PROMPT #317 – CHRISTMAS WORD CLOUD



Using this word cloud, write the gift of a poem for the rest of us.

The RED words tell the Santa story; the GREEN touch on the Nativity.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

MARIE’S CLOUD:

O Humble Town of Splendid Star

O Bethlehem,
do you know the One you have birthed?
Let the earth rejoice;
raise her voice in song! 
For the long-awaited Christ was born of Mary –
the very woman the angel blessed. 
She feeds the King at her breast,
as angel choirs sing praise,
and a star blazes above you,
O little town. 

No crown for this babe
who is able to save,
and will conquer the grave someday

yet for now, rests in hay –

This Way. 
This Truth. 
This Life.

O Bethlehem …
your star, a royal diadem.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

 

WALT’S CLOUD:

REASONS AND SEASONS

 

Who needs any more reason for the season?

This is the time of year the children find pleasing,

A mother-to-be upon a mule

they have the hardest time that night keeping their cool.

bearing a child who would be the Christ!

They hope they’ve made the nice list,

To Bethlehem they have come to be counted.

but a damage control plan has been mounted.

They had come to this place, to a stable

They concern themselves with the age-old fable

and it is there where the Savior was born.

that Santa will check his once, then twice before that morn.

A Child marked by a heavenly star, the reason

A good once over will not suffice, a nice would be quite pleasing.

for our existence, a recompense for our sins.

So the children listen for the reindeer and the sleigh,

Thus the whole Christmas season begins.

Hoping for the toys with which to play.

And we celebrate that Christmas to this very day!

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2020

48 thoughts on “PROMPT #317 – CHRISTMAS WORD CLOUD

  1. O Holy Night

    in a busy little town
    lights twinkling
    inside and out
    children dreaming,
    papas building
    toys with a hundred parts…
    O night divine
    the snow falls
    as softly as an angel’s sigh
    dusting the boughs
    from a blue-black sky
    covering the doll
    in a wooden cradle
    all is calm
    all is bright
    and the lights
    twinkle in the night
    around a manger scene.

  2. The Reason

    Angels: heavenly, strong, powerful, glowing, glorious
    Shepherds: earthly, humble caregivers of smelly sheep
    They met one night, for a reason, the promised Messiah
    He’s still the reason the high and low can come together

  3. Setting Out the Crib Again

    She sends me pictures of the town
    of Bethlehem atop the salvaged sideboard
    one that Joseph might’ve made
    for a rich man’s house but the house
    of David rode a mule to a manger
    she’s placed inside the fifty-year old
    snow fencing bound with thread
    like wires wrapping the tiny barn
    yard with the open shed where
    the Virgin huddles and the sheep
    tuck into their own wool against
    the sharp night shepherds wrapped
    about with their cloaks

    so many soft gifts she had ready
    everything left behind in the rush
    leaving them all like immigrants
    denied room in any inn safe harbor
    here now on the town’s outskirst
    not knowing this strange border
    is the edge of Salvation beneath the Star
    they’d seen dancing in the night
    this journey to be sung by saints angels
    Magi bearing gifts in recognition
    of someOne greater
    than kings and divinations

    and today in malls across the world
    reenactments of St. Nicolas as Santa
    so many scurrying elves disguised
    as trash collectors, parents, teachers
    nurses, doctors bearing gifts of love
    so much too long to list the sleigh
    of hope overwhelming so that we
    all pitch in to be Santa/Christ too
    the baby she’s placed in the tiny crib
    grown into a mighty tree so many
    branches wrapping up a world

    she scatters dried grass hay around
    the yard she’s built on the runner from
    Ecuador where in the distance camels
    begin their long journey and I see it all
    in her face reflected in the mirrored glass.

  4. What Thoughts

    What thought the mule?
    This bucked the rules
    Why were people there
    In the animals’ lair
    Something just wasn’t right
    On this particular night

    What thought the lamb?
    Someone’s in a jam
    Why so unable
    To be put in a stable
    Something just wasn’t right
    Would this be a special night?

    What thought the hay?
    Where this young woman lay
    As the stable became
    A house of birthing pain
    Something still wasn’t right
    On this strange peculiar night

    What thought the manger?
    Used by these new strangers
    Where they laid the Babe in
    Where they laid our New King
    Something suddenly was right
    On that first Christmas night

  5. Angels of a Different Ilk

    The shepherds looked up to the night sky.
    The Magi each looked upward too.
    Winged angels were singing, and a star
    was showing the way to a King.

    And there, outside that rough stable,
    were angels that most overlooked.
    Not messengers in heavenly raiments,
    but three camels and one humble mule.

  6. Silvery Season

    North Pole’s workshop
    is in a tizzy. Busy
    elves help Santa sort
    lists from children
    who have proven
    themselves to be nice–
    twice as nice as
    the rest of the year.
    As always, well-meaning
    reindeer attempt helping
    with gift wrapping, but
    their antlers get in the
    way. They study the route
    that Santa’s sleigh will
    take, instead. In bed,
    children wait impatiently
    for Christmas morning,
    and hope none of their
    gifts are socks.

  7. TURNING THE DARK OF DECEMBER

    Some say it’s Santa and the elves
    that bring the Christmas cheer;
    others say Magi and a manger
    are images most dear.

    Some thoughts stray northward to the Pole
    and tinsel, tots, and toys,
    while others center on Bethlehem
    as the place of greatest joys,

    but whether sleighs or tiny reindeer
    or nativity be the reason,
    this is the time when light returns;
    this is the brightest season.

  8. Marie, your piece is what I’d call an echoing poem: it includes familiar phrasing from other works. Beautifully done.

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