As we stand on the threshold of Christmas, we want you to nestle all snug in your bed and write a sugarplum. A sugarplum can be something that puts a smile on your face, a warmth in your heart or a thought in your head. A trigger to bigger things. A memory spark tied to the Holiday season, no matter which you celebrate!

But also, you can write about sleep. My history with every sleep disorder in the book plays into this as well. Give your vision some life.


what sweeter dream
at end of day
than Babe of peace
in manger’s hay
© Copyright – Marie Elena Good 2012



The night is silent and still.
The children nestle and dream
sweet thoughts for a restful slumber.
And despite the turmoil that stirs,
mankind yearns for goodwill
toward brothers and sisters
not known, a love shown for a day
blessed and pure, all calm and bright;
a Silent Night. A Holy Night
in Heavenly peace!

© Copyright – Walter J. Wojtanik 2012

116 thoughts on “VISIONS OF SUGARPLUMS – PROMPT # 87

  1. Night’s Enchantment

    Moonlight casts its silvery spell,
    Whispering to my weary ears,
    Blanketing in cover of dark,
    The silent, sleepy world beneath.

    A whole new world is wakened then:
    A world of sleep, of night, of dreams.
    And visions march across the roofs
    Of my eyelids, parading scenes.

    Scenes of sweetness, joy or laughter,
    Scenes of darkness, evil, danger.
    My mind runs wild through the night,
    Chasing dreams across my pillow.

  2. Sweet dreams, Bloomies.

    the sugarplum dreamer, deeply asleep,
    on the first night of winter, imagined
    the days were growing longer. she
    was a sunflower, in that dream, or
    a tin, pumped, spinning top–red,
    yellow, white, blur–or rope swing
    unwinding. wind in her face and hair

  3. Sugarplum Dreams

    My Christmas wish is simple:
    the love and health of my family,
    time to spend with them,
    and hope for the future.

    I am lucky enough to have had
    all three wishes come true.
    Santa, you can skip my house.
    We have all the gifts we need.

  4. Christmas Memories

    Snowflakes, twinkling Christmas lights

    A huge painted Santa with hand up in a wave
    Wave to friends and family, smiles they gave

    Presents and farm set under the tree
    Tree, the best ever
    Evergreen straight from the yard
    Yard filled with snow

    Bare feet run in anticipation
    Anticipation of celebration

    Children up before dawn
    Dawn arrives, parents yawn

    A flurry of paper and glad cries
    Cries of delight
    Delight entwined with peace
    Peace like a blanket of snow

    Twinkling lights, turkey smells
    Smells and sounds of jingle bells

    Snow falling in hills and trees
    Trees, evergreen memories


    they dazzle us now
    in their abandon
    their words sparkle
    and dance through lines
    in perfect Christmas time

    they amaze us
    as we tremble
    to find our gleeful selves
    diving beneath the surface
    of red and green

    only to discover
    the words down there
    define our lives
    and if we could
    we’d never swim
    to the surface

    we’d lose ourselves
    to the measured motion
    of the stanzas

    we’d live out our dreams
    in green and red;
    we’d let the words

    say who we are
    and believe them.


  6. Pingback: Sugarplums « echoes from the silence

    • I left you a comment onsite, Paula, but wanted to reiterate here. It was a lovely sugarplum. I thoroughly enjoyed it.


    In the rush
    of the day
    my mind is on
    the dashing
    that consume
    the holiday

    In the hush
    of the night
    my heart lingers
    on thoughts
    of people
    (past and present)
    who make the
    holiday special.


    In the corner of our dining room
    atop the small curio cabinet
    he sits.

    Asleep and lost in dreams of sugar plums, I’m sure,
    he is
    wearing red shirt
    with horizontal stripe,
    baseball cap on a tilt
    Christmas tree branch crooked in elbow
    smile on his face.

    Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

  9. A Sugar Plum…

    Silent night
    A froth of white
    Sifts from the lower cloud
    It wraps the earth
    In sparkling mirth
    Redemption’s spotless shroud

    Heavenly peace
    Mankind’s release
    From worldly weariness
    Where all is calm
    Held in the Palm
    Of Perfect Love’s caress

    Whisper of prayer
    Wings through the air
    Past midnight’s star-kissed seas
    Where God imparts
    To love-worn hearts
    Life’s tender memories

    © Janet Martin

  10. Carol for an Open December

    Shadows push through the afternoon
    Stretching to meet the sun
    Which hurries through its timid circle
    Striking the hills with golden fire
    Blazing amber through the oaks.
    Each layer of brown lies warming to the next,
    From the pale stems of broken grass
    In the san-beige meadows touching
    The final mahogany
    Of fall plowed fields.

    This is where the deer
    Come dashing out between
    Dulled hills of cedar green.
    Their hooves strike magic sparkles on the frosted ground
    Faster than the eye can comprehend.
    Then silence wraps itself around
    The sudden emptiness until
    The barking of a distant dog
    Scatters staccato pebbles against
    The echoing hills.

    Weary now, the sun slips through the trees.
    The fading light
    Draws into its circle the evening star,
    Rims the naked trees with silver nets of frost.
    Each footstep on the hardened earth
    Rings and from afar
    The evening church bell chimes and cuts
    A silver pathway through the darkening air.

    Note: I cheated with this one. I wrote it over 30 years ago, It has always been a favorite & when I read “Christmas memories, I decided to post it.

  11. Promise

    We dream of hope and sacrifice
    and wait in darkness for the light.
    A baby is a promise
    that wrong can be made right.

    When humble faith can kneel us down
    and kindness melt upon the tongue,
    the best of what we are resounds—
    no wonder bells are rung!

    Loved your poems today, Marie and Walt! Merry Christmas, friends!

  12. The Stuff of Dreams

    What sugared fancies dance in dreams,
    What sweet notes fall from angel wings,
    What beauty shines from winter’s sun
    Upon the snow when day’s begun.

    What loving words, what tender smiles,
    What peace can reach across the miles,
    What wonder fills us, come what may,
    When we awake on Christmas Day.

  13. Visions of a Sugar Plum

    In holiday dream,
    table laid
    red and white
    end to end with festive foods
    each representing

    cultures of dear friends,
    joined, smiling,
    glasses raised,
    toasting to health, friendship, peace,
    my holiday dream.

    Hope your plums are sugared this season.

  14. This is inspired by one of my favorite musical pieces of all time.

    Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker

    Sleep’s deep in winter,
    Enriched by dreams of snowfall,
    Sugarplums dancing.

    Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker suits
    The spirit of the season.

    Bringing peaceful dreams,
    Faeries dance, flowers waltzing,
    Sleep’s deep in winter.

    © Copyright – Erin Kay Hope 2012

  15. Christmas Tree

    When needles rattle
    and fall to the floor
    then you’ll know
    it’s a tree no more.

    That’s why our tree
    is fantastic plastic
    ’cause it springs right back
    every year.

    ~ Merry Christmas ~

  16. Pingback: The Christmas Tree « Misky

  17. Walt and Marie, as usual you gave us great examples.

    Each year since 1999, this memory has kept me grounded during this season. Hope you can enjoy it along with me.

    Small Things

    We all gathered,
    Diverse women in hall,
    Sewing chatting defining
    Ourselves by hand and
    Purpose for that season.

    Scraps of fabric we cut
    In boot style, big enough
    For goodies and trimmed
    With spare lace or ribbon,
    And jingles bells on cuffs.

    Amid laughter and learning
    We placed our care into
    Myriad small person futures
    To carry their hopes forward,
    To know someone else cared.

    When those bright stockings
    Overflowed with pencils and
    Prizes, alongside fruits and nuts.
    They traveled horseback to
    Hillsides, caves, and homesites

    Where children of sparse fortune
    Celebrated with less expectation,
    Knowing life gave them small
    Things to appreciate and
    Possibilities for surprising cheer.

    • Clauds, what a wonderful thing to do, and captured here so sweetly. You’ve put a smile on my face this Christmas Eve as I head to bed.

      Wishing you all visions of sugar plums and peaceful rest.

      Marie Elena

      • Thank you, Marie. Jo and I did it two years in a row while we lived in AZ, with the Am. Legion Aux. We collected and put together food baskets for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, with stocking for the kids on Christmas. There were nearly 75 volunteers who worked for months getting everything lined up and on target.

        In total we provided for 250 families, many of whom lived up in the mountains. Those boxes had to go in by pack horse and mule. There were no roads back into those areas. And when I mentioned caves, I wasn’t using metaphor.

        Remembering those two years always make me feel good about what the season is all about. Wishing you and everyone here a wonderful holiday.

          • You’re sweet, Marie. We’ve just been a lot of places.Our lives have been as blessed as most and filled with adventures. Each experience prepares us for those in the future.

  18. The Dream

    Ah, Sugarplum, the fairy, takes her flight
    as midnight tolls and heavy folds my eyes.
    Into my dreams, she spins a golden light.
    She sits upon my nose, and then she sighs:

    “All life has gone away; the bells and sleigh.
    The beauty of the day ; the frosty flow`rs;
    the birdie on the branch has flown away!
    Now, you must be respectful of your Hours”.

    From gold to cold became my gray-green dream;
    my sleep once more disturbed as in the past.
    The birdie on the branch, a promise seen,
    has taken flight; my hope is lost at last.

    The dream of all my days has flown away
    and in the morning gloom the sadness strays.

  19. “And visions of sugar-bums danced in his head”

    Grandma – what’s a sugar-bum? Do I have one?
    You betcha buddy – yours is the cutest sugar-bum of all
    I reply to my grandson – the one with the “plumber” jeans
    The ones that won’t stay up for nothin’, and we have not
    Been able to find suspenders anywhere that will fit
    A toddler – he mishears that part of the story over and over
    And why not? Sugar plum, sugar bum – both make as little sense
    To this Canadian child who has never heard of either …

  20. Pingback: Sugarplum… (a haiku) | Metaphors and Smiles

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