POETIC BLOOMINGS, a site established in May 2011 and which reunites Marie Elena Good and Walter J Wojtanik to help nurture and inspire the poetic spirit.


Traditions and preparations aside now.  Did you remember everything? The gift for the kids? The favorite dish for Grandpa? Take a little time for yourself to just enjoy the tree? There’s always those Last Minute details to finalize before the Holiday is complete. Tells us what they usually are. Is there a gift you’d like? Something you would have done differently? You’re running out of time. Tell us.

Marie’s Finishing touch:

Saving the Best for Last

In the quiet of Christmas Eve,
An empty manger beneath the tree
Receives the Baby King
As clock hands point heavenward.

Walt’s Last Minute:

For the sake of humanity
All I want is my sanity.
Wrapped up in a big red bow.
Even if I have to get it myself!

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69 thoughts on “CHRISTMAS A WEEK AWAY – Prompt # 34

  1. On His Behalf

    I keep forgetting
    the guy who carries Mr. M &M around
    and hands him to me
    expecting pretend M & M kisses
    loves his wonderful parents very much
    and has no abilities to wish them Merry Christmas.
    So I need to make the annual calendar
    featuring him each month
    so he can, in a way, let them know
    he loves them every day.

  2. Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

    Oh, beautiful, Meg! Walt, the most Loving thing that you can do for yourself is to Give to yourself Peace, Joy, and Contentment—–first. I wish you both Love. Merry Christmas, Hen

  3. Pingback: No More Time « echoes from the silence

  4. Earlier this week I wrote my first TRIOLET for the in-form prompt here at Poetic Bloomings. There’s something about the repetition and the rhyming scheme that begged to be a part of a frenzied “last minute” poem! So…here’s my second-ever triolet.


    Time has run out
    for all the shoulds.
    After running about
    time has run out.
    There is no doubt,
    I’ve no more coulds.
    Time has run out
    for all the shoulds.

    P. Wanken

    Merry Christmas, Marie Elena and Walt. Thank you for the beautiful gifts you’ve given us all, all throughout the year, in giving of yourselves here at Poetic Bloomings.

    ~ Paula

  5. Pingback: Last minute wishes | Vivinfrance's Blog

  6. Man Shopping

     Me, wait for the last minute again? Sure.
    A man thing, you would not understand.
    Kind of like the thrill of the kill,
    The race for the finish line.
    Adrenaline rush sales,
    Laughing at price tags
    As time runs out.
    Checking list
    As stores

  7. Long Ago on a Holiday Night

    In holidays past,
    I recall
    my sister
    baking bread, omitting salt.
    Small detail, bad bread.

  8. Pingback: Man Shopping | Awakened Words


    Minds are racing
    Thought patterns
    That so cloud
    Real meaning
    Search amid the hay
    Cradle this Love
    And never let it go.

  10. Merry Christmas to all of you guys!! Blessings to you all!

    • Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

      And Blessings to you and yours also, Hannah (lovely name, I have been thinking since the first day that I saw it!). Hen

  11. All I Want

    All I want for Christmas
    is to see the smiling faces
    of those I love the most,
    as we celebrate His Graces.

    All I want for Christmas
    is some time that I can share
    with loved ones that I cherish.
    To shower them with care.

    All I want for Christmas
    is to radiate pure love.
    Not a pair of slippers
    or a right and left hand glove.

    All I want for Christmas
    is a kind and peaceful soul.
    Spending time together,
    so the parts become the whole.

    All I want for Christmas
    is good health for everyone,
    to celebrate the meaning.
    Yes, the birthday of His Son.

    By Michael Grove

  12. to whom

    for Christmas I would like a POD ( that’s right:
    the truck-size storage module, delivered to the house
    and parked right in the driveway by the porch), and
    seven guys to make things happen. Elves or dwarves
    or burly movers, doesn’t matter; I just want
    an endless line of cheerful workers. I just want
    the things I want to keep packed up and all the crap
    passed on or piled, just never seen by me again.
    Box this, toss that. You, Monday, hey there, Sunday:
    have a beer then get a move on. When you’re through,
    scrape down the walls to lathe, and plaster them
    all neat and nice; repoint the windows, polish them;
    pull the carpet, sand the floors and seal them; roll
    out some new linoleum, and one of you with color sense
    please help me pour through chips, and when the paint
    has dried, unpack the POD and send it home, but
    don’t bring back the TV and the sofa, you can keep
    them if you want (a little bird has
    told me they’ll be needing a home)

  13. Ready

    Christmas Day falls on Sunday, changing
    our perspective of gift and preparation.
    Neither of us can keep hold of a gift after
    we buy it, so things for others went to them
    posthaste. Months ago, our gift desires
    began to die, replaced before September.
    Hoho, new refrigerator, Hiho, new deck ramp.
    Ahhoy, new microwave. Whoohoo, bedroom
    shoes and sturdy boots.

    Anything we don’t have already, we can’t
    afford and probably don’t need, our buying
    in to buying in displaced for family hugs.
    This Christmas, we’re giving one another
    a warm hearth, fine food, good music,
    decked halls, genuine affection and hope,
    last year’s new sewing machine and
    electric toothbrush, still in their boxes,
    a worship service filled with wonderful music,
    and adoration of a little baby born to take
    away our need, our greed, our shame.

  14. Too Soon

    All four candles are lit,
    My dear faces aglow.
    Time, slow down just a bit,
    You can do it, I know.

    Make the moments endless,
    You did so in the past.
    Please, postpone my Christmas,
    Make this final week last.

    Enjoy the last week of Advent!

  15. Re-Pre-Prepared

    This year, I said, I’ll be all prepared
    fruity bread and treats made ahead
    but I ate the lot right then
    and there so I’ll have to re-prepare
    myself all over again.

  16. MiskMask, I loved that poem. So cute!

  17. This isn’t really about Christmas, just a scrap of memory

    on old highway #1: wake

    Sleepy and barefoot, down the steps
    to go outside and pee.  It was winter,
    and crowded like Christmas.  There was never
    a Christmas tree in the front room, with the sparks
    popping in the air when new wood was added
    too quickly.  There were no strings of lights,
    one hanging bulb with a ball chain pull.
    It was winter, and crowded like Christmas.

    I remember little.  it was winter, and
    because Papaw’s body was in the front bedroom,
    there were two beds less, and all the children
    were upstairs, calling out and giggling from
    islands in the dark.   nothing between us
    and winter but the interlocking tin, we
    were buried under quilts, four, five and heavy
    each one squares and triangles of some 
    aunt’s dress or uncle’s shirt used thin,
    but cut and stitched together, painting
    flowered diamonds on cotton batting.

    I remember little.  coming barefoot down the steps,
    past overalls hung from nails between studs, a touch
    of denim in the dark.  past the shotguns
    the 20/20 and the 410 leaning between studs
    and smelling oiled in the dark, and the rifle.
    pasteboard boxes on the braces with shells,
    foxhorn hanging with them from a leather thong.

    downstairs, the woodstove burned all night
    and the women, like a string of dropped beads,
    sat in ladderback chairs and rockers
    around the living room.  they talked
    all night, quiet, getting up one now to get
    a sip of water from the bucket in the kitchen,
    dipper tin and bumped hanging above it on a nail.

    men in thick work coats came inside to warm
    and bring more wood, one or two, one or
    two.  hold his hands above the stove, talk
    to his mother, talk to his wife and the neighbor
    women,  and go out the front door to the frost,

    out on the back porch, sleepy and barefoot,
    I pee in the moonlight, and go back upstairs.

  18. Andrew Kreider on said:

    I recognize I’m getting ahead of the story here, but this is what came. Thanks Walt and Marie Elena for a wonderful year of poetic bloomings!


    Light steals into the coffee shop
    with sand-rimmed eyes still arguing
    the route. A plain girl is watching

    their movements, one coarse cloth on top
    of her nursing child, her singing
    gilding the room. The strangers stop,

    stunned, while at their journey’s ending
    light steals into the coffee shop.

  19. Behind My Time

    Travel takes its toll.
    Whirlwind trek as I yearn
    to return to hearth and warm
    my frozen heart. Holiday cheer
    nestles and I am home for the holiday.
    All preparation is last minute.
    But being ready is a steady run
    to the eve. It fills me and leaves me
    sated; a celebrated Christmas.
    The merriest; God bless us every one.

  20. Waiting for Christmas

    Pretty packages peak from under the tree
    as needles once perky now sag.
    Children hover, but don’t touch
    as they count down days, hours, minutes
    until Santa arrives.
    I try
    not to drive my husband crazy
    fretting about
    money spent
    on gifts to thrill and delight.
    What if I did not spend well?
    What if the gifts are not quite right?
    What if I replaced the one each longed for
    with the one merely mentioned,
    a passing interest,
    a fleeting desire now expired?
    So I count down days, hours, minutes
    as well,
    hoping that smiles will swell
    and my frights will dispel
    once the wrapping is ripped and
    treasures revealed.
    Until then, I must wait
    tasty cookies on my plate
    and the smell of aging pine in the air.

  21. This is my wish….for you:) You each are very dear to me. Merry Christmas. See You in 2012…Lord willing and the creek don’t rise;))

    It’s difficult sometimes to spell in words
    The heart of all those thoughts we deeply feel
    But I must try, for you have kindly stirred
    My soul with honesty and thoughts surreal
    Once I assumed a friend is one we meet
    Then learn to cherish, love and trust with time
    But I have known a friendship, rich and sweet
    Nurtured by the magic of a rhyme

    A poet’s heart is more than flesh and blood
    It sees beyond perimeters of sight
    It races at the mention of a word
    Defining it within the dead of night
    I’ve held you close to me within a pen
    Yet felt you tear the longing from my chest
    By words that you have woven in a poem
    To strike the chord of grief and tenderness

    You, my friend, have taught me how to fly
    To scoff at fear wielding its scornful threat
    You, my friend, have taught me how to cry
    And how to dance and twirl and pirouette
    Anticipation wakes with me at dawn
    It trembles in each moment’s soft embrace
    For who can know the poem your whispers spawn
    Beneath the touch of lips in cyber-space

    It’s difficult sometimes, to spell in words
    Thoughts too profound for letters formed in ink
    But in night’s deepest quiet I have heard
    A tiny glimpse of what you feel and think
    So in this Christmas season I extend
    A prayer to you for happiness and cheer
    Merry Christmas, my dear poet-friends
    God bless you now and through the coming year

  22. The Gift

    Gifts still hidden
    Christ unhidden
    wrapped in love

  23. The Christmas Rush

    Wrap the presents. Trim the tree.
    Run to the store for batteries.
    Time to hang the stockings up.
    Pour fresh eggnog in my cup.
    Bake the cookies, it’s getting late.
    Try to save one for Santa’s plate.
    Out of coffee, need some more,
    Go back to that blasted store
    To pick up everything I missed.
    Now where did I put that stupid list?
    Check the broken Christmas lights.
    Wish I could have a Silent Night.
    Learned my lesson, next year I’ll begin it
    Before the absolute very last minute.

  24. the night is silent
    we gather together to
    bask in His presence

    • For the longer version of this thought, follow the link below to my blog.

      I suppose given that a portion of the blog post is a narrative and a portion is a haiku, it could really be considered a haibun! 🙂

      Merry Christmas, all…may you all find time to enjoy each other’s presence…

      ~ Paula

    • Henreitta Katie Choplin on said:

      Beautiful haibun, Paula!!! Peace of presence to you and yours…..Hen

  25. Pingback: The Gift of Presence « echoes from the silence

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