POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

PROMPT #207 – THE JOY OF CHRISTMAS: PART THREE

THE MUSIC OF THE SEASON

For most people, the Joy of Christmas begins in the first strains of the music of the season. It puts us in a mood that we carry through the month of December, even though they begin the first of November. We all have our favorites, be they secular or more of a religious vent, something stirs us to get our holiday on with a bit more passion.

Pick a song of the season. (And you are not restricted to Christmas, since Hanukkah and Kwanzaa are also celebrated in our circles). Choose your inspiration as your title or a line in your poem and write  the joy of holiday songs!

SARA’S SONG:

WHO’S COMING TO TOWN?

A child, a small record player,
and a 45 rpm treasure. “Play
it again. Play Santa Claus
is Coming To Town.” Jewish
or not, every child I knew
envisioned Santa. When
my grandmother–speaking
a bare minimum of English–
visited, I would thrust
the little record at her for
the fourth time, and puzzled,
she would say, “Again mit dis
rekkit?” I think she got used
to it after awhile. Who could
resist the wiles of a child?

 

WALT’S WARBLE:

BELIEVE

You call it magic.
I call it faith; a belief that says
no matter what, you’re on board.
You can afford to extend your hand,
for in the grand scheme of things
the feeling this season brings
soothes your soul. The main goal
of every man, woman and child
is to hold the love in their hearts.
It always starts with love. A love of life,
a love of fellow man, a love unconditional
that positions you to do great things.
Peace on earth in goodwill and love;
the Magic of Christmas, a treasure trove.
You call it magic.I call it faith.
I am Santa Claus, if you truly believe.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

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12 thoughts on “PROMPT #207 – THE JOY OF CHRISTMAS: PART THREE

  1. HOLY NIGHT

    In the silence of that night
    angels hover in choirs
    high above the stabled cave
    where worshiping shepherds flock
    and magi from across the sands
    fill their eyes with salvation
    wrapped in swaddling clothes.

    The Holy of Holies lies
    upon the blessed straw,
    tender, mild Baby Jesus.
    His mother’s hands touch his cheeks
    and the Baby Child extends his arms
    to welcome a waiting world,
    those same arms He will extend
    one sorrowful day in sacrifice.

    #

  2. Beautiful, Salvatore! Thank you!

  3. Santa Got Run Over by A Reindeer

    Santa got run over
    by a reindeer

    Leaving home
    from our house
    on Christmas Eve

    You can say
    there’s no such thing
    as Santa

    But for me,
    he’s been drinking
    too much egg nog

    Christmas brings
    music
    holiday cheer
    shopping
    and too much
    drinking

    If we all would
    take responsibility
    for our drinking

    Maybe,
    Santa
    would not have
    been run over
    by a reindeer

    Copyright © TMC 2016

  4. William Preston on said:

    ON HEARING “O LITTLE TOWN…”

    Though I always thought it was the prime
    of all carols, it flourished sublime
    when I heard a rendition
    that harnessed fruition:
    they played it in three-quarter time.

  5. William Preston on said:

    Walt, your piece gets to the heart of the matter, in my opinion: “The main goal /
    of every man, woman and child / is to hold the love in their hearts.”

  6. William Preston on said:

    Sara, your piece is so delightful, and I can hear your grandmother.

  7. William Preston on said:

    HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

    When hate
    overpowers,
    it comforts me to think
    that love will always muddle through
    somehow.

  8. William Preston on said:

    I HEARD THE BELLS ON CHRISTMAS DAY

    They rang
    through the perils
    of cannon from the south
    and affirmed the worth of peaceful
    carols.

    NB: This poem was written during the Civil War, but two of its verses aren’t sung anymore.

    • William Preston on said:

      This carol has an amusing story. When the composer, Johnny Marks, took his version of the song to Bing Crosby for possible recording, Bing supposedly said to Marks: “Finally got yourself a good lyricist, eh?” The “good lyricist” being Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who wrote the original poem in despair over the war and his son’s wounding.

  9. William Preston on said:

    STILL, STILL, STILL

    Snowflakes settle down on a straight fly;
    without wind to wrestle them, they breathe as they pass by.

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