Sorry for the late prompt. It has been a trying time during this supposedly joyous season. Christmas came and went and I never had time to notice. There were no memories made this year; a very sad one in the making. However, that is not to say that I have no Christmas memories. Pick a memory you have made over time and make it the basis of your poem.

Please check back on Wednesday for an important announcement!



Wrapped in foil;
red and green,
a plastic saxophone
in the key of C,
a toy to make sing
and bring joy to a boy
musically inclined.
Never mind it was only a toy,
I did enjoy the sound it made,
a serenade to my ear
and for all who could hear.

(C) Walter J. Wojtanik, 2014

46 thoughts on “PROMPT #181 – “HOLIDAY MEMORIES”

  1. You and I have both had difficult holidays this year. My mother was diagnosed with bone marrow cancer, and I have been away from my personal home and husband for the last month to help care for her. In the time away, my cat of 23 years passed away. I’m missing my husband, both physically and emotionally tired, and I am ready for a happy new year. This is where we see what we are made of. ❤

  2. Sorry to hear of your pain, Patricia. My thoughts and prayers extended to you and your family as well. A Happy New Year would be most welcomed by the both of us. I raise a glass to your resolve as well!

  3. Ornament

    Another year,
    and artificial
    as the tree,
    the year,
    my smile,
    and I
    have come
    full circle.

    No matter how
    I try to bend,
    I’m distorted
    in sparkling

    Hang it all.

  4. Ivory Cages

    You are packaged, not in paper
    Tied, but not with beaming bow
    Heart-strings bind with sacred languor
    What is but a memory now

    You are held but not in fingers
    Love preserves life’s dearest part
    Where its memory-kisses linger
    Deep within, against the heart

    Ah, the mind can be a palace
    Beggars can be rich as kings
    As thought fills its bulging pockets
    With the memories love brings

    Never mind time’s turning pages
    Every day comes but to fade
    Through our skin to ivory cages
    Filled with memories we’ve made

    © Janet Martin


    The sanctuary seems so small;
    the minister seems not so tall;
    but still the candles brightly gleam
    around the curving pews and hall.

    Although the mists of memory seem
    to bring them back, as in a dream,
    the generations gathered here
    are real as snowfall on the stream

    for love is ever hovering near
    and permeates this atmosphere;
    the ghosts within the golden glow
    all smile away all doubt and fear

    as here, amidst the drifts of snow,
    the church casts light on all below.
    The sanctuary now seems small
    but love still magnifies this hall.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  6. I put my mind in gear and the outpourings (though not really a poem) surprised me:

    Christmas Memories

    The best of these were when the children were tiny
    enjoyed boxes and paper more than gifts.
    Then fun in the snow with toboggan
    and Grandma falling off and showing
    her unmentionables.

    There was the year the dog ate the turkey,
    Boxing Day morning it was.
    We’d had a great Christmas dinner
    but counted on having some more
    from the succulent bird before
    consigning the carcase to soup.

    Another year both children were poorly,
    beds either side of the living room fire.
    The medicine man came with apology –
    he’d prescribed medicine to which they were
    allergic, ignoring red letters on their notes.
    The whole thing passed in a blur,
    for them and for me.

    The next year a sailboat was under construction
    in the dining room,
    we were asked to Mum’s for the day.
    On Christmas Eve she broke her nose – panda eyes and all.
    Could everyone come to us instead?
    We managed, with standing room only in the living room
    made smaller with dining room furniture.
    But the crowning disaster was the odour
    of fibreglass from the boat,
    which tainted every mouthful.

    Another year, in-laws fell out with outlaws,
    went home in a huff through the snow.
    I vowed never again, but retracted –
    Christmas is about togetherness, no?


    After Santa delivers his last present
    After the exchange of gifts
    After the carols are sung
    After the old year creeps into history
    After the gigantic ball drops in Times Square
    After the holiday snow turns gray
    After resolutions are made and discarded
    After all these things we are still together,
    After all these eighteen years, still happy ever

  8. Angelic Debut

    Smell of hot chocolate is is the air
    Apples and oranges add to the smells
    “Quiet”, we are told as the music begins
    The lights are lowered and we jostle each other
    My halo keeps slipping and it is hot under the white choir robe
    But I cannot quit smiling as I step onstage near the shepherds
    I look out at the pews to see Mother and Uncle Art watching
    I sing extra loud so they can hear me amidst the other voices
    Ahh, I love celebrating that long ago birth

  9. My family doesn’t exactly celebrate Christmas so I don’t have very many memories about it. Except for this one spent in the hospital with the cancer patients. This image has always stuck with me.

    A False Sense Of Cheer

    The Christmas tree stood still, shining
    In the horror of its surroundings,
    All around a false sense of cheer,
    But tiptoeing softly ever near
    The deathly cold couldn’t frighten
    The children whom the fear surrounded,
    They watched with shining eyes the Christmas tree,
    Lit up in brightest red and green,
    And felt at peace this Christmas Eve
    While in the background their parents grieve,
    But the Christmas tree still stands shining
    In the horror of its surroundings…

  10. I didn’t want to miss the very last prompt.

    Christmas Memory

    I remember the Christmas
    we had hamburgers.
    No tree. No decorations.
    Well, maybe a string of lights.
    My tummy resembled
    a Christmas turkey,
    three days before my daughter was born.
    Got a phone call.
    Grandma Peters died.
    No, we’re not going to the funeral.
    Waiting for our Christmas present
    to make her entrance
    into the world.
    We brought her home
    in a Christmas stocking.

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