do you know what it’s like to wonder in darkness? It never stops, never ends. It goes on like a story with no ending. Do you know how it feels to be afraid of something that you can’t do anything about? That you didn’t ask for or even think about? Do you know what it’s like? Do you know how it feels? It’s complete and pure emptiness.
***
«Confessions Of A Broken Heart» by John Laset
Pain… Tension… Fatigue… Depression… Anger, Aggression, Frustration. All these unwanted sensations – Burning, hurting, tearing. My heart alone, cold and fearing. Why won’t you let me sleep, let me rest, Let me forget To eradicate, eliminate, destroy all my regrets? These memories inside, swirling, twirling, unwilling to reside in the corner of my mind. Repeating, resisting, insisting – Refusing to be denied its recognition Of its position in my Frustration, Confusion, Delusion. Ah, to close my eyes and let time fly by, Because there’s so much to gain By forgetting these dreams driving me insane. Unfocused, unclear, out of control, My world spinning, spinning, spinning, My sanity flying through the door. My reason, my logic, oh, it’s tragic, Like fine sands running through my hands, I’m losing my mind.
***
«Daddy’s Indifference» by Amber Victoria
I thought I saw the child in you, Daddy. Don’t you know what it’s like to be all alone?
I got my first bike today. Oh, the stitches in my mouth…I’ll be okay
And did you know, I really like Patsy Cline.
About what that man did to me, Daddy.. Don’t you worry, I’ll be strong.
You never told me that not everyone would like me, Daddy. But, I guess I should have learned that from you
***
«Diving into the Wreck» by Adrienne Rich
First having read the book of myths, and loaded the camera, and checked the edge of the knife-blade, I put on the body-armor of black rubber the absurd flippers the grave and awkward mask. I am having to do this not like Cousteau with his assiduous team aboard the sun-flooded schooner but here alone.
There is a ladder. The ladder is always there hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for, we who have used it. Otherwise it is a piece of maritime floss some sundry equipment.
I go down. Rung after rung and still the oxygen immerses me the blue light the clear atoms of our human air. I go down. My flippers cripple me, I crawl like an insect down the ladder and there is no one to tell me when the ocean will begin.
First the air is blue and then it is bluer and then green and then black I am blacking out and yet my mask is powerful it pumps my blood with power the sea is another story the sea is not a question of power I have to learn alone to turn my body without force in the deep element.
And now: it is easy to forget what I came for among so many who have always lived here swaying their crenellated fans between the reefs and besides you breathe differently down here.
I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes. The words are maps. I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail. I stroke the beam of my lamp slowly along the flank of something more permanent than fish or weed
the thing I came for: the wreck and not the story of the wreck the thing itself and not the myth the drowned face always staring toward the sun the evidence of damage worn by salt and away into this threadbare beauty the ribs of the disaster curving their assertion among the tentative haunters.
This is the place. And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair streams black, the merman in his armored body. We circle silently about the wreck we dive into the hold. I am she: I am he
whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes whose breasts still bear the stress whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies obscurely inside barrels half-wedged and left to rot we are the half-destroyed instruments that once held to a course the water-eaten log the fouled compass
We are, I am, you are by cowardice or courage the one who find our way back to this scene carrying a knife, a camera a book of myths in which our names do not appear.
***
«Do I Know You?» by Kathy Michael
Hi Grandma, How are you today? Hello Honey, Do I know you? Yes Grandma, it’s me.
This is how we start each conversation and end it too. I’m sorry, do I know you? You used to ask about school. Now it’s, do I know you?
We use to discuss my future plans or the trips you and gramps would plan. Now I talk and on your response I can depend.
You were so active and full of joy. Now you seem sad and angry.
For my visits you were so glad. Now for the distraction you seem mad.
I too am mad at this disease that has us all so sad. I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’ll be going now. Excuse me, do I know you? Isn’t it sad?
***
«Do You Know» by Michelle Boyd
Do you know a life of loneliness and one filled with pain, living a life with nothing to gain, Surrounded by darkness, overwhelmed with shame. A life without peace with no one to blame.
Do you know of a place unseen, A place that holds only shattered dreams, A place filled with sorrow with no end in sight, I am given this gift each and every night.
Do you know of a place so cold, This is the place I call my soul, A place without hope or comforting dreams, A life not worth living wouldn’t it seem.
Do you know of a life that should have never been, And the feeling that today this life has to end. One more day of sadness is much too hard to bear, I am tired of living a life of heartache and despair.
Do you know a person with so much pain inside, Or the feeling of loneliness when no one hears your cries, Maybe when the tears are gone and I can clearly see, The only question left will be… DO YOU KNOW ME
***
«Don’t Be Sad My Darling» by Victoria Hughes
I woke up one day And you were gone. The clouds had turned to grey, I woke up and found You had moved on, No longer bringing sunshine my way.
I got up to a call At the news of your passing My breath caught in my throat, I answered the phone And heard you laughing ‘Don’t be sad my darling, don’t.
I am happy, the old gang’s back together, We are all as one, And when the time comes We’ll be there When it is time for you to move on.
***
«Each Passing Moment» by Simon Agamemnon
All at once I must return to the blue water, before so comforting and yet now strangely insufficient. The knowledge of you, too much to bear with you so far away.
I dread the leaving, and hate the coming distance, the start of the grieving for your love, for your love.
I return to our stars, my link to you and all they represented of you, and me, of ourselves. The scent of you incensing me further, with you not here today.
I dread the leaving and hate the growing distance, the start of the grieving for more love, of your love.
The time is almost upon me and leaving for even a moment, tears my heart in two with no hope of rejoining. The thought of you brings tears to my eyes, stinging, streaming down my face.
I dread the leaving and hate the cold distance, the start of the grieving for all of you and our love.
It’s here now, the time I now die a little inside. Like a flower denied his sunshine I cower in the shadow of hopelessness Waiting……Waiting for you. The thought of your warmth regenerates my petals anticipating your touch, your kiss and your grace.
I dread the maddening night, I hate the cloudy skies that deny me our stars and, the look of love from your eyes.
***
«Ephemera» by Hazel Hall
THERE is a woman who makes my eye A place of shadows, as now and then I see her dimly going by, And faintly coming back again.
She moves as many others move; There is no uttrance in her tread To tempt an echo, nor to prove What other footsteps have not said.
As often as she comes and goes She is forgotten, as now and then The wind is forgotten until it blows A blur of dust down the street again.
***
«Expectations» by Liza Marie
The burning feeling in my throat The pain almost amounts to what I feel in my heart But this time I inflicted this upon myself Hoping at the same time I’ll improve all my flaws that turned you away from me
I look upon myself in the mirror I still don’t like what I see in front of me I see the residue of you around my mouth The remains of your kisses on my cheeks
I can feel your breath whispering across my face It sourly reminds me of the harsh winter wind that struck my face the day you left The irritating memory of the scent of your clothes burn my nose They sting like the fumes that float off a just stricken match
I can still feel you uncaring arms around my waist I feel myself wrapped around your finger by your words Bound and tied down by the deceiving lies you spoke Paralyzed by the sweetness that captured my attention without a second thought
I can sense your presence over me Like a shadow that won’t go away I feel as if I have no way out No light to guide my path
I know that this won’t last forever Just until the day that I’m ready to let you leave my mind Obviously I’m not ready yet For you have lingered in my thoughts ever since the day you left
I still dream of the day where I can live up to what you want me to be The angel I never was The angel I’m determined to be Even though I know the day you’ll want me again is just a faint hope inflicted by my imagination
Until then I’m going to do my best, which might even be the worst thing I could ever do To become what I think that I am not, what I hope that I’m not Which is something I’ll later regret
***
«Failure» by Shawn Pearson
To try and try and yet come up short, to hang my head while giving report, not able to make anything right, turns brightest day to darkest night. Amidst thoughts of strength to find myself weak brings a gut-wrenching pain of which my heart cannot speak.
Failure has never been part of my plan. I curse times I don’t, when I know that I can. My standard, my goal, my hope is perfection, yet I am met with regret, rebuke and rejection. Failure is a companion I have grown to despise, its taunts and its laughs are not found in your eyes.
In you I can see love, understanding and more. You think me a winner regardless lifeis score. When Iive nearly given up, drowning in failure, you life my life, my sight, my plight to the Savior. A loving like yours in this life is most glorious, although I’m imperfect with you and Christ I’m victorious.
***
«Faithful, Unsure Love» by Shana Worthen
Through all the storms and struggles- All the fights and tussles, All the disrespect, and abuse, My love was always true.
When you made me cry, made me feel unloved, I was always there by your side. No matter what you did or what you said, I was proud to be your girl.
My love for you is greater than anything in this world. You know that no one can love you like I do. Everything we have been through, I was faithful to you and only you.
I was your girl, your boo; But all you ever did was treat me like garbage. You said, “Baby, you know I love you.” But true love doesn’t break my heart.
I tried and tried to look past it, But the more I tried, the more I saw the real you. All the lies, all the deceit, You must have thought you were slick.
To love you more than anything Would be ignorant on my part. I can’t image my life without you, But I can’t image my life with you.
I deserve more than what you give me, Better than what I have now. Growing up is something that you need to do. My love for you is always there…. But my heart is moving on to better things.
***
«Fallen Warriors» by James W. Richardson
What ghosts walk these hallowed hills, Where once the cry of battle reigned? Who are these smoky misty forms that By their blood this ground was stained?
Their cry of pain floats on the wind. Echoing from the ridge, Calling for aid and comfort, but alas, The spans too wide to bridge.
Only God can help these souls who have Fallen at the line, Build no monument to these men, this Ground shall be their shrine.
Let angels hover above the trees and Guard these men of yore, Kiss their cheeks and soothe their brow, For death shall be no more.
***
«Farewell My Love» by Joanna Fuchs
Is it really true our love is over now? Can it be time for us to say goodbye? Too soon, it’s much too soon, my love, for me; You smile with ease, but I can only sigh.
We’ve shared our lives and given so much love; I can’t believe we’re really going to part; You’re moving toward a new life without me; I’m left with scars upon my broken heart.
Go on now, if you must; I’ll get along; How much it hurts, I don’t want you to know. I’ll set you free without inducing guilt, But as you leave, the silent tears will flow.
I can’t be mad; I love you way too much; I’ll hide my sadness now, so you can’t tell. Sweet happiness is what I wish for you; Farewell my love, I hope that you fare well.
***
«Feeling Sad Ineptitude» by Margaret Alice
Anne Fine is my favourite author of all time, the way she explains life in “How To Write Really Badly”
Where a mentally impaired child, with only one exceptional gift for model- making, suffers through school
The way I did, having been born into a musical family; yet being unable to play musical instruments
Hating lessons, feeling inferior, never mastering the art I had to conquer to be acknowledged in our family
The permanent feeling of failure, the ever- present fear, knowing whatever I did would never be good enough
The feeling still with me even though giving up music ages ago – the feeling of sad ineptitude never leaving again…
***
«Flash» by Hazel Hall
I am less of myself and more of the sun; The beat of life is wearing me To an incomplete oblivion, Yet not to the certain dignity Of death. They cannot even die Who have not lived.
The hungry jaws Of space snap at my unlearned eye, And time tears in my flesh like claws.
If I am not life’s, if I am not death’s, Out of chaos I must re-reap The burden of untasted breaths. Who has not waked may not yet sleep.
***
«For Love’s Sake» by Susan Christensen
I’m so tired of this empty feeling. I’m so tired of being alone. I lay here staring at the ceiling, Waiting by the phone.
I jump when the phone rings. It brings a smile to my face. When he hangs up my heart stings, And I sink back into my lonely place.
I wish and I dream That we’ll be together soon. I can’t wait until we can look up hand in hand At the stars and at the moon.
I yearn for his kisses His touch – His embrace. I can’t wait for Thursdays When I get to see his face.
I’m flooded with thoughts of him In my heart, soul, and mind. I imagine his touch, So gentle and kind.
I try not to weep. I hope he doesn’t hear my cries, But I can’t stop the tears Falling from my eyes.
I cry a thousand tears And think – how much more can I take? But in my heart I know I’d wait a thousand years All for love’s sake.
***
«For my achondroplasic child» by Luciano R. Mendes
Your mother died of cancer, my child. She died slowy, without drama but with great agony. That’s the answer I gave you when you asked me why I never finished writing my first romance. You took your tiny and deformed hands to my face and touched my eyes with love and violence. I stood, I went away: it was time for your injection: growth hormons from men that are even more dead than me.
***
«Going To Be A Mother» by Ruwaida Van Doorsen
I face the future Already planned for me No nothing for me to expect There is nothing to wait and see
For my destiny has been mapped out I shall have no more youthful days I shall never feel the thrill again Of raucous, rebellious ways
I shall rear a child for eighteen years Maybe even longer For although I’m still a child myself I’m going to be a mother
***
«Gone Forever» by Dane Yule
I miss the times when you were here, Telling me to have no fear. To hold my head up high and strong, Add happy notes to my sad song.
I miss the way you look at me As if I were too blind to see. The path I’m on might hurt and scathe, But all goes well if you just have faith.
I miss the sound of your sweet voice, Through bitter times a saving noise That told me what was right and wrong But rang in my ears for far too long.
A caring person, you were such Who helped and hurt me, oh so much. You’d guide and mislead me through the day You left me lonely when I’d rather you stay.
Over things like that you had no control. A rock set in motion will continue to roll. No matter how hard you tug and heave, You were always pushed and forced to leave.
Then one day you never returned, My tears so hot they almost burned. Aware now about what I lack, But crying and mourning won’t bring you back.
For me to let out what I need to say. I can’t do much more than pray. No longer am I weak; my heart’s quite strong From adding a happy chorus to a sad, sad song.
***
«Good-Bye My Love» by Michael Beals
A thought we shared A life we lived A love we had together
Good times Bad times Nothing lasts forever
A broken heart A tear I shed Love can have much pain
For knowing you For loving you So much I have gained
God’s fairest child An angel I have known My soul you have touched
Good-bye my darling Cindy It’s over but always remember I had loved you so very much
***
«Happy & Sad» by Sumita Datta
Happy and Sad – never come together They are very different in nature,
Happy is very cute, always smiling Sad is just opposite, very depressing….
Sad is very jealous of Happy The moment sad is in, Happy feels unsteady…
When Happy is with me, I am also very happy But the moment Sad is in, I feel scared and shaky…
I just want to be alone, when I am with sad, Though I know that he is very bad….
I know I can’t escape from sad If I try to run away, I will go mad…
So, I try to react normal, irrespective of each other I know that one is going to come after another…
***
«Her Kind» by Anne Sexton
I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind.
I have found the warm caves in the woods, filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves, closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves: whining, rearranging the disaligned. A woman like that is misunderstood. I have been her kind.
I have ridden in your cart, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by, learning the last bright routes, survivor where your flames still bite my thigh and my ribs crack where your wheels wind. A woman like that is not ashamed to die. I have been her kind.
***
«Hope From Heart» by Tara Ong
I write this poem for you to read, with heartache that will forever bleed. I wish things were so different. Sadly, this is what you’ve made of me. I sit here alone day by day, realizing my life is better off this way. I admit I still hurt from all your lies, yet you’ll never hear my cries. You once made my world stand tall and proud. Now what’s left has crumbled down. Something good has come of this, One more chance to find true happiness. I guess this is goodbye, and so it shall be, wishing for your love was foolish of me. I will move on, which was too easy for you. I wrote this poem hoping you’d feel heartache too.
***
«How It Used To Be» by Melanie Edwards
I remember how it used to be when nothing else matter but you and me. Music, country roads, and future dreams.
I miss you, I wish you could see. Although you are here, I miss you and me.
I remember when you said how happy I made you, and you really meant it…now, it’s just a phrase you say without thinking.
I miss those days when you’d call just to say, “Hi,” or, “I love you.” Those days it was so hard just to say good-bye for a while.
I remember how wonderful it felt the first time you held me in your arms, and how after all those years you still made my heart melt.
I miss the old you and the old me, The old us that could just sit and talk for hours and never run out of things to say.
I remember when time simply stood still, when in each other’s arms was the only place we wanted to be…forever.
I miss us as I remember how it used to be… when nothing else mattered but you and me.
***
«How Sad» by Barry Van Allen
Away from me she runs, and after her I go, as reminders of the past are found again.
Sometimes it’s worth the walk, to stroll down memory lane, but mostly, it is just not worth the pain.
The loves my life has known are not forgotten, ‘nor are the lessons taught to me by those once dear, I have never known a love that’s just gone rotten, but, I’ve had many loves just die from simple fear.
So, who’s afraid today? is it you or is it me? or… is it both of us, and both refuse to see?
Within the recent past we’ve known the laughter, and now you know a slice of me that even I don’t, and yes, we ask ourselves ‘ Is this what we were after? ‘, and in the asking, have we doomed the love we’ve known?
It does not grow, so then we know it must be bad, we have misplaced the love that once we truly had, in a way we are together going mad, … Oh! , Dear – – – How sad!
***
«How Sad Can Be This Life» by Francis Duggan
I’ve often thought how sad can be this life The man is separating from his wife And she in hospital not feeling well For some ’tis rough and living can be hell.
Their little boy is only three years old And he’s autistic so i have been told And social workers of him taking care If there’s a God then he’s not always fair.
And it’s been said the mother well may die And if so what’s going to happen to the boy? He needs his mum more than he needs his dad Just thinking of it seems so very sad.
A little boy with blue eyes and blond hair Of sadness that surround him unaware He smiles and takes the social worker’s hand ‘He’s lucky he’s too young to understand’.
I often think how sad this life can be And sadness all around me i can see On a hospital bed an ailing young mother lie And worry for her baby as she die.
***
«I Cry» by Susan Christensen
I’m sitting on the porch, Wind blowing through my hair. The ducks are frolicking in the pond, But I just can’t seem to care.
Life goes on around me. I don’t participate. I go through all the motions, But what I really do is wait.
I dream about the day That you’ll come home to me. Nothing else is important. Why can’t people see?
I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to have fun. I don’t want to do a thing Until all is said and done.
They took you in the summer. Now fall is almost finished. Winter will be here very soon, And then the year will have diminished.
You have no idea how much I cry. I never let you know. It’s so hard out here without you, But I’m not allowed to let it show.
I must pretend all is fine. Everyone thinks all’s okay, But what I never ever tell them Is that I cry for you every day.
***
«I Dreamed That I Was Old» by Stanley Kunitz
I dreamed that I was old: in stale declension Fallen from my prime, when company Was mine, cat-nimbleness, and green invention, Before time took my leafy hours away.
My wisdom, ripe with body’s ruin, found Itself tart recompense for what was lost In false exchange: since wisdom in the ground Has no apocalypse or pentecost.
I wept for my youth, sweet passionate young thought, And cozy women dead that by my side Once lay: I wept with bitter longing, not Remembering how in my youth I cried.
***
«I Hide To Cry» by Veronica Ann Cech
I hide to cry because I have no where to call my own and “happily ever after” is a land too far away, just after once- upon- a- time; just this side of the rainbow
and no one really cares anyway
I hide to cry because I know I will never leave this place and dreams don’t really come true its just all make- believe
and it really doesn’t matter
I hide to cry because my weakness brings my tears and I have no one to hold me close no one here who loves me
and no one really cares anyway
I hide to cry because I embarrass the moon and she is my only friend but she’s too far away to hold my hand
and it really doesn’t matter anyway
I hide to cry because no one really cares anyway and is this pain even real it really doesn’t matter
and no one really cares anyway
I hide to cry because no one validates my pain and no one really cares so why should I
and it really doesn’t matter anyway
***
«I Love You And Goodbye» by Nadine Sandalo
Not once did I expect this to happen. Never in my wildest dream have I’ve fallen, For a boy who wasn’t my prince charming Nor to someone who is my friend.
It must have been your sweetness that melted my heart Or your gentle smile that could be the start. Whatever the reason for me to feel this way, One thing I know – this strange feeling grows stronger everyday.
All this time I’ve been praying For you to see and look at me as a lady. Every now and then I woke up dreaming That I could be your girl, not just a friend.
Then reality broke me into pieces It wounded me badly as it came to my senses That you belong to someone else, And I’m left alone with all this heartache.
A few might have a clue, But nobody knows the pain I’ve been through. They can’t guess the sleepless nights Nor count the tears I’ve cried.
My friends see me smiling and laughing, Yet deep inside there’s no place for denying. I know I have to surrender and let go – At least to cease and ease the misery.
Still I’d be happy, Because happiness means seeing you being one. And let me say this for once, I love you! But I love you more, so goodbye…
***
«I Measure Every Grief I Meet» by Emily Dickinson
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, eyes – I wonder if It weighs like Mine – Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long – Or did it just begin – I could not tell the Date of Mine – It feels so old a pain –
I wonder if it hurts to live – And if They have to try – And whether – could They choose between – It would not be – to die –
I note that Some – gone patient long – At length, renew their smile – An imitation of a Light That has so little Oil –
I wonder if when Years have piled – Some Thousands – on the Harm – That hurt them early – such a lapse Could give them any Balm –
Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve – Enlightened to a larger Pain – In Contrast with the Love –
The Grieved – are many – I am told – There is the various Cause – Death – is but one – and comes but once – And only nails the eyes –
There’s Grief of Want – and grief of Cold – A sort they call “Despair” – There’s Banishment from native Eyes – In sight of Native Air –
And though I may not guess the kind – Correctly – yet to me A piercing Comfort it affords In passing Calvary –
To note the fashions – of the Cross – And how they’re mostly worn – Still fascinated to presume That Some – are like my own –
***
«I Saw You» by Jodie Scheitel
I saw you last night With a girl In your car.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
She was beautiful – Long, straight blonde hair Thin, beautiful.
As I stared into your car, Your eyes fixed on her, I prayed.
I prayed God would make a switch – Replace her with me.
Did you see me? I wonder, Did you see?
I knew, though, That God Would not answer that prayer.
I was not alone. I wished I was; I wished he would go away.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
As the light turned green I took another look; I laughed uneasily.
I wished again For God to make a switch; To replace her with me.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
I wished you would look at me The way you looked at her; I wished you still loved me.
I wished you would touch me The way you touched her; I wished you still loved me.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
I know now – I guess I’ve always known; It’s over.
I’ll never feel your love; I’ll never feel your touch; I’ll never hold you in my arms The way I want to so much.
So, again I wonder As I sit here all alone,
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
***
«I Sing A Sad Song» by Dorothy Holmes
I sing a sad song for the cold, lonely Moments no one will admit to aloud.
I sing a sad song for all of the broken Promises, Wrought by circumstances beyond Anyone’s control.
I sing a sad song for the faces pressing Against the window panes in longing.
I sing a sad song for wild anticipation Of days that never come.
I sing a sad song for the telephone That never rings enough.
I sing a sad song for dreams woven of Hopeless illusions.
I sing a sad song for all of those who Waste time, singing sad songs!
***
«I Sit And Look Out» by Walt Whitman
I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done; I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate; I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer of young women; I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be hid—I see these sights on the earth; I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and prisoners; I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who shall be kill’d, to preserve the lives of the rest; I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like; All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out upon, See, hear, and am silent.
***
«I Still Miss You» by Angela Craig
This yearning in my heart This confusion in my mind The words left unspoken Haunts me all the time
Everyday I watch pass by With an emptiness in my life And a hole in my heart Where only you belong
There are nights I wake up crying And wishing you were here To hold me in your arms And kiss away my tears
There is something that keeps me holding on – What I’ll never know But one day things will go my way And I’ll have you in my arms
***
« I Tried So Hard» by Whitney Barton
I tried my best. I gave you my all, And now there’s nothing left.
You stole my heart Then tore it in two. Now I’m falling apart And don’t know what to do.
Divided by decisions, Burned by the fire, Confused by your words, Tempted by desire.
I’m living in the present. My mind is on the past. Not knowing what I’ll lose, Not knowing what will last.
Blinded by fear, Drowning in doubt, Struggling to be free, Looking for a way out.
***
«If I’d Never Met You» by Joanna Fuchs
If I’d never met you, I wouldn’t feel the pain Of losing your sweet love; I wouldn’t feel insane.
But if I’d never met you, I wouldn’t know the pleasure Of ecstasy’s warm gifts And memories to treasure.
Now moving on with life, I force a wistful grin, Questioning what went wrong, Wondering what might have been.
***
«If Only» by Joanna Fuchs
If only I had done the things That keep true love alive, I wouldn’t have to acknowledge now That our love cannot survive.
If only I had described to you The joy you brought to me, Instead of bringing you complaints, You wouldn’t have set me free.
If I had touched you, kissed you, Love, If I had loved you stronger, If I had appreciated you, We would have lasted longer.
If I had often said to you, “It’s you whom I adore,” Perhaps you’d still be with me now, If I had told you more.
If only I had treated you As if we were best friends, I wouldn’t be alone in grief, As our faded love finally ends.
If only I didn’t have to say, “If only, my love, if only,” I wouldn’t be all by myself So sorry, sad and lonely.
***
«If Raindrops Were Tears» by Joanna Fuchs
If raindrops were tears And it rained every day, The rain couldn’t wash My heartache away.
You’re still my ideal; My love never dies, But it cuts to the bone– What I see in your eyes.
You want me to stop; You want to be friends, But you’ll be my true love Until breath and life ends.
***
«If These Walls Could Talk» by Christelle Duvenage
If these walls could talk, you’d know my body is dead, my mind has been taken over, that’s why I am so scared, I can’t control it, anger is making me blind, I’ve been left here on my own chained to a hate of some kind. If these walls could talk.
If these walls could talk, you’d know about my fears, about all those nights I screamed for help, about all my fallen tears. You’d know about the demons haunting me at night, you’d be able to help me keep my fire alight, if these walls could talk.
If these walls could talk they would say that it’s all right, God sends His angels to look over me at night. They’d encourage me, say though I am alone it doesn’t mean I’m on my own. He watches me, from above and showers me with all His love, if only these walls could talk.
***
«In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad» by Alfred Edward Housman
In my own shire, if I was sad, Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade’s pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood.
Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another’s care. They have enough as ’tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill.
***
«In Valid Feelings» by Lloyd Klumpp
Within you was a burning need I could not satisfy. My broken seed would not allow The joining of our essence.
So we turned to science To find a way to mimic Or bypass natures tools, And give us new life.
High with hopes and full of love We learned of methods used. Of ova, sperm and embryo, Of ultrasound and drugs.
But soon reality crushed us. There was no excitement here. Instead of flesh and pleasure There was cold hard steel and pain.
I can’t erase the etching Scraped into my mind, Of the needles given to you, Some driven by my hand.
Your tears of pain were echoed In every part of me. Each stab a mortal wound To our unity once strong.
The spark was then rekindled When under the microscope We saw groups of cells, Clumped together, Fusions of you and I.
An agonizing wait, A nervous phone call made. Soaring hope came crashing down. Those tiny threads of life were no more, Lost, Gone.
Emptiness invaded us Shattering dreams of if. Grief pervading every breath Despite the briefness of that flicker.
We mourned the passing Of those tiny lives made of us, Then buried the remains Of all that once was ‘we’.
Your need remains unfulfilled. My guilt is justified.
***
«Is It Enough?» by Joanna Fuchs
When we converse, it’s just surface stuff; We say some words, but is it enough? We get along; we rarely fight, But where is the spark, the joy, the delight?
We’re settled into the same routine; Sometimes I’d like to flee this scene. Everything’s easy; we don’t have it rough, But sometimes I wonder: Is it enough?
***
«Is This What Love Is?» by Joanna Fuchs
Is this all we have together? Is this what love really is, Yelling through a quarrel And making up with a kiss?
Why can’t we get along? Why do we have to fight? We starve true love by day And feed lust all through the night.
I wish we’d settle down; I wonder where peace went. Why do we pick at each other; Why can’t we be content?
If this is what love is, If tenderness has flown, I’m thinking more and more, It’s better to be alone.
***
«It’s His Fault» by Amanda Grey
Why do you beat yourself up because you had the courage to love, gave all of yourself in hopes that he was the one?
Why do you beat yourself up when it was his choice to be unfaithful, his choice to hurt you?
Why do you beat yourself up, knowing that you had done everything for him, supported him, comforted him, loved him more than you loved yourself?
Why, after his lies and deceit, do you still love him and want him to love you? Why, after the repeat of hurt and trust being lost, do you think that he deserves a love as pure as yours?
Why do you beat yourself up over what you could have done better when you know deep down there was nothing?
What makes you search for answers as to why when they will not change the past nor mend your broken heart?
Why, when a man decides to cheat, do we blame ourselves? Why does it make us question every little detail about who we are, make us think that we are not worthy of love?
Why, when a man cheats, do we still long for him to change, realize how wrong he was, and fall in love with us again?
Why do you beat yourself up, when you deserve more, when all that you have done is loved someone completely?
Give yourself time, and the pain will subside, and the mourning will cease. You will see that you are still you, still wonderful, beautiful you
Nothing has changed except your experience in love and your determination to share love with another.
As you can never truly love someone until you learn to love yourself.
***
«It’s Sad How Things Come To An End» by Chanel Jackson
It’s sad how things Especially good things come to an end But they must So that we may start a new beginning Learn new lessons And enforce old ones Change the things we can And accept the things we cannot We need to move on In order to see The great things that may become of me And of you Trial after trial Error after error It is how we become anew Yet remain the same Because it is ourselves we stay true So although we may be sad to see it leave We must let it go for it has done its part And greet the new that will strengthen our heart
***
«January’s Sad Refrain» by Teresa Dearing
Gone, the last holiday, Another year passed away. Now our taxes we must pay, Cold and gray marks the day.
Barren trees and icy ground, Not much pleasure to be found, Winter holds us in its grip, As icy winds howl and rip.
Move with caution all a-round, Train whistles a lonly sound. If only I was half my age, I’d ride to warmth, with my wage.
But for now I will light the fire, And spin warm dreams as I retire, To dream of sun that burns like fire, Of heat and sweat that I’ll soon tire.
Oh, please just let the winter pass, For now I long to mow the grass. Human nature’s a fickle lass, We long for what we can not grasp.
We may wish this time to past, But life’s time moves much too fast. So look for joy, ignore the cold and pain, We all know January’s sad refrain.
***
«Let the Past Die» by William Ellery Leonard
Friends tell me (friends in life and books well read): ” Let your Past die with all its grief and riot. ” Let the Past die! — The past is never dead! Not at high noon! Not in the starry quiet! My Past is gesturing in this limp you pity, And whitens in this scar against the blast, And not a tree, a book, a song, a city, But has to-day its meaning from my Past. There is, good friends, scant wisdom in this ” letting ” ; I am my past so long as I am I; And in a brave reshaping, not forgetting, Is my one hope and action not to die: The Past that might have killed me if it could I sternly mold to art and hardihood.
***
«Letting Go» by Judy Burnette
How do you walk away from someone you love And take the road of friend; Can you reroute the course you have taken And start over once again?
I don’t really want to let you go But inside me I know I must; The times we’ve loved . . . the times you’ve left My heart says stay . . . but it’s my mind I must trust.
We have shared so much together Laughter . . . fun times . . . tears; Yet sometimes we can’t turn back time We must walk away, and allow ourselves to heal.
I know one day you will be happy And your soulmate you will find; I know we each have one out there Even if for now . . . only in our minds.
May life be gentle with you May God’s best come your way; And on some quiet tomorrow You will realize things were better this way.
***
«Lies» by Stanley Naber
Lies hurt more than the truth why do I live in self pity and expect disappointment more then optimism or does enjoyment lead me to new worlds which I can not live on the air is getting thin and I want to stay for some time too bad I can not live in my dreams for then utopia would be reached wouldn’t it
***
«Life Can Be So Sad» by Joyce Hemsley
More handsome than a movie star Your sepia portrait stands apart Affecting my life each morn and night imprinted upon this aching heart.
Silver hair caressing your face Eyes alive with magical glow Charm that could launch a thousand loves You were my darling. I loved you so.
Adored even more than you were before In the hidden gallery of my heart Where nobody goes ~ nobody knows That you are my secret work of art.
Your beautiful portrait will ever be Here at my bedside comforting me. But deep in my soul, I will always be Crying a river because I lost thee.
***
«Life Must Be Very Sad For Her» by Francis Duggan
Life must be very sad for her so feeble, old and gray From her bed helped to her wheelchair her life’s hours tick away A drive in the nursing home bus once a week with her elderly mates she does look forward to She can only live for as long as she can but then that’s all we all can do, In her mid nineties she must be near the twilight of her life For fifty years to a hard working man she was a devoted wife He died some twenty years ago soon with him she will lay In the old graveyard by the hill just a short drive away From the nursing home where she now reside and though she knows her end is near Her husband she is going to join so death she does not fear Her daughter even growing old she now is seventy one And her grandson in his early forties with a teenage daughter and son, In her mid nineties and in need of care and her better days long gone And only her great love for life it keeps her keeping on.
***
«Lonely Tears» by Angela Pilant
First I shed a single tear because we are apart, wanting nothing but to be with you, to make a brand new start
The 2nd tear I shed is a lonely tear indeed. My mind goes wild, my body goes numb, and my heart begins to bleed.
The 3rd tear I cry wanting to feel your touch, to taste your kiss and lips on mine, I want so very much.
The 4th tear I cry thinking of you at night, wanting you to hold me as I grip my pillow tight.
The 5th tear I cry stains my pillowcase. My mind drifts off in la la land as I take us to that place.
The 6th tear I shed my thoughts go very deep, simply dream of me and you as I drift off fast to sleep.
***
«Lost Souls» by Sweet Madness
In this heartless creation It is hard to understand Why some souls choose to wander Forgetting
Yet I am lost without wandering My love is a ghost Ancient – with wisdom Vital – with tears Not able to move on Unable to let go
It’s hard to remember a love You don’t recognize in this life Yet the memory is without thought Agony – without knowledge This love – is without mercy
Passing through eternity Life to the next Forever searching In a labyrinth of whispers For a blissful love Lost
Longing for the touch I’ll sense when I feel Whispering to my heart Comforting this stoned soul
Our love burns within me But I am lost in the shadows This entity of dreams Forever killing me
I believe this love is eternal The flame will not relinquish Forever circling me The very matter of my existence
But for now I simply breath Awaiting your rescue Music – bonding our souls Pain – stirring the memories While silence shouts out this melody
***
«Lost… » by John Laset
My Angel… Where are you? I’m lost, confused, alone… I cannot see you… There is darkness around me; The fire has died, my light blown away By an unwanted breeze… I am wandering, going around and around in circles… Is there no end to this loneliness?
My Angel… Where are you? My heart is sad, it cannot hear your songs. All I hear is the echo of your love, Its melody fading… Fading… Fading…
Now there is only silence, maddening silence. It is suffocating, draining my heart of your songs… Is there no escape from this madness?
My Angel… Where are you? I am cold… I cannot feel your wings around me, Cannot feel your loving arms to embrace me… There is only emptiness… Emptiness that pulls, and pushes, and shoves… The emptiness is within me, devouring me whole, Leaving nothing left but an empty soul… Where are you, my Angel? Come to me, fill me up with your love… Make me whole again… Do not leave me in this pit of despair…
My Angel… Where are you? I cannot see you, hear you, feel you… Have you gone away from me? have you taken away my heart…
… My Angel,
… where are you?
***
«Masquerade» by Nicole Sotelo
As I sink into the shadows, the music begins to fade. The people have all left me, and so ends this masquerade.
The food has all been tasted, bits thrown upon the floor. My reality sinks in now. This illusion is no more.
As I look into the mirror, I cannot give myself a name. Through all these lies I’ve hidden, and lost myself in shame.
The doors will never open to this castle I have built – set aside is my pain, so remains this saddened guilt.
***
«Memories» by Ruqaiya Curmally
Haunt me, Dimensions of dreams, Swirl by, Colours of sorrow, Merge the past, Into my today, Play with my mind, Steal away my tomorrow. Desert me, Images of what might have been, Relinquish your hold, On my heart’s shattered being Taunt me , Memories of yesteryear, Take away , My corroded soul, Within the drop of a single tear.
***
«Mirror» by Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful, The eye of a little god, four-cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
***
«Miss Rosie» by Lucille Clifton
when I watch you wrapped up like garbage sitting, surrounded by the smell of too old potato peels or when I watch you in your old man’s shoes with the little toe cut out sitting, waiting for your mind like next week’s grocery I say when I watch you you wet brown bag of a woman who used to be the best looking gal in Georgia used to be called the Georgia Rose I stand up through your destruction I stand up
***
«My Everything» by Dean Coombes
You’re my love, my life, The air that I breathe. You’re my soul, my happiness, The all that I need.
You’re my light, my dark, The stars in the sky. You’re my ups, my downs, The reason I try.
You’re my strength, my weakness, The love from the start. You’re my heartache, my pain, The beat of my heart
You’re my tears, my joy, The love that you bring. You’re my world, my galaxy, You’re my everything.
***
«My Own Bed Of Roses» by Leigh Anne Dawson
To lie in a bed of roses, To feel the silkiness against my skin, The fragrance How it comforts me, Though feeling so alone, Once again. There was a time When skies weren’t cloudy, And it seldom ever rained, But as the clouds begin to rumble, Once again there’s so much pain. So I’ll lie in my bed of roses, And wait till the storm subsides, And use the petals from my bed, To wipe away the tears I’ve cried.
***
«My Sad Captains» by Thom Gunn
One by one they appear in the darkness: a few friends, and a few with historical names. How late they start to shine! but before they fade they stand perfectly embodied, all
the past lapping them like a cloak of chaos. They were men who, I thought, lived only to renew the wasteful force they spent with each hot convulsion. They remind me, distant now.
True, they are not at rest yet, but now they are indeed apart, winnowed from failures, they withdraw to an orbit and turn with disinterested hard energy, like the stars.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
***
«My Sister Buried in a Trunk» by Aaron Barth-Martinson
I was around— Every night I called up to her window Emily—Emily, don’t die alone…
I was there As close to serenade I tried to make my voice sound, When I sung out to her: Come down Emily, Emily come take a walk with me— Put your feet on solid ground!
I was confined to come each eve, I cried for her to glimpse my sight, I saw but a lonely light; A discomforted form at work.
I swear I came even on wild nights, Where now I think the rain tried To provide me with some future incite, Though I was unaware of what she wrote I knew that she did write, I thought she would retire soon from sowing, The window was high, With candle light still glowing, I whispered, Emily—Emily Please stop what you are doing, Just for a moment— come walk with me Emily—Emily, don’t die alone…
I heard a pace, I heard her rise, I heard her heart— it was racing, I thought I could hear her feet on the steps– The upstairs window flew open— The door below stayed closed— I should have known it was her life that was going…
There was no light in the window anymore Later nights when I did call; My life without her had little answer… It was strange how I kept facing Returning to where she went departing Without a care at all.
But when I broke the rules So sick with love from calling, I found a trunk full Of slanted verse And I was no longer falling.
Yet after I made your work immortal, You died again, in my grief.
Now often nights I still come by, Sometimes I think I see, A shadow pass over your room; I shed a tear for Emily.
***
«Never Asked» by Jessica Camp
I never asked you to call me, Never asked to go with you that day. That one night was perfect. We were one, but I knew I’d be the one to pay. I never asked you to make me feel good, Never asked you to look my way. It takes two to do what happened that night, so there’s nothing more you can say. I never asked for you to care, Never asked to be the only one. I knew she was in your life too, But still I thought I’d won. I never asked for promises, Never asked if I could put my trust in you. I always though I could handle the things you “so often” like to do. I never asked you to turn away, Never asked you to make me cry. You go on with your life like nothing ever Happened while I slowly start to die. I never asked for this loneliness, Never asked to be the one to blame. You tried putting all the guilt on me while you Were the one playing the mind game. I never asked for this empty feeling, Never asked you to be there. While I sit here confused in my own little world, All you can do is stare. I never asked if you loved me, Never asked you to take something special away. I can’t think straight and my heart aches, all Because of that day. I never asked for an explanation, Never asked to be on your mind that day. Even though I never asked you anything, I’m broken hearted either way.
***
«No One Should Be Sad» by Carl Johnson
When ever life’s too much for me, I stop and think a while. I dream of floating of to sea, This always makes me smile.
Far away from all my fears, My mind is free at last. No more upsets, No more tears, A future with no past.
My boat it shifts through waters calm, With sails all puffed up wide. I feel relaxed and far from harm, As my boat so smoothly glides.
I stand up front with Oceans bare, By this I mean no land. No soul in sight to make a pair, My boat is just one manned.
So on I go, Alone I thought, Until I looked aside. I was surprised what Nature brought, Two dolphins at my side.
By now I’m truly far away, In mind and distance too. The dolphins lead me far astray, They also could take you.
We reached a place far out to sea, That looked like heavens door. For all around my boat and me, Where dolphins more and more.
They swim around these waters blue, They sometimes jump up high. You could see these visions too, When things are hard Just Try.
I have these dreams Most of the time, As life too much for me. They take me away from all the grime, Just try it and you’ll see.
***
«Nobody Knows» by Azumi Zaima
Nobody knows it’s empty, The smile that I wear. The real one is left behind in the past Because I left you there…
Nobody knows I am crying. They won’t even see my tears. When they think I am laughing, I wish you were here…
Nobody knows it’s painful. They think that I am strong. They say it won’t kill me, But I wonder if they are wrong…
Nobody knows I miss you. They think I am all set free, But I feel like I am bound with chains, Trapped in the mystery…
Nobody knows I need you. They think I can do it on my own, But they don’t know I am crying When I am all alone…
***
«Now That You’re Gone» by Joanna Fuchs
Now that you’re gone, I realize How much you meant to me. My loss is wide as a starless night sky, And deep as a stormy sea.
I miss the comfort of your sweet love, Your absolute devotion; Now I’m a fountain of endless tears, A pool of sad emotion.
They tell me I should move on with life, That time will heal my pain; I smile and nod and agree with them, While I slowly go insane.
***
«Ode To You» by Carl Sinclair
Every morning I see your face, And for that fleeting second I’m in a different place, A place where we smiled, laughed, and talked, A place where we could hold hands wherever we walked, I’m reminded of this each and every day. Then the sleep clears and it’s all blown away.
Realization sets in and I’m all alone. I quickly have to check my phone In case you’ve called or sent me a text. Then it hits harder as what come next Is the empty screen with your smiling face And the emptiness of this forsaken place.
I wither up inside as all my hopes disappear And the burn in my heart really starts to sear. I sink back in my bed and think of you And wonder if there’s anything I can do. I’m knocked back every time I try to get through, And now the decision is up to you.
Leave me out here in the cold and the rain, Leave me to choke on the tears and the pain, Missing you every minute of every day, Loving you more and more in my way. One day, my love, this will all be like a dream. I just hope we can dream it together in our place so serene.
***
«Odysseus to Telemachus» by Joseph Brodsky
My dear Telemachus, The Trojan War is over now; I don’t recall who won it. The Greeks, no doubt, for only they would leave so many dead so far from their own homeland. But still, my homeward way has proved too long. While we were wasting time there, old Poseidon, it almost seems, stretched and extended space.
I don’t know where I am or what this place can be. It would appear some filthy island, with bushes, buildings, and great grunting pigs. A garden choked with weeds; some queen or other. Grass and huge stones . . . Telemachus, my son! To a wanderer the faces of all islands resemble one another. And the mind trips, numbering waves; eyes, sore from sea horizons, run; and the flesh of water stuffs the ears. I can’t remember how the war came out; even how old you are–I can’t remember.
Grow up, then, my Telemachus, grow strong. Only the gods know if we’ll see each other again. You’ve long since ceased to be that babe before whom I reined in the plowing bullocks. Had it not been for Palamedes’ trick we two would still be living in one household. But maybe he was right; away from me you are quite safe from all Oedipal passions, and your dreams, my Telemachus, are blameless.
***
«Of Sad Eyes» by Taher Shemaly
Hello how are you? my dearest friend that I ever had How’s everything going on with you? missed your old days that with you I had Ye my friend of the sad eyes
I remember how you used to play your harp and flute in gay The fun we had and the happy memories away from troubles and the tragedies Not like now my friend of the sad eyes
I wonder where did you go? and where you are hiding? scared of this world of ego? or maybe you are on your bed dying? Where are you, my friend of the sad eyes?
Here, we have a moon with light and a sun that is so bright But not easy life to be engaged and nothing to you to be compared Ye my friend of the sad eyes
And though they are beautiful the plenty of roses that we have here But destiny and hearts are so harmful in the world we are living here Really missed my friend of the sad eyes
My thought and soul are longing to know to whom am I talking But after many trials to know who is the ghost that I would never know It was but me, the one of the sad eyes
***
«On Another’s Sorrow» by William Blake
Can I see another’s woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another’s grief, And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow’s share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be! And can He who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird’s grief and care, Hear the woes that infants bear —
And not sit beside the next, Pouring pity in their breast, And not sit the cradle near, Weeping tear on infant’s tear?
And not sit both night and day, Wiping all our tears away? Oh no! never can it be! Never, never can it be! He doth give his joy to all: He becomes an infant small, He becomes a man of woe, He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh, And thy Maker is not by: Think not thou canst weep a tear, And thy Maker is not near.
Oh He gives to us his joy, That our grief He may destroy: Till our grief is fled an gone He doth sit by us and moan.
***
«One Art» by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
***
«One Sad Bobby In A Panda Car» by Amy Kerswell
Ten little bobbys in a panda car. One got fryed for bacon. One went to market. One got shot.
The other 7 chasing me In their cattle wagon. Chasing me but cant find me. They found a mud puddle Instead.
Farmer confused one for a pig Then there was 6 left in the panda car.
I led them to a pig sty Led them back home. Farmer took them to be sluatered.
Oh shit there all dead
***
«Out Out» by Robert Frost
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside them in her apron To tell them “Supper.” At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. “Don’t let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!” So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
***
«Overcast» by Ash Daniels
song, my tempest angel ring through my clouded breath tones carry the lyrics of life to bring the passage of death
oh, sweet melody rapture i beseech you in respect bring solitude to its end with your holy dialect
tear tone notes of chant blackens the once blue sky softens my restless spirit to ease me where i lie
words from unknown gods sung through sirens lips enchant this weary soul buried in death’s own crypts
so long, too long ago was when i heard it last a tender sorrow tale that accompanies my past
but now i will sing and release my heavy chains so i can live in harmony beneath the pouring rains
***
«Pain, Pain, Go Away» by Kari Johnston
Pain, pain go away! Please do not come back another day. Tears falling down my face. Oh, how I wish for his warm embrace. Wonder if he cares about me. Wonder if this is supposed to be. How can he stand there and break my heart? How did we allow us to grow so far apart? My dreams of us being happy is not going to come true. All I am feeling is down and blue. Pain, pain go away. Bring me back to another day where he loved me and we thought we were meant to be. I will not stop loving you; that much is true, but I will be stronger in time and not feel so blue. You will always be in my heart, even when we are apart. One day I will have that warm embrace, and tears will stop flowing down my face. Pain, pain go away. Leave me alone and do not stay.
***
«Please Dont Be Sad» by Amy Louise Kerswell
Please dont be sad. Yes I took my own life. Becuase it was to much strife. My pain I couldnt bare. At least now you dont have to watch me killing myself. It’s all done and over. I’m sorry really I am. But please just remember this.
Please dont cry for me mummy. I am right here. Although you cant see me. I see your tears. I visit often.
And when its time to close your eyes. On your pillow is where I lay. I hold your hand and stroke your hair. And whisper in your ear. If you sad today mummy. Remember I am here.
***
«Please, Dad» by Michael Anderson
As soft winds sweep away the days I look back on life through a haze. Remember playgrounds, parks and friends, In childlike gaze that never ends. The laughter in a game of catch, Shall memory ever attach… To innocence in youthful eyes, Catching the ball to Dad’s surprise.
I recall my first bike, first wreck, Who picked me up, said, “What the heck?” Convinced me to give one more try, While, knees skinned, I forgot to cry. Just the joy knowing he was there, Making him proud my only care. There was nothing I couldn’t do, My heart held fast that to be true.
Though teenage years were kind of rough, I sure wasn’t too big or tough. You taught me to defend what’s right And never back down from a fight. So I learned the hard way to stand, Still, with each lump, I found your hand. Drawing from you an inner strength, And stubborn pride of equal length.
But there the line of fate was drawn, As though I blinked and you were gone. I found myself facing the sun, Not man, not boy, fatherless, one. Eyes blinded by a void inside, I could not live that you had died. Alas finding it to be true, I could do nothing without you.
Please, Dad, today just hear my call, I’m sorry that I dropped the ball. My life is wrecked, my knees are skinned, My emotions undisciplined. I can’t get up although I try, Please don’t be upset if I cry. Though I can’t fight what I can’t see, Please, Dad, say you’re still proud of me.
***
«Poor Sad John Clare» by Francis Duggan
As a poet of Nature writing in the English language few with him to compare But life it was awful for poor sad John Clare In Northampton asylum he was locked away And there sad and abandoned he lived his last day In his poems he glorified Helpston where he lived as a boy And Worldwide lovers of Nature poetry his poems do enjoy In his life unsung and though back to Nature long gone His poems celebrated and his fame living on, The Thrush’s nest and the Badger and the March nightingale And the Quails Nest he found whilst walking in the vale Forgotten in life but now a major poet And in the World of literature seen as one of note His Nature poems a literary breath of fresh air Yet in his life he knew of heartbreak and despair.
***
«Richard Cory» by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, “Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich – yes, richer than a king – And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.
***
«Sad» by Cristina Geanta
sad for all the time my embrace was empty of you sad for being stubborn to be sad sad for touching objects baring your presence sad for not touching you…
sad for re adi ng your name everywhere i turn sad for all the blue jackets other men should not have worn sad for all my weak spots left to be weak sad to open my eyes in the morning
sad for a cruel truth not even dreams can survive sad without dreaming sad of nothing to hope for sad for still seing beautiful things worth for you to know
sad… just what she is not
***
«Sad» by Miranda Overton
I am sad when your around you, I am sad with you, You always make me sad, will you ever make me feel more than sad? do I make you sad?
All I know is you make me sad, will you ever love me? even though you make me sad, I still love you, so I’m makeing myself a Promise, I will never be sad again when your around.
***
«Sad» by Sophia White
I don’t want to run around This great big wheeling earth Like a hamster in a ball Rising just to fall No sacred home or hearth.
I don’t want to run this race This speeding, staring track Is filled with lies And cutting eyes Fingers pointed at your back.
I don’t want to join this crowd This crowd of human sneers It’s naught but hate Appetites to sate On unsuspecting peers.
I don’t want to run this earth Where the darkness grows so deep Eyes behind hands None understand. Just let me go home – and sleep.
***
«Sad» by Bob Oldfield
Sad the situation When those who think they have it Sit in judgement On those who have it differently Or on those Who don’t have it at all.
Sad the situation When intolerance Points it’s fickle finger In condemnation
Sad the situation When those who Choose such a way Also claim to walk With the Man Of Compassion
Let him who is without sin Cast the first stone
***
«Sad & Suicidal» by Brandi Young
It pains me to see you this way To see you so sad and suicidal If i could only kiss you and make your problems fade away
I would. I would die a thousand times Before i could ever forget about you I love you and i won’t find anyone like you!
So why search for someone When i know they could never Compare to you! I’ll only be happy if i’m with you!
I can’t stand To see you so sad and suicidal It rips me apart at the seems and i unravel in front of the whole world
They stared an walked on! Cause no one cares but you and i! and it’s only for us to handle!
I cried when i’d seen her sitting there What a razor in her hand and tears streaming down her face She’s so sad and suicidal
I sat up all night holding her in my arms Singing ‘you are my sunshine’ She has a lot to live for, but she doesn’t care She’s so sad and suicidal
When she told me i deserve someone better I told her you are my only love and that will never change She’s so sad and suicidal
***
«Sad And Lonely» by Taher Shemaly
As I started sipping my daily lovely coffee A race of memories just began in my mind of old days, the hard and the easy And looking at myself now with a tear in my eye just to find myself sad and lonely
And as I walk down that antique street where my old little house was meant to be It feels hard to breathe just to know that I am out of it now and maybe maybe forever I would be like a rover that tells stories of how sad I am and lonely
Those stairs I used to go up and down everyday in fast rhythm used to be happy In my room I used to stay most of the time never thought that i would live in a tragedy But words are not useful now for sad I am and lonely
Though poverty was my company long ago but riches couldn’t bring back honey The honey I saw in my sweet old days Days of the poverty and agony Believe me my friend riches won’t give you a thing But to make you sad and lonely
***
«Sad Eyes» by Linda Guthrie
Sad eyes..that used to shine so bright, But you’re gone…and now they see no light. They are dark and sad With a look so far away, Clouded by the tears… That now are here to stay. Nothing can bring back the shine That you took from me dear, Another love I’ll never find .. No arms will hold me near. So cry…cry…cry sad eyes Cry into the night, Take away my sunshine And shut out all the light.
***
«Sad Eyes» by Destiny Avaritia
My sad eyes Blurred by tears Heart broken By the world they now fear
My sad eyes Now look down Afraid to look upon the town
My sad eyes Full of aqua blue The whitest whites So wondrous and true
My sad eyes One tear holds One-hundred different reasons For sadness to behold
My sad eyes Still afraid to see What’s happening To our beautiful country
***
«Sad Faced Dan» by Francis Duggan
His heart is full of stress by stress he is weighed down The one known as sad faced Dan the saddest one in town He never laugh or smile he never crack a joke He must not like the World he seems a sad poor bloke When he walks down the street he never says hello To anyone he meet not even those he know Yet he is a good man he works hard for his pay Nor ill of anyone you never hear him say, He lives in his own quiet way and he does his own thing The sad one of the town and none his praises sing, The town’s most crooked one he has a cheerful smile Yet he flatters to deceive and his heart is full of guile And unlike poor sad faced Dan he lacks in honesty But the face you look upon is not always the soul you see.
***
«Sad Green Eyes» by Linda Ori
You look at me with sad green eyes, I’m overcome with feeling- Such deep emotion they disguise, Yet send my senses reeling; They speak to me of loneliness And feelings unexpressed, Of hopes and dreams unrealized And love gone uncaressed; They cry to me of urgency To experience it all- But here you are in limbo With your back against the wall; I wish I had the answers To the questions they impose- I’m drowning in those sad green eyes And the sorrow only grows; If I had one magic wish, You know what it would be? To see instead of sad green eyes Green eyes that smile for me.
***
«Sad Holidays» by Donna Nimmo
The holidays are getting near Bringing most people great cheer These days bring back pain from the dead The holidays I always have to dread Thinking back through the many years Trying to be happy, holding back the tears Getting through life one day at a time Out of the darkness I must climb I can’t live in the pain from the past Please let it be over, don’t let it last I love the warmth from the summer sun So let this time of year be done I like the green grass and flowers in bloom They make me happiest, instead of this gloom So hurry up summer and come back around And I won’t be sad, happiness I’d have found I have a good life and what’s wrong with me When the holidays come, I can’t feel free!
***
«Sad In Blue» by Peter S. Quinn
Sad sad sad in blue For sad sad sad you The moon is all bluish tonight The night is all dark out side Nowhere to run Sad sad sad in blue
Into the night hold me tight Love me babe I need some light What’s wrong and what’s right When shadows dwell and abide
Sad sad sad in blue For sad sad sad you The moon is all bluish tonight Is there some star shoot in sight To wish upon For sad sad sad you
Into the night take a flight Feelings, touch, everything out sight Love me with feelings ok Come come babe now closer stay
Sad sad sad in blue For sad sad sad you The moon is all bluish tonight Is there some star shoot in sight To wish upon For sad sad sad you
***
«Sad Life» by Crystal Shover
I look into her hollow green eyes, as she tries to end her life, oh what a sad little girl, to live such a horrible life,
her memory’s filled with hate, rap ed by her grandpa, for three years straight, before that her brother, had to have a go, passed her around, like a dirty hoe,
now shes cowering in fear, i want to hold her tight, and tell her its ok, everything will be alright, but theres something in my way,
whats that no it cant be, if this is a mirror, then that girl is me, I’m th one with the knife, and the blood by my side, I’m the one ending my life
***
«Sad Sacked» by Laurence Overmire
He was a weird fellow Sat around reading books when he Should have been working Well, at least LOOKING like he was working Not that there’s all that much Work to do really But it’s important to our customers That we always look like we’re working It gives them confidence That they’re dealing with good, honest Americans Not a bunch of idiots who sit around Reading books.
***
«Sad Side» by Roger Bewman
Sad like a dark polluted sea under a rusty bridge and the cloudy foggy sky
Pass some happy throw away the sad smile let go of pain is that possible?
Augmented depression hey, lift this veil and think it over
Sad so wrong sometimes to be when there’s nothing to control you when there is something you make it seem so filthy
More than a little less than a lot is that what you are searchin’ for
Wake up earlier than noon don’t start from the moon cause again you’ll end up alone in the city’s dessert jungle
***
«Sad Songs» by Theresa Ann Moore
Heart wrenching songs of our day Tell of love and its decay Going as high as high can go Emotions then dip down low
Listeners are fixated and identify With the truth of obvious lies Comprehension helps them realize Tuneful feelings are unified
Maybe the absence of happiness Leads the way to mental access… Seeking hushed cells of the mind Leaving troubled pain behind
Can the lyrics offer a solution? Helping rid an injured soul of pollution Hoping for a brighter day tomorrow Listening to songs that drown sorrow
***
«Sad Story» by David Harris
The old house stood in silence, no one lives there anymore. Only memories of the past, fill each empty room. Once you stood so proud, laughter rang out from your walls. Now only cobwebs and decay inherit there. What sad story has lead to your decline?
The lights from your windows, don’t shine there anymore. Only ghosts from the past, live in every room. Ghosts that once brought laughter. That rang out every night, are silent and no more What sad story marks your fall from grace?
Once upon a time, children played outside your door. Now only weeds and brambles, fall across your welcome path. No more the smiling faces, greet everyone at your door. Now that sadness and neglect has fell. What sad story do you have to tell?
Were there newlyweds, with their hopes so high? Did they have their hopes dashed some how, or was it some great tragedy, that within your walls befell? So tragic that it made the silence fall. What made them desert you to neglect? What was the sad story, pray tell?
***
«Sad Times» by Marilyn Lott
Travel is so important to us We take it for granted each day When we want to go somewhere We can find so many different ways
But when a disaster happens We are shocked beyond belief What went wrong we wonder We feel such sadness, such grief
And that is the way when bridges Don’t hold up the way they should We have so many questions We’d turn back the clocks if we could
Oklahoma experienced this disaster So sad it just breaks our hearts And now the same with Minnesota To fix things, where can they start?
We’re so sorry this has happened We pray each day for the lives gone Our heartfelt wishes are bestowed On each woman, child and man!
***
«Sad To Think» by Tracy Rollings
I use to lay in my bed, every night and cry when they, turn out the light.
Had crazy thoughts, in my head of the things, under my bed.
But you put them there and i blame you cruel things you did and i know it’s true.
Came in my room, something over your head scare me to death and i would wet the bed.
You got mad one night and slung me in the floor told me you wasn’t putting up, with me anymore.
You grabbed me, by the throat that night and you held me there, till i lost sight.
Said i couldn’t sleep, in the bed anymore and from that night on, i laid in the floor.
Can’t remember a night, I never made you mad you gave me the worse life a child ever had.
You beat on a kid, made you look tough and your kicks in the back really got rough.
Said you couldn’t see me, because of no light knew where i was, you put me there every night.
Laid there at night and remembered what you said had a thought one night, to come burn your bed.
What a sad thought, for a little child to think of all the stupid things, you did when you drank.
***
«Sad To Witness» by Lawrence S. Pertillar
There for no purpose and rehearsing grief, Just to please the ambitions of one man… Who has gotten us in deep shit, At our expense to satisfy a disturbed ego! Is sad to witness! But then again… It has been sad to witness the fact, That he represents so many like him Who can not accept defeat Without ensuring everyone feels As insecure about failure as he does! No matter what the cost or price to be paid! It’s just a way of life for him and those he represents! Even though what’s kept in movement… Makes no bit of sense!
***
«Sad Worn Face» by Marilyn Lott
It’s sad to see homes in ruins As generations slip away Where once so lovely inside And families planned to stay
Their styles were so gracious Their roofs were pitched so steep Owners loved their homes A lifestyle they planned to keep
And then after years the owners die The money just isn’t there To give the home what it needs To keep up necessary repairs
And so the shingles blow off The hinges rust and break Year after year it deteriorates When there is so much at stake
In some ways they’re still beautiful No matter what takes place We look upon the ruins now And see each sad worn face!
***
«Sad, Dreary And Sombre Views» by Ernestine Northover
The dust that descends over roadside hedges, On walls, fences and along the edges, Comes from the ever moving needs, Of vehicles, racing at tremendous speeds.
Unknown destinations, their one concern, Doesn’t matter that they continually churn And splatter mud, simply everywhere, Once they’ve gone past, they never care.
The dirt on the wayside then settles and dries, Even on some startled and irate magpies, Making really sad, dreary and sombre views, In dull, dismal colours, not nature’s hues.
And only by a heavy abundance of rain, Will it be cleansed, and turn green again.
***
«Sad-Eyed And Soft And Grey» by William Morris
Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn! Across the long grass of the marshy plain Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain, Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn Above the lush blades of the springing corn, Thy thrush within the high elms strives in vain To store up tales of spring for summer’s pain – Vain day, why wert thou from the dark night born?
O many-voiced strange morn, why must thou break With vain desire the softness of my dream Where she and I alone on earth did seem? How hadst thou heart from me that land to take Wherein she wandered softly for my sake And I and she no harm of love might deem?
***
«Silent Tears» by Heather Loughton
A thunderous silence breaks through my thoughts. What was once many great ideas is now a triumph, lost.
Baffling words tumble through my mind. Reflections of darkness hover. A disturbing peacefulness beckons to me, and inside myself, I take cover.
What would it be like to stay there forever? To be lost in all my cares? From the inside, looking out – I cry silent tears.
***
«Simple, Seldom And Sad» by Mervyn Peake
Simple, seldom and sad We are; Alone on the Halibut Hills Afar, With sweet mad Expressions Of old Strangely beautiful So we’re told By the Creatures that Move In the sky And Die On the night when the Dead Trees Prance and Cry.
Sensitive, seldom and sad – Sensitive, seldom and sad –
Simple, seldom and sad Are we When we take our path To the purple sea – With mad, sweet Expressions Of Yore, Strangely beautiful, Yea, and More On the Night of all Nights When the sky Streams by In rags, while the Dead Trees Prance and Cry,
sensitive, seldom and sad – sensitive, seldom and sad.
***
«Sit Down, Sad Soul» by Barry Cornwall
SIT down, sad soul, and count The moments flying: Come,—tell the sweet amount That ’s lost by sighing! How many smiles?—a score? Then laugh, and count no more; For day is dying.
Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, And no more measure The flight of Time, nor weep The loss of leisure; But here, by this lone stream, Lie down with us, and dream Of starry treasure.
We dream: do thou the same: We love—for ever; We laugh; yet few we shame, The gentle, never. Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; Then—hope and happy skies Are thine for ever!
***
«So True So Sad» by Christina Acosta
Do you know what emo truly is, Why you hate them so much, Is it cause they have better hair then you and it looks good on them not you, People show ignorance towards emo’s, Yes some may suffer from depression and cuts on themselves but that don’t mean all emo’s are that way, A true emo don’t care what others say, A true emo will dress however they feel like it, A true emo will listen to whatever music they want. Are you scared that emo’s are taking over your life yet you choose to make fun of them and push them around as if they were nothing to you, They breathe, They talk, They Walk, They make take better pictures then you but don’t be jealous cause they have something you don’t, Its called emotions get used to it, Everyone has there own personality, There own styles, Not all emo’s are scared, Not all emo’s cry themselves to sleep, If you think you know what emo is you better look in the mirror, Cause Emo’s are humans.
***
«Solitude» by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all, There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.
***
«Someday I Will Be Okay» by Britaney L. Adams
This ink, it runs. This paper is stained Tears run free as I’m stuck in a daze. I put this pen to paper, To write the words This voice can’t deliver. My heart is heavy With pain and despair. Can’t breathe. I’m fighting for air. My mind is spinning At the speed of light. This pain in my life Has clouded my mind. The thoughts are deafening Of my life you took away, But after all my Heartache, Someday I’ll be okay!
***
«Sonnet Iii: With How Sad Steps» by Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What! may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case: I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whoom that love doth possess? Do they call ‘virtue’ there – ungratefulness?
***
«Sonnet: Languid, And Sad, And Slow, From Day To Day» by William Lisle Bowles
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue) The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away. So fares it with the children of the earth: For when life’s goodly prospect opens round, Their spirits beat to tread that fairy ground, Where every vale sounds to the pipe of mirth. But them vain hope and easy youth beguiles, And soon a longing look, like me, they cast Back on the pleasing prospect of the past: Yet Fancy points where still far onward smiles Some sunny spot, and her fair colouring blends, Till cheerless on their path the night descends!
***
«Sorrow and Pain» by Lance Hodges
some live life in the fast lane some get stuck with a ball & chain some lives are known, simply by name some get only Sorrow & Pain
some lives are filled with riches some get to live in the ditches some live with their insanity contained some get only Sorrow & Pain
some lives have no riches, some have caviar & wine some get to live a life thats like mine some lives can’t differentiate between that line some get only Sorrow & Pain
some lives are short, yet the memory remains some get anger and keep it retained some live and get justice;the cold & rain some get nothing but Sorrow & Pain
***
«Swan’s Song» by Ruwaida Van Doorsen
Like the last leaf on a windy Autumn day I hang on, fragile but courageously Waiting for the day to come When the wind will stop blowing So that I can be at peace
At peace with myself and everything around me At peace with the world and all that it bears Hanging onto a hope that is based on dreams Hoping that my dream of surviving all adversity Will finally be realized
But alas the wind is too strong And like all other leaves before me I begin to sing , so long
Sad and lost filled with despair No one to comfort me No one to care No one to say, hang in there, be strong So I’ll whisper my good-byes, and sing My swan’s song
***
«Tattered And Sad» by Marilyn Lott
The other day I drove into the country Took time to look all around And while driving I observed a windmill Some of its parts had dropped to the ground
I felt so sad to see this beautiful structure On the last leg of its useful journey Unless someone spent time and money It just couldn’t last for all eternity
I stopped my car and got out and took A few pictures from different directions I would print out a picture to frame To add it to my special windmill collection
It’s the same with so many old structures Old barns and homesteads around Sadness just fills your heart To see them falling in pieces to the ground
But then, nothing lasts forever Even though they are tattered and sad You have to remember their usefulness If you do it doesn’t seem nearly so bad!
***
«Tears Fall in My Heart» by Paul Verlaine
Tears fall in my heart Rain falls on the town; what is this numb hurt that enters my heart?
Ah,the soft sound of rain on roofs, on the ground! To a dulled heart they came, ah, the song of the rain!
Tears without reason in the disheartened heart. What? no trace of treason? This grief’s without reason.
It’s far the worst pain to never know why without love or disdain my heart has such pain!
***
«The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad» by Robert Herrick
Dull to myself, and almost dead to these, My many fresh and fragrant mistresses; Lost to all music now, since every thing Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing. Sick is the land to th’ heart; and doth endure More dangerous faintings by her desperate cure. But if that golden age would come again, And Charles here rule, as he before did reign; If smooth and unperplex’d the seasons were, As when the sweet Maria lived here; I should delight to have my curls half drown’d In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown’d: And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead, Knock at a star with my exalted head.
***
«The Boxes In The Hall» by Adrian Baillie
In every room of our time together there is a box Of memories we shared. Now is the time to pack away With sadness and with care.
The first is a simple smile, Whenever I thought of you. Neatly folded into four, It’s the best that I could do.
Next are all the memories Of the times when we were two, Wrapped with love one by one, Sealed with tears as glue.
And then there are the butterflies I had when you were near, Now in a cage of sadness And locked up with a tear.
Next are the times we kissed, Each one wrapped with a sigh, Placed next to a rolled up list Of all the times I’ve asked myself why.
Now to pack are the pieces of my heart, Gathered in a pile. Each one wrapped up tenderly And placed next to a distant smile.
Finally all the shattered wishes, Placed in softly so no more can break, Covering them over trying not to cry So they would not all ache.
Lastly walking round each room, Closing each and every curtain, Shutting each and every door, Leaving behind each and ever pain.
Gathering up the memories we shared, Making sure I’ve got them all, Packing them softly because I cared, Leaving them in the boxes in the hall
***
«The Chimney-Sweeper» by William Blake
When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry ‘Weep! weep! weep! weep!’ So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, That curled like a lamb’s back, was shaved; so I said, ‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head’s bare, You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
And so he was quiet, and that very night, As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!– That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack, Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
And by came an angel, who had a bright key, And he opened the coffins, and set them all free; Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
Then naked and white, all their bags left behind, They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind; And the angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy, He’d have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark, And got with our bags and our brushes to work. Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm: So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
***
«The Enemies Of My Soul» by Lisa Roberts
Hate is the enemy my heart does not want to surrender to though sometimes my weakness comes out and my tears begin to flow perhaps if the people knew the pain they give one another there would be no broken hearts I wish to obliterate my enemies words that fill your mind with agony breaks down the emotional bliss and replaces it with a broken heart I wish to obliterate my enemies for hate has perished the minds of the lonely I wish to obliterate hate.
***
«The Game» by Susan Christensen
Let me tell you about a game I play Where I close my eyes and fade away
I float away to a special place Beyond the stars and moon and space
In this special place you see There are only two people – just you and me
In this place, all is right Nothing but love, and we never fight
In this place, there is no sadness No cells, no courts, none of that madness
No rules to follow, no laws to break No bars to hold us or separate
No one to tell us we can’t kiss or touch I don’t just tell you “I love you” – I show you how much
But eventually the game must end My eyes must open, and reality sets in
But someday soon – I’m not sure when I will close my eyes and play my game again.
***
«The Lover’s Liturgy» by Jack London
Ah! my brothers, we are mortals, Atoms on Time’s ebb and flow, Soon we pass the dreary portals, Soon to dreamless sleep we go; We are sparkles, evanescent, Doomed to perish in the hour, And our time is in the present, Ours but a moment’s power.
Love, my brothers, is the essence, In the scheme of life and light; Birth and death are fearful lessons – Out of darkness into night, – Thus we flash, a moment’s living, ‘Twixt the silent walls of death, Flashing for a moment, giving Song but for a moment’s breath.
Then that moment do not sadden, Prayers, nor beads, nor aves tell; Then that moment do not madden With mad dreams of heaven or hell; Trust that he who cast you idly, Asked of you nor aye nor nay, Flung you idly, wildly, widely, For his whim will not ask pay.
For a whim of bubble-blowing, Perhaps to while an empty day, For a whim of stubble-sowing, For a game at godlike play, Shall the bubbles in the drifting, Pay the whim of Him who played? Shall the seedlets in the shifting, Of the sifter be afraid?
Shall the playthings of a master, Falling idly from his hand, Meet meritless disaster, Meet with unearned reprimand? Shall the children of fancy, Born a certain race to run, By an absurd necromancy, Penance pay when it is done?
O, my brothers, go not questing For some mystic grail in vain – Why should ye a Master’s jesting, Strive to fathom or make plain? Wake ye from your fevered dreaming, Groping for forbidden toys, All about you life is teeming, Singing of ungarnered joys.
Surely He who somewhere hovers, ‘Yond the reach of mortal ken, Gazing down on love and lovers, Cannot blame the sons of men; Cannot blame his bubbles bursting, Heart to heart and lips to lips; Cannot blame his seedlets thirsting For the dew of honeyed lips.
Then again the golden chalice, Once again a lingering draught; Surely He will bear no malice For the pledge divinely quaffed. Thus, with sweet and fond caresses, Hearts that beat with mutual bliss, He who loves is he who blesses, Sealing heaven with a kiss.
***
«The Masquerade» by Cara_Mell
For all the plans that you made tossed and driven from a passionate soul
The torturous thoughts you had to bear, whose father was never there
Given away by a mother possessed to a man who sold his soul to hell
Was he your real father, genes don’t lie Locked in a cage and never told why
Brain washed and told what calamities to behold Drinking the blood of an innocent soul
Under a project called Paperclip In the dwelling of Canadian park You had six children, were you forced to make them slaves to the darkness?
They used sigils and magic calling it well I truly know they will burn in hell From the bottomless pit smoke will arise Consuming all who believe their lies
You woke up and opened your eyes It was too late, they planned your demise
There is a true God and He will judge what was done to you from a long-standing grudge
They say you hung yourself that day You tossed a rope over the doorway You pulled and pulled till you were dead That’s a joke, for your own will prevailed
Though you’re gone, I still think about you How you suffered when they murdered you
***
«The Memories Will Never Die» by Kristi Maxim
I didn’t imagine this could ever happen to me. My best friend is hurting, And I can’t even see. The pain she must be feeling, While she is lying there. Just the thought of it, I can’t even bear.
It makes me think of all the good times we shared. The times when we were happy, And the times when we were scared. We would walk alone, Along her dark dirt road, Frightened as can be Because of the stories we once told.
The good and bad times have all gone by, And thinking of them Makes me want to sit down and cry. The memories will always last, They can never die. They will go on and on As long as we both try.
***
«The Nails» by W. S. Merwin
I gave you sorrow to hang on your wall Like a calendar in one color. I wear a torn place on my sleeve. It isn’t as simple as that.
Between no place of mine and no place of yours You’d have thought I’d know the way by now Just from thinking it over. Oh I know I’ve no excuse to be stuck here turning Like a mirror on a string, Except it’s hardly credible how It all keeps changing. Loss has a wider choice of directions Than the other thing.
As if I had a system I shuffle among the lies Turning them over, if only I could be sure what I’d lost. I uncover my footprints, I Poke them till the eyes open. They don’t recall what it looked like. When was I using it last? Was it like a ring or a light Or the autumn pond Which chokes and glitters but Grows colder? It could be all in the mind. Anyway Nothing seems to bring it back to me.
And I’ve been to see Your hands as trees borne away on a flood, The same film over and over, And an old one at that, shattering its account To the last of the digits, and nothing And the blank end.
The lightning has shown me the scars of the future.
I’ve had a long look at someone Alone like a key in a lock Without what it takes to turn.
It isn’t as simple as that.
Winter will think back to your lit harvest For which there is no help, and the seed Of eloquence will open its wings When you are gone. But at this moment When the nails are kissing the fingers good-bye And my only Chance is bleeding from me, When my one chance is bleeding, For speaking either truth or comfort I have no more tongue than a wound.
***
«The Sad Bastards Club» by Francesca Johnson
A happy lot, us Sad Bastards. We raise our glasses Kick some asses Laugh, tell rude jokes Give the fire a poke And throw on another log. We talk of locks And untimely clocks And stocks and shares And dual-purpose chairs Play the organ, sing and giggle Until 3 in the morning When mutually yawning We tuck ourselves into bed. A happy lot Us Sad Bastards.
***
«The Sad Day» by Thomas Flatman
O THE sad day! When friends shall shake their heads, and say Of miserable me– ‘Hark, how he groans! Look, how he pants for breath! See how he struggles with the pangs of death!’ When they shall say of these dear eyes– ‘How hollow, O how dim they be! Mark how his breast doth rise and swell Against his potent enemy!’ When some old friend shall step to my bedside, Touch my chill face, and thence shall gently slide.
But–when his next companions say ‘How does he do? What hopes?’–shall turn away, Answering only, with a lift-up hand– ‘Who can his fate withstand?’
Then shall a gasp or two do more Than e’er my rhetoric could before: Persuade the world to trouble me no more!
***
«The Sad Message» by Russell Edson
The Captain becomes moody at sea. He’s afraid of water; such bully amounts that prove the seas. . .
A glass of water is one thing. A man easily downs it, capturing its menace in his bladder; pissing it away. A few drops of rain do little harm, save to remind of how grief looks upon the cheek.
One day the water is willing to bear your ship upon its back like a liquid elephant. The next day the elephant doesn’t want you on its back, and says, I have no more willingness to have you there; get off.
At sea this is a sad message.
The Captain sits in his cabin wearing a parachute, listening to what the sea might say. . .
***
«The Sad Misanthrope» by Francis Duggan
He does not like writers and artists as such Since he feels that they do not contribute much To society that is what he does say He looks at life in a strange sort of a way.
He doesn’t like playing cards or sports or football And socializing he doesn’t like it at all He is not in the cycling club as people he doesn’t like Though he likes to cycle through town on his bike.
He does not have a lover to brighten his life And with his attitude he may never have a wife He never goes to parties new people to meet And he never greets people he meets on the street.
For to dislike others he does not need an excuse And time leaves him more bitter the ageing recluse Yet he is what you see and he is free of guile He never does laugh or he never does smile.
He lives without love and he lives without hope Yet he goes on living the sad misanthrope To any of his neighbours he never says hello And with the passing of time the more bitter he grow.
***
«The Sad Mother» by Gabriela Mistral
Sleep, sleep, my beloved, without worry, without fear, although my soul does not sleep, although I do not rest.
Sleep, sleep, and in the night may your whispers be softer than a leaf of grass, or the silken fleece of lambs.
May my flesh slumber in you, my worry, my trembling. In you, may my eyes close and my heart sleep.
***
«The Sad Shepherd» by William Butler Yeats
THERE was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend, And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming, Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming And humming Sands, where windy surges wend: And he called loudly to the stars to bend From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they Among themselves laugh on and sing alway: And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story.! The sea Swept on and cried her old cry still, Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill. He fled the persecution of her glory And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping, Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening. But naught they heard, for they are always listening, The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping. And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend Sought once again the shore, and found a shell, And thought, I will my heavy story tell Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart; And my own talc again for me shall sing, And my own whispering words be comforting, And lo! my ancient burden may depart. Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim; But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.
***
«The Sad Shepherd’s Passion Of Love» by George Peele
O Gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed, Thou makest my heart A bloody mark With piercing shot to bleed. Shoot soft, sweet Love, for fear thou shoot amiss, For fear too keen Thy arrows been, And hist the heart where my beloved is. Too fair that fortune were, nor never I Shall be so blest, Among the rest, That Love shall seize on her by sympathy. Then since with Love my prayers bear no boot, This doth remain To cease my pain, I take the wound, and die at Venus’ foot.
***
«This Old Picture Book» by Katey Shines
I look at all these memories, and I start to cry. I see things, I see people, I can’t ever see again. I see people who I have mistreated, and can’t make up for doing. I feel these memories are killing me. I see so much I took for granted, and I cry.
I could never feel those feelings again, I could never be there again. I see things that hurt me, because I can’t remember them. I see myself as I was: cruel, stone cold. I never told anyone how I felt. I regret that now.
I see how brave I was at times, and how I backed down. I see how care-free I was. I see now what has consumed my life. . .greed. So, now I look at all these memories and I start to cry. These memories are killing me, So now old picture book, good bye.
***
«Till Light Breaks» by Terry Bernard
I’ve never seen a night so long or so quiet A cold wind whispers her name through the pines While night clouds race across a starless sky sublime If God made the day, then the devil made this night
Tonight my memories are chasing her in my mind And what havoc they wreak in their desperate plight To catch her, hold her, only to find, She has vanished, slipped away into the everlasting night
Still I don’t know what I did wrong, What I should have said, should have done I would never have guessed I could hurt so long But then I never expected her to be gone
I walk to the window and peer into the endless night The clouds and the wind are gone now, there’s only the moon And tall, dark trees jutting up toward the ebony sky A night bird calls out and my heart is filled with gloom
I never knew love until I knew you, love Now all is gone, another’s arms hold you Another’s lips sets your heart on fire, love And someone else hears you whisper ‘I love you’
I’m afraid this night will outlast the bottle of wine Then what will I do, while I wait on the light Of the sun breaking o’er the tall pines in the morning sky To give me reprieve till the next eternal night.
***
«Time to Say Goodbye» by Joanna Fuchs
My heart is breaking in me; It’s still you whom I adore; My tears are overflowing: You don’t love me anymore.
I sleepwalk through each day; I pray to heaven above, Hoping you’ll change your mind, But I know I’ve lost your love.
I wish that things were different; I wish it were the way it was, But reality has no pity; It just happens the way it does.
Will I ever feel any better, With days when I don’t cry? No matter what, it’s time to say Goodbye, my love, goodbye.
***
«To A Sad Girl» by Uriah Hamilton
There is no way to explain Unending sorrow and grief, No way to kiss a young girl’s cheek In a way that would give her back The joy death has stolen.
Humans are brave enough To live and bleed and die, But to be the one remaining As others say goodbye Is too much to withstand.
There are evil stars that smirk And thus mark us for treacherous fates, The days all burn like desert fields Until there is nothing left to love And nothing left to feel.
***
«To The Sad Moon» by Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What! May it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case: I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call ‘virtue’ there— ungratefulness?
***
«Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines» by Pablo Neruda
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Anothers. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before. Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these are the last verses that I write for her.
***
«Tulips» by Sylvia Plath
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in. I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions. I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut. Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in. The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble, They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps, Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another, So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently. They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep. Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage—— My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat stubbornly hanging on to my name and address. They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations. Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head. I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free—— The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me. Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby. Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds. They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down, Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color, A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched. The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins, And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips, And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself. The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough, Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss. Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise. Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine. They concentrate my attention, that was happy Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves. The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea, And comes from a country far away as health.
***
«Unconditionally Painful In Love» by Jasmine S. Johnson
This pain is taking its toll, But my love it never gets old. The trials and defeated emotions Keeping me sane with magical potions. The heart that keeps my blood flowing, That pain that keeps me down but going. If the pain leaves and love stays, How would life be for me? Would I have a hole in my heart Where hurt and pain used to be? Is there a way out of this Loving, painful misery? Is there a way into this Love that I have failed or neglected to receive? Is this love? Unconditionally loving you is Bringing me pain, But it keeps me sane because I have you. Am I kidding myself? Am I in denial that you love me back? Am I just a dream away from reality? Am I making believe that I love you? I think not… But pain keeps me going. My heart keeps my blood flowing. You keep my life glowing. Jesus keeps me believing. My calmness is showing, But my happiness is hiding From pain and love. I unconditionally, painfully love you.
***
«Walking Away» by Vanessa Brown
I’m tired of dreaming. I’m through with trying. Tired of living, yet scared of dying. Maybe things are good for you, but look at all that I’ve been through. Look at all the pain I’ve won. I bet you think that it’s been fun. You never thought I’d turn away. You never believed you’d see this day. Look again because here I go, leaving behind all I know. Changing it all as I must do. Not daring to stop and think things through. Wanting to run as fast as I can, not stopping until I understand. Like why did I let things get this way? Why didn’t I leave yesterday? How are things going to be since there is no more you and me?
***
«We Wear The Mask» by Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries To thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but oh the clay is vile Beneath our feet, and long the mile; But let the world dream otherwise, We wear the mask!
***
«What I Miss» by Thalia Jones
I miss how we used to be, So vibrant, so honest, so wild and free.
I miss the way you would understand, Listen carefully and be there when I needed a hand.
I miss our long, random talks at night, Our private conversations, Our silly little fights.
I miss the way you could read my mind, Know what to say, When words were hard to find.
I miss the way you could brighten my day, Make me forget the mistakes, Make the pain go away.
I miss how you made me laugh, Hate how you made me cry,
Loved how you said you would always be there, But once again, I forgot that everything you say is a lie.
***
«When I Have Fears» by John Keats
When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-pilèd books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starred face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love—then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
***
«When Is It Time?» by Kit McCallum
When is it time to say goodbye, To all the love I’ve known, When is it time to end your pain, And leave me all alone?
I’ve watched you on your good days when I feel your strength renewed; But shortly after little ups, The down days then ensue.
We ride this roller-coaster of Emotions as we try, To make it through another day, And yet, I can’t deny …
That as I look into your face On days that have been bad, I see a look that beckons me It’s tired, and hurt, and sad.
The little spark I used to see Behind those loving eyes, Is growing ever clouded By life’s cruel inhumane side.
I try to see beyond the pain You feel with every step; And softly whisper to myself This may get better yet.
If I can bear to watch you Just another day or two; I justify my reasons to Ensure I cling to you.
For letting go is harder for The person left behind; It means that if I let you go, I cannot turn back time.
Back to the days I long for now, When you were full of life; And every day held promise, And our futures, clear and bright.
But now the lights are darkening … We take it daily now; I cannot see our futures clear Or think beyond this cloud.
I think the hardest part in this Is never knowing why, I have to be courageous And I have to say goodbye.
For if I let myself admit It’s time to let you go; I’d have to face reality Without you … but I know …
That soon I have to face the Final outcome that I dread, And holding on will only serve To hurt you in the end.
You’ve given such unselfish love For all our time in life, But if I hold too tightly, You’ll not move t’ward the light …
On to a better life, where you Can once again be free, Of all the pain and discomfort That holds you here to me.
So if I find the courage just to say This last farewell, I hope you will forgive me for The time it took me; still …
I’ll hold with me, the memories That in my heart remain, Pray one day, down the road a’ways … They’ll lesson my own pain.
***
«Where Do I Go» by Lisa Grifin
Where do I go When I’m feeling so lost and I don’t want to be found? When I’m looking and listening for that peace in my heart. But I know I’ll never hear that sound. Where do I go? Where do I go when I’m trying to laugh but all I can do I cry? I’m trying to keep on living because I’m not ready to die. Where do I go because the sun never seems to shine? Can you give me my life back’ it’s not yours, it’s mine? How do I keep going, how do I fight this fight? I’m tired of feeling beat down, but I’m trying with all my might! Where do I go when my head hangs so low? Please give me an answer because I just don’t know! Where do I go? Does it take very long For me to find that peace and a place where I belong? I need you to help me, help me to take a stand. I’m scared to do it by myself; will you please take my hand? Where do I go? Where do I go? Where do I go? Do you know?
***
«Why Do I?» by Liza Marie
Why do I smile at the sound of your voice? Why do I let you take over me as if I had no choice? Why do I let you touch me in places never touched? Why do I like to have you around so much?
Why do I melt at the tenderness of your kiss? Why do I feel like I could live forever like this? Why do I put my heart in your hands? Why do I answer to your every demand?
Why do I tell you leaving me is not your wrong? Why do I let you know with out you I’m not quite as strong? Why do I take you back even though I know it’s not right? Why do I feel like I should please you by not putting up a fight?
Why do I care about you even though you hurt me? Why do I turn my head from what’s plain reality? Why do I try to hide from what is true? Why do I still have these feelings for you?
***
«Why Is Mommy Crying» by Steven Solis
I watch as mommy cries sitting there all alone When she falls asleep she cuddles to the phone I ask why all the tears, why all the sorrow I then hug her, tell her dad will be back tomorrow I must say something wrong, she cries even more Everything I say I make the tears pour Maybe I don’t hug her enough, maybe love I lack Maybe she’s right – daddy is never coming back
***
«Winter Among the Spirits» by Chris Yandle
Whispering beneath the frozen branches of a depressed and subtle wonder, lies a simple explanation for all our questions, for all our problems.
Spirits of old, spirits of new, masquerade around in heavenly forms without a sound, without a mention of an earthly movement.
Discover what can be captured by one quick glance proven to be remarkable, proven to be a creation of the Father.
A sudden warmth overcomes you; a disruptive consequence for beholding its glory, beholding the glory of a beautiful collage of nature and wintry occasions.
Hidden between your imagination afar, an impressing affliction that causes something more than pain, something that you can’t describe.
***
«Winter Stars» by Sara Teasdale
I went out at night alone; The young blood flowing beyond the sea Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings— I bore my sorrow heavily.
But when I lifted up my head From shadows shaken on the snow, I saw Orion in the east Burn steadily as long ago.
From windows in my father’s house, Dreaming my dreams on winter nights, I watched Orion as a girl Above another city’s lights.
Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars, All things are changed, save in the east The faithful beauty of the stars.
***
«Writing Sad Things For Sweet Men» by Lauren Michaels
I’d think it a sign from the gods I think If I were a little bit less of a cynic. Tonight something broke in the back of my mind And in the noise of the shower I cried and
Wailed I suppose. I think I’m a little bit lost.
I fell to my knees, its cliched but its true. It felt like hours before I stood up. Sitting thinking, the water long cold. Of tomorrow and tomorrow and
Quailed I suppose. I think I’m a little bit lost.
And treatise after treatise came filtering by balancing all in mind and in time I wondered where my buoyancy was But that ships long
Sailed I suppose I think I’m a little bit lost.
Funny you should mention Bright eyes Funny that tonight I begged for help From my condensation white tile ceiling. And sat down to find a poem waiting.
I once promised a gentleman I’d write him a poem But he beat me to it twice over (several times over if truth be known, I don’t think he knows What he Gives)
***
«You are who you are for a reason» by Russell Kelfer
You are who you are for a reason. You’re part of an intricate plan. You’re a precious and perfect unique design, Called God’s special woman or man.
You look like you look for a reason. Our God made no mistake. He knit you together within the womb, You’re just what he wanted to make.
The parents you had were the ones he chose, And no matter how you may feel, They were custom designed with God’s plan in mind, And they bear the Master’s seal.
No, that trauma you faced was not easy. And God wept that it hurt you so; But it was allowed to shape your heart So that into his likeness you’d grow.
You are who you are for a reason, You’ve been formed by the Master’s rod. You are who you are, beloved, Because there is a God!
***
«You May Feel Sad For Yourself» by Francis Duggan
You may feel sad for yourself though you have a roof over your head And you do not lack comfort in your comfortable bed And you don’t lack for nourishment with lots of good food to eat You are not one of the millions who are homeless on the street Of the poorest street of the poor suburb those who struggle to survive And only their desire for life seems to keep them alive They sleep in disused factories infested by rodents and fleas Places not fit for homeless dogs to live in and breeding grounds for disease Or on concrete park benches or by the parkland trees Without shelter from the elements the rain and the cold breeze You may feel depressed and lonely from the World you’d like to hide And though you may feel down at present with lady luck not on your side Compared to millions you are lucky you are not homeless on the street And you’ve got a nice home to live in and more than enough to drink and eat.
***
«You Were My Everything» by Joanna Fuchs
You were my everything; Now you’re gone. I don’t have the strength To carry on.
Skies always seemed sunny When you were here; Now there’s nothing but gloom In my atmosphere.
I loved you so much; You were all I had; Now my whole world Is depressing and sad.
I’d like to start feeling Other than blue, But you were my everything, What can I do?
***
«Your Heart Is So Sad» by Jolanta Gradowicz
Your heart is so painful and sad, You can’t find any consolation, Things seem to be hopeless and bad, Everything you need is isolation…
But your soul likes the sweet silence When it leaves all the joys of the world. Your tired thoughts try to find balance, The air still remains undisturbed…
You are grateful for the blessed moment And despise everything except the holy peace. Your sad heart is serene and patient, Your soul fills with God’s grace and bliss…
