The last minute rush which blends into the hustle and bustle we seem to get involved in gets the spotlight this week in our march toward Dec. 25th. Tradition to preparation to the rush, we’re finally here. And so are our Blooms:
Marie Elena’s Bloom:
Janet Martin’s untitled piece receives my second Beautiful Bloom in as many weeks. Tender and touching; thoughtfully crafted … a “wish I’d written this” and offered as a gift to all of you.
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
They say Christmas is for children. But I just think it has a fun aspect to it that appeals to young and old alike. That mirth is infused into this piece by Mary Mansfield. The rhyme is playful and the pace is akin to the urgency that the Christmas rush espouses. And don’t tell me all houses aren’t as hectic on this last day before Christmas…
The Christmas Rush by Mary Mansfield
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.
Congratulations to Janet and Mary for their selections and to all our poets for the wonderful gift of your poetry. All given from the heart and accepted in loving embrace in return.