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The Best Gift Ever

Christmas trees and Christmas bells
Christmas lights and all the frills.
Smiles on all the children’s faces
Special foods and yuletide graces.
Eyes aglow with anxious wonder
Of what precious presents are waiting under
The Christmas tree that smells so spicy
Where popcorn and taffy are hung so nicely.

An angel shines above the tree
To light the way for all to see
That now God’s promise is fulfilled
And in a manger lies on a Bethlehem hill.
A newborn babe on a bed of hay
Will soon take all our sins away.
What greater gift could ever there be
For us, under God’s own Christmas tree?

Moms and Dads from all around
Awaken to that gleeful sound

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poem by George Wootton
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Life and Death?

O'death does bring the saddened passion
to eyes that cry with grief's great pain.
Pain does steal in eager fashion ~
for life that never breathes again.

And yet for every life that's passing
onto the heaven's golden shore ~
another soul is earthly borning,
passing safely through life's door.

O'life does bring the gleeful passion
to eyes that shine with life's great gain.
Gain that glows in eager fashion
from life that breathes time and again.

And yet for life or deathly passion
onto the sand of timely shore,
another soul is sharply keening ~
to live or die forevermore.

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poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Heart's Elation

Time means naught, it is but a harbinger of the inevitable;
Space means little too, though it limits time together, available!
My amorous wonderment is for a beauteous lady, not a spectre-
She is my muse, my soul's solitary compeer and my heart's protector!

This was once but a dream, yet now is a magnificent reality-
My heart its vessel, yet it pervades through all forms of modality!
It could only ever have been now, it only ever have been her,
I see, where she can not, all the outward beauty, and that within her!

Listen to what you know is truth, be not afraid for its fleeting;
Forever more, please know, our heart's elation bided for our meeting!
We are not like anything either has ever experienced,
We are a pairing as yet wholly unaudienced-
The Heavens shine upon us, with a gleeful pride,
Asking that we use but our heart's elation as our guide!

Maurice Harris,18 April 2010

poem by Maurice Harris
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A Secret...

I have a secret,
Can you keep it?
I caught a fairy!

Her wings were dusted with glittered dreams,
Her eyes glimmered crystal blue,
Her face glistening like morning dew,
Hair like nothing I’d never seen

Flowing down past her knees,
Softly swaying in the gentle breeze,
A toasted gold colour, Dorothy’s shoes,
I was fixated, helplessly amused.

The shine of her golden skin,
As intense as the beaming sun,
So crisp and bronze like toasted wishes,
It could not seize to stun.

I stood in awe,

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poem by Justine is my name
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City Of Ships

CITY of ships!
(O the black ships! O the fierce ships!
O the beautiful, sharp-bow'd steam-ships and sail-ships!)
City of the world! (for all races are here;
All the lands of the earth make contributions here;)
City of the sea! city of hurried and glittering tides!
City whose gleeful tides continually rush or recede, whirling in and
out, with eddies and foam!
City of wharves and stores! city of tall façades of marble and iron!
Proud and passionate city! mettlesome, mad, extravagant city!
Spring up, O city! not for peace alone, but be indeed yourself,
warlike! 10
Fear not! submit to no models but your own, O city!
Behold me! incarnate me, as I have incarnated you!
I have rejected nothing you offer'd me--whom you adopted, I have
adopted;
Good or bad, I never question you--I love all--I do not condemn
anything;
I chant and celebrate all that is yours--yet peace no more;
In peace I chanted peace, but now the drum of war is mine;

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poem by Walt Whitman
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That Adorable Evening

It was a gleeful evening,
Weather was screwling and screwling
On us. Gives a Thunder feeling,
Such that phosphorus is reacting.
Wind was blowing gently,
Giving Noiseless noise to the leaves fantastically
Envy by seeing enthusiam of sky and earth,
Direct giving his message full of oaths.
Speed of rain was increasing gingerly,
Sparkle feelings was rising heavenly.
Cloud was Thundering so hard,
Seems roared like a 'pard.
Lightning lightens with a blue light,
Giving luminous feeling in the night.
Clutching hand of her, I serenaded a ballad,
Just become statue also 'pard.
Feelings was so slim,
Even Love of Sky and Mountain become dim;
Theme was so gentle,
Even sea become sentimental.

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poem by Indrajeet Mishra
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Hold not thy laughter

Hold not thy laughter
For that joyful sound
I am forever after, seeking when you are around
Waiting for it to chortle, in the background

Hold not thy laughter
As it fights to escapes thy lips
To send me on joyful trips

Your giggles and cackles
Harmlessly tend to baffle
Your happy facial expressions
Paint only a gleeful picture of inspiration
As we rejoice to thy jubilant noises in full attention

Hold not thy laughter from the heart
Hold not thy laughter until we part
Hold not thy laughter as we make a start

When I dispel in my gloom

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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Junior God

The Junior God looked from his place
In the conning towers of heaven,
And he saw the world through the span of space
Like a giant golf-ball driven.
And because he was bored, as some gods are,
With high celestial mirth,
He clutched the reins of a shooting star,
And he steered it down to earth.

The Junior God, 'mid leaf and bud,
Passed on with a weary air,
Till lo! he came to a pool of mud,
And some hogs were rolling there.
Then in he plunged with gleeful cries,
And down he lay supine;
For they had no mud in paradise,
And they likewise had no swine.

The Junior God forgot himself;
He squelched mud through his toes;

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poem by Robert William Service
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Why Should I Believe In Christmas?

Why should I believe in Christmas?
When in all my 30 years upon this God forsaken earth
I've never had even one
One present
One brightly shining tree
Nothing
Nothing at all

Why should I believe in Christmas?
When I'm not even sure there's a God
Much less a Santa Claus
Maybe that story of a baby's virgin birth was just fiction
Plain and simple
Nothing more then an old wive's tale
Spun to keep us all happy and in place
For at least one day out of the year otherwise so very depressing

Why should I believe in Christmas?
When this bottle is my only friend
This needle my only high

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poem by Ramona Thompson
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The Rovers

Over the fields we go, through the sweets of the purple clover,
That letters a message for us as for every vagrant rover;
Before us the dells are abloom, and a leaping brook calls after,
Feeling its kinship with us in lore of dreams and laughter.

Out of the valleys of moonlight elfin voices are calling;
Down from the misty hills faint, far greetings are falling;
Whisper the grasses to us, murmuring gleeful and airy,
Knowing us pixy-led, seeking the haunts of faery.

The wind is our joyful comrade wherever our free feet wander,
Over the tawny wolds to the meres and meadows yonder;
The mild-eyed stars go with us, or the rain so swiftly flying,
Racing us over the wastes where the hemlocks and pines are sighing.

Across the upland dim, down through the beckoning hollow­
Oh, we go too far and fast for the feet of care to follow!
The gypsy fire in our hearts for the wilderness wide and luring;
Other loves may fail but this is great and enduring.

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poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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