December Poetry Challenge - All I got for Christmas was this stinking --

[Maria2394]

julie's memory montage

You weren't so easy, easy bake oven
Sissy broke a light bulb
miniature muffins were mush
half-baked blueberry, all three dozen

Fancy wooden majorette
baton a painted stick
she couldn't sing, she couldn't dance
Bubba stole her underpants

Bubba got a wagon
it was red and bright
sitting near the Christmas tree
she looked at it all night

Christmas morning, family swarming
no one noticed Julie
sitting alone, with her toy phone
enduring the madness was grueling

For years she held onto the bitter,
made those memories last
she finally let go of those baggy Levi's
her worst Christmas ever has finally passed





thank you Carrie,
for helping me see the beauty again

 

[EriAliSaa]

It was brought, broke, broken

Holiday styles,
holiday smile,
not breaking apart the gloom.

Sitting alone,
starting to file,
the room silent as a tomb.

Pulling my tears,
of my agony and fear,
that Christmas debt it did loom.

Oh how can it be,
when feeling so weak,
praying relief be here soon.


How I do file,
wishing to smile,
at this time of festive cheer.

I look at their faces,
my wonders of wonder,
their bliss I do hope to mirror.

These angelic gift from above,
filled with innocences and love,
warming my heart from its chill.

My mouth wide a gasp,
I feel at last,
the spirit I'm supposed to feel.

I look at bills,
into my mourning heart that ills,
counting my blessings that are real.

It started so broken,
brought into the open,
in the light of love it can heal.


---------

P.S. Sorry to be such a XMas downer, just dealing with a lot of things right now. I am finding peace in comfort in my kids, family, and friends though. I just hate really lean times, especially around special times of year.

P.P.S. Sorry about the edits I wrote it in the reply on the spur of the moment so I didn't edit much and I think this rewrite is better.

 

[Liar]

When me was wee me wished upon a bright and shiny star
for Father Yule to not be cruel, and bring from pole afar:
A hopscotch road, a talking toad, a parrot in a cage,
a fire hose and young man clothes befitting for me age,

a mini train, an aeroplane, a space ship full of fuel,
a private moon, a big balloon and three years' leave from school.
When me was wee, but wee plus one, me wished again on stars,
to find a rake and shove it up that cheap-ass Santa's arse.

 

[ShyErraticTable]

Overwound, A Christmas Sonnet

I don't remember what. I threw a fit
over something practical, a handkerchief,
perhaps. I screamed and cried. Was sent to bed
still angry, whining. I'm sure I bled

frustration onto the sheets my mother laid
on my narrow boyhood bed. I was made
to apologize to her I did offend—
my grandmother. I was but ten

or so. There's no excuse for that, and so
I, of course, was properly contrite, though
(I was just ten) still quite unhappy
as was Gram, I'm sure, her dentures snapping

at her daughter's wild and ungrateful boy
for whom Christmas simply meant more toys.

 

[champagne1982]

All I wanted the year that I was ten,
was to believe in Santa once again;
to trust that soon he'd be down the chimney
with a sack of joy that he would give me.

My heart's one desire tucked deep inside
would it be a red bike for me to ride?
Santa knew how I wanted a puppy
instead of my fish, Ma and Pa Guppy.

It would have to be great 'cause I'd been good
I'd kept my room neat like I'd promised I would;
but now, how to impress my Dad and Mom?
Oh how I wished it was Saint Nick who'd come!

I plotted and planned and decided a scheme,
I'd be certain to satisfy my Puppy Dream.
Next time when asked by my father and mother,
I'd say that I want a sweet little brother!

 

[champagne1982]

All of you are wonderful and your poems capture that yearning for the unachievable perfection that I'd anticipated. These are beautiful and sweetly humourous illustrations of the disappointment and anti-climax we all seem to find waiting under the tree. Thanks to the participants thus far.

ShyErraticTable - The first Christmas presents given were actually birthday gifts, so maybe the wisemen kept that pungent incense, bittersweet perfume and golden hair of experience safe until your natal day. And then, in a burst of creative energy we get a sonnet about a child's worst fear - an obligation to Granny to say thanks for a gift we're not in the least thankful for. But I'm sincere in my thanks for your sharing of these poems.

MET - Thank heaven for minty moms and toothless kids and thanks to you for your poem.

Unbridled_Passion - As I wrote to Maria's inner 12 year old, it's not the worth of what you wear on your ass but the worth of the asses around you. You get to decide what value to attach to them. Revenge is sweet though.

FifthFlower - What a loving story! I'm so glad the teddy bear got through the glitz. Thanks for giving us our stuffed bear.

The_Fool - Don't make me send scotch! I'm thinking you a hug though. Thankyou for your poem.

vampiredust - By the time the day is through, is it any wonder we are glad to see the backs of our relatives?

lobomao - The perfect quatrain! You capture that disappointment so perfectly in a short twenty word stanza. Thankyou.

Maria# - I'm sure the poem wasn't so easy as the Easy Bake Oven either (or as those baggy corduroy Levis were to step out of, I'll bet.) Thanks for your poemy gift.

EriAliSaa - Thankyou for the present of your poem. It's a shame that our society puts such unfair stresses on people during a seasonal celebration that once was about the victory of light over darkness and all of those metaphorical associations we attach to the ancient battle.

My Christmas wish, that never seems to be fulfilled, is that people will remember that it's not about the presents under the tree but about the gift of our planet's assured resurrection out of winter's death. Thankyou all again for the sharing of your poems and your gentle good humour.

 

[The_Fool]

Clearing throat and tapping on the desk. Peering in Ange's general direction....

 

[Angeline]

Clearing throat and tapping on the desk. Peering in Ange's general direction....

I have a horrible work schedule till Thursday. I'm cogitating on the poem...and I feel you breathing down my neck.

 

[EriAliSaa]

I have a horrible work schedule till Thursday. I'm cogitating on the poem...and I feel you breathing down my neck.

Wow he is really close huh?

Is being far to literal

 

[HotKittySpank]

even as i dragged in the door
clutching my small suitcase in white knuckles
i saw it waiting in the corner she always used,
couldn’t miss it.
i had been warned by phone she already got it
without my help.
why she chose my weekend with Dad to get it
i could never forgive,
but she did.
and i shriveled into the rocking chair to stare
in disbelief.
there was never a sorrier site
than a tree with almost no limbs,
the white of the wall clearly visible behind it,
through it,
as if it may well not have even been there.
but i couldn’t dismiss her round of the corner
come from the kitchen smiling with her coup
of having been given a ratty twig for free.
well, what do you think?
she was so bright on the bleak
and i burst into tears from a hard end of year.
but, it was free!
you didn’t see Charlie Brown cry, did he?
so she took my hands to the tree.
as one of her own rolled down her cheek
she handed me ornaments
until the cat curled around it in recognition,
climbed up into its branches making it bend
as we filled it to overflowing
and i felt stupid and foolish, a spoiled brat.
and we laughed through our tradition,
a little family huddled to the faintest green
chistmas tree you might ever see.
and i realized truth; a tree is a tree is a tree.



...

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Clearing throat and tapping on the desk. Peering in Ange's general direction....

...breathing down Foolio's neck behind him in the line and smiling
encouragingly at Ange.

I honestly never did get a disappointing Christmas gift - unless you count that lapiz blue ceramic hanging lampshade. Wait - maybe there's a poem there.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

He never could quite get it
right, the lovely cashmere sweater
two sizes too small,
the perfect earrings for pierced ears
my solid lobes wept for.
Then there were the novelty gifts
with the novel-ness worn out,
a Chia pet, a Macarena CD, the Teflon wok.
His love for me shone
as he watched me remove
swathes of wrap and mine
for him as I gushed – I hoped
just the right amount.

I tried for originality this year
he says ominously
and the strange object I open
baffles even me.
It appears to be a ceramic colander,
shiny Lapis blue inside and out
with a chain at the base.
One of a kind he says proudly,
my puzzled look replacing the usual gush
A hanging lamp! He sighs
The stupid is silent

 

[Tzara]

Doggerel for my mournfully uptight Christmas

My Quickie Poem for Julie's New Av, Posted Near Christmastime:
Poem After Kilmer, Formed on the Sad Theme of Disappointment

I think that I shall never see
a thing that's quite so loverly
as Julie, naked, up a tree.
Damn, out of focus! Such for glee.

SC trees, trim Julie skin
are making me a man again.
Can I transplant them to WA?
Make them something I can saw?

This doggerel is SOS.
Sweet Julie is its manifest.
I want that Carolina pine
with that sweet fruit to pluck in time.

Alas! I am the wrong coast.
Julie's naked. I have toast.
It's breakfast here. I'm lachrymose.
This ending doesn't rhyme, I hope?

 

[RhymeFairy]

Money was always short.
Mom rasing us
with no child support.

I ask real nice,
dimples firmly in place.
A watch please, thank you
with a strawberry shortcake face.

Hunting like a coon in heat,
the holiday crowds
she was determined
to beat.

A golden gift arrived
early christmas morn.
Excitement filled the air
knowing lil red,
I would soon adorn.

Shiny red band with lil latches
that would flake. Was too much
for this lil tike to take.

 

[average gina]

I was in the hood and thought I'd stop by. Y'all know how I am a sucker for challenges...

It was many eves ago when I first saw those eyes
trusting, willing, inquisitive blue skies
once bright and glistening, now clear as fresh tears
she’d refused to believe, couldn’t hide her tears

“He’s real! He’s real! I know it for sure!
I know he’s as real as the snow is pure!”
Some idiotic parent told their kids the truth
and now I’m dealing with dreams gone poof.

“Honey, Santa’s real. You’re the one who’s right,
but only by faith, not by touch, not by sight.
He’s real in the snowflakes, he’s real in the stars.
But most of all, honey, he’s real in our hearts.”

I could bear no more as I saw a trail appear
upon that cherubic cheek from one single tear.
Her eyebrows furrowed when she said, “Aw, shucks.
How else will my lil’ brother get those Tonka trucks?”

 

[Angeline]

Carrie, I tweaked on your requirement just a bit, so feel free to chastise all you want. Just know that I am not listening....much.


Ange, you and I are going to have a serious discussion one of these days....

PS....I broke the rules on the last couplet. So sue me.


A Child’s Lament for Ghosts of Christmas Past


The winter’s blanket white and pure
Spreads comfort onto the blessed night.
A scent of pine inside adds its allure
To tinsel, garland, strings of twinkling lights.

There is a special magic in the air.
The scene is perfect for this time of cheer
And all the people show how much they care,
A Yuletide blessing ends another year.

An iridescent glaze upon the pane.
That yields to the slow scratching of my nail.
A sense this year that things just aren’t the same,
My thoughts of Christmas cheer have seemed to fail.

As innocence has slowly drifted by
I cannot find the joy, no matter how I try.

I'm sure you know that Jews don't celebrate
the Yuletide rag. My tribe has eight big nights
of prayer, the gift of candles, song, the fate
of generations who've eschewed the lights
and tinsel, carols--we had none of these
(nor Chanukah: in truth our faith was lost
sometime in 1960). I watched trees
aglow in other houses for the cost
of our assimilation was the joy
of our belonging anywhere, and yes
on Christmas morning I would find the toy
I wanted most, but if a god could bless
my youth with more than noel eggrolls, dare
I say I might have prayed only to share.

 

[average gina]

I'm sure you know that Jews don't celebrate
the Yuletide rag. My tribe has eight big nights
of prayer, the gift of candles, song, the fate
of generations who've eschewed the lights
and tinsel, carols--we had none of these
(nor Chanukah: in truth our faith was lost
sometime in 1960). I watched trees
aglow in other houses for the cost
of our assimilation was the joy
of our belonging anywhere, and yes
on Christmas morning I would find the toy
I wanted most, but if a god could bless
my youth with more than noel eggrolls, dare
I say I might have prayed only to share.

... brought me to tears, that was so beautifully melancholy.

 

[The_Fool]

I'm sure you know that Jews don't celebrate
the Yuletide rag. My tribe has eight big nights
of prayer, the gift of candles, song, the fate
of generations who've eschewed the lights
and tinsel, carols--we had none of these
(nor Chanukah: in truth our faith was lost
sometime in 1960). I watched trees
aglow in other houses for the cost
of our assimilation was the joy
of our belonging anywhere, and yes
on Christmas morning I would find the toy
I wanted most, but if a god could bless
my youth with more than noel eggrolls, dare
I say I might have prayed only to share.

What is left but the joy of giving joy. Sharing a smile with another. Wishing a secret (or not so secret) wish for that other person to know a little happiness. The sad thing is we need a special day to want those wishes.

Blowing kisses and floating hugs in your general direction...

 

[JUDO]

So theoretically it could be a sonnet--as long as you don't argue with a couplet at the end. If it's a sonnet Fooly will want to participate.

No, Ange, not a sonnet -- four QUA-trains.

do-dah do-dah do-dah do-dah

Very much a song form, especially with the aabb, etc.

Hiya. Long time.
- Judo

 

[JUDO]

A Chistmas Psalm
by Judo

Alone, afraid --one fated eve
I watched the night begin to grieve
As droves of pilgrims crawled to stay
I wished... I wanted to fly away.

My money's gone and gas was low.
A quest I'd tried but failed to know,
Just where I'd stay or when arrive
Or if I'd feel like one alive.

No tree. No gifts. No friends or loves.
No phones. No cards. No morning doves.
On hours of hours my drive for home
Was over and cold, none left to roam.

In bed I slept or so I thought.
I dreamed of things I might have bought,
And friends too far to see or hear.
I woke, still tired, and wandered in fear.

The house, too still, devoid, asleep
I crouched down low and felt so deep,
Christ's Day had come and this I cried,
"This I'll recall until I've died."

The tears came then and washed my soul.
I'd made a mistake and reached that goal.
A lesson learned, I will not part --
A Christmas Psalm had scratched my heart.


-------
Merry Christmas, everyone!

 

[HotKittySpank]

When me was wee me wished upon a bright and shiny star
for Father Yule to not be cruel, and bring from pole afar:
A hopscotch road, a talking toad, a parrot in a cage,
a fire hose and young man clothes befitting for me age,

a mini train, an aeroplane, a space ship full of fuel,
a private moon, a big balloon and three years' leave from school.
When me was wee, but wee plus one, me wished again on stars,
to find a rake and shove it up that cheap-ass Santa's arse.

i liked this, particularly the use of 'wee' with me and the spelling of aeroplane which makes me want to pronounce it differently than i usually do, adds to the kiddie quality. - nice touches.

did not like the last line. kids may feel this way but rarely speak it - could you find another way to convey the feeling? i don't know... it made me laugh all the same. very fun poem : ) hugs.

...

 

[champagne1982]

Well I'm so glad we've had such a high level of participation in this challenge. You've gifted us with some beautiful poems everyone and I couldn't ask for anything better.

Liar - Such a sweet poem from the tiniest one's point of view . It's not just the big kids who are confused and wanting impossible dreams. Thankyou.

HotKittySpank - This is such a poignant memory of how tough it is to grow into acceptance out of perceived disappointments. Without love to fill its branches, a tree is a tree is a tree. Thankyou.

T2 - I wish we all could know exactly wtf is in Santa's head when he puts some of those packages under the tree. Stupid indeed. I love your poetry.

T-zed - It's not about disappointment at all is it? Well, maybe it is. You wanna be a tree, don't you?

RF - This poem illustrates your skill development of the past year. The rhyme and rhythm inside each strophe are sophisticated and shows how even an uneven verse structure can still represent the formula, even though it doesn't look quite right. Just read it aloud and the quatrains are there. Very heartfelt. Thankyou.

Gina! - Thanks for giving us this view of sibling love. The sacrifices children make for each other are often greater than the ones adults are asked for. It's a sweet memory of how we all want Santa to be real even though someone tells us he doesn't exist.

Ang - Thankyou for keeping the spirit of the season alive even through such strong evidence in your life that, sometimes, miracles are pretty thin. You remind us that even the small blessings we are graced with are better than the sorrow others face who have nothing.

JUDO - Nothing can replace having someone to share with during this season and it must be harder still to have an imagining of familial warmth dashed on the cold hearth of wishing we were back where we are loved. Thanks for reminding us that home is always where the heart is.


Happy New Year, poets and family. Be safe and pay attention to my sig line! love you all