Christmas music fills the airwaves these days. And it’s easy to find inspiration in a good song title. Using one such title as your poem’s title, write that poem!
WALT’S TRIGGER:
I HEARD THE BELLS ON CHRISTMAS DAY
The week before Christmas you’ll hear them clearly telling you that it’s nearly Christmas day. You know their familiar sound, a carol that will resound through the valley and down every alleyway and thoroughfare. It is there where you’ll hear them, they’ll endear themselves to you. And when their peal is through you’ll know, that Christmas Day has come to pass at last. We will join in their ringing while townsfolk will be singing their tune. Christmas bells certainly make me swoon. I am Santa Claus and I must say, I hear the bells each Christmas Day.
(c) Walter J Wojtanik
I WILL SING WITH TEARS IN MY EYES
Part 1
A morning sweet melody refuses
to be trapped within the confines of walls.
It rouses the dead from the deep halls of sleep.
The enigma of its flowing rushes like a river.
The abundance of its inspiration cleanses the hearer.
It compels the belief that hope is nigh, or even nearer.
The snaking of reverberant verse is angelic.
The slight effect of soothing echo is therapeutic.
The bellowing of tune carries the joy of music.
Benjamin Thomas
This is so lovely…. thank you
Thank you.
I WILL SING WITH TEARS IN MY EYES
Part 2
I will sing with tears in my eyes
from the secret place that songs do spring.
I will sing while drenching wet—showers of waters coursing over me, although some try to cling.
I am confused as to which is the rain,
and which are the teardrops that fall,
although they do cleanse from the grief—
both, will freely fall down the drain.
One is the purity of the heavens presence,
quenching the thirst of nature’s calling.
The other bears the pain of the living…
Yet an eager earth still beckons their falling.
I will sing with tears yet in my eyes—for they
were never mine to keep. I must emancipate
their rightful release. I must administer their
freedom, their final escape.
I will sing with tears in my eyes—for they
are the melodious sound in which I weep.
Their joyous plunking I’ll always remember,
inscribed in heart, that—I’ll always keep.
Benjamin Thomas
I love this and I never thought of tears not being ours and we had to free them… wonderful spiritual visual
One Can Dream
I so want this to be
our Christmas Song,
Inviting all ye faithful,
on this, oh holy night.
Praying you hear what I hear,
that it’s possible to bring
joy to the world,
and rest at last to merry gentlemen
(and gentlewomen).
Santa baby,
all I want for Christmas
is a truly silent night,
no artillery drummer boy
simply angels we have heard on high,
singing Christmas is the time
to say I love you.
Let us rock around the Christmas tree.
Let us tell it on the mountain…
…Happy Xmas (war is over).
Praise all that is holy,
let this be our Christmas Song.
Oh how creative and fabulous
Fun combination of so many song titles. Nicely done.
Several wonderful lines here.
This is brilliant, Daniel!
Walt, I love your poem and that is one of my favorite Christmas songs…
I Wonder as I Wander…
I was born a wanderer…
Some say I am a wayfaring one…
They might be right.
I learned this song
When I took voice
Back when I was young…
I went to college
And learned that one building
Had the best acoustics.
At night when I walked the streets
To think about things,
And reminding myself not to give up
Or give in but to keep going
For one more day…
I would find myself to this building,
Before I headed home,
And I would sing this song
Into the building…
I sang it because it gave me peace.
I sang it because I felt connected to home.
I sang it because it stilled my soul.
I went back to my college
After I graduated,
And several came up to me
And said,
That they missed hearing me sing.
I thought no one had heard me.
Sometimes
In the dark of night,
I still sing this song
For the same reasons…
In the music and the words
I hear my people…
Those of Appalachia speaking,
And I see the rolling of the hills,
Being so close to the stars
On a cold night.
I have lived my life
A stranger far from home
Until it became home to me.
This life of mine is filled with wonders,
And I am a wanderer for sure…
My life is a journey…
To places I have not been
Especially those that concern my heart.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
December 12, 2021
John Jacob Niles was in Western North Carolina and he was a song catcher… he heard a little girl sing only one line of this song, and from that he created the song I wander as I wonder….I love this song…
This whole poem seemed like an adventure.
thank you
What a lovely poem, and song title.
For my sister who lost her son one year ago today
I’ll be Home for Christmas
“I’ll be home for Christmas”
The last words that he said
He knew where he was going
As he laid down his weary head
One hand held his mother’s hand
In the other he held his wife’s
Both were there to say farewell
As he prepared to leave this life
The preacher had already visited
A salvation prayer was prayed
He knew that Jesus was waiting
He knew that he could not stay
Before he breathed his last breath
He told mom, “It’s okay.
I did this to myself, Mom,
My choices brought this day.”
His words stirred great emotions
But did not ease her pain
‘Cause soon he would be leaving
Only memories would remain
Yes, he’d be home for Christmas
In his new eternal home
But he’d be missed in this life
Just like others that had gone
The pain of his departure
Would linger on for years
Thoughts of him and what was
Would bring smiles and many tears
He’d live on in her memories
And she’d long to see his face
Even though she knew for sure
He was in a better place
Yes, he’d be home for Christmas
In that better place above
Where one day we’d all gather
Praising Jesus and His love
this is so lovely and yes we will gather there one day…
Very well penned…. so much in each line–the capture of the pain of leaving, the pain for those left behind…such stately cadence lends to the visual of this deathbed…. poignant, painful. I hope she finds peace this Christmas along with his wife…. sad.
Beautifully written, Earl.
Card Lying on the Table
To Eric Clapton’s Christmas Tears
Dark skies rain tears
stars and reindeer
as I look out the window.
Children and cherub sing
but not for me
as I look
at a card left unsigned
on the table.
I write another poem
for you. Although
it’s been years,
it seems like yesterday
the day we met.
And that December,
you said my card
was the first that year,
when my simple gesture
longed to say more.
Back then I wove
our stories shared to keep warm
even on the coldest days.
Alone today I sit
and take a sip of hot chocolate
to the sweet taste of memory.
the sadness flows in this poem… good work
“The sweet taste of memory” – a lovely sentiment, Mike.
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Little Drummer Boy
Did you drum
a busker at the city gate
or did you precede
the Pharisees as they paraded
in their robes and phylacteries
to the temple to worship
at the Ark tossing
you a coin now and then
as they skirted past
your dusty face
your bare and dustier feet
and when Balthasar took
your shoulder gently
in his big hand and began
to shepherd you toward
that rustic manager
pungent with cow and sheep
did you wonder as you wandered
how you came to be the one
brought to play so late
at night and that glow
like a low but steady hearth fire
coming from the manager and
the hay not burning beside
the woman and her tall husband
leaning on his staff after
the long walk beside the donkey
and you doing what
you always loved to do
skirling your sticks so
softly like a lullaby
to soothe the little one
and Mary smiling at you
with a mother’s love for
another child but you
didn’t see because
you had your own eyes
rapt upon the tiny babe
his cinnamon eyes watching
you so intently as if waiting
for your final flourish
then he smiled at you
gave it like a special gift
and you took it with you
down the days of busking
and heralding tucked inside
your heart forever brighter
than any coin ever tossed.
This blessed my heart
Lovely writing, Pat.
Sweet Little Jesus Boy…
I was sixteen
When I was given this song to sing
For my recital…
I fussed…
I didn’t believe in God.
But the words
That Jesus was treated mean…
Took root in my heart…
I was bullied and abused…
And broken…
For maybe He understood.
At college I heard Him call me,
And I answered.
The words of this song
Took new meaning…
Some nights when I was so lonely
I would stand in front of that building
And pour out my sorrows in that song.
I knew when I denied Him,
And how badly I scorned Him.
The words forgive reach deep
Into my damaged soul,
And I knew He did.
I knew a singer
That sang this song better than me
For her voice never missed a note,
But the words were just words…
Some songs can’t be sung right
Until you pour out your pain…
I still sing this song
Though my voice is rusty.
I like to walk under a winter sky
When the stars are like rhinestones,
And pour out my soul to the night
Knowing that no one hears me
Except Him who saved me
From myself.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
December 12, 2021
here are the words to the song
Sweet little Jesus boy
They made you be born in a manger
Sweet little holy child
We didn’t know who you were
Didn’t know you’d come to save us Lord
To take our sins away
Our eyes were blind, we could not see
We didn’t know who you were
Long time ago
You were born
Born in a manger Lord
Sweet little Jesus boy
The world treats you mean Lord
Treats me mean too
But that’s how things are down here
We don’t know who you are
You have told us how
We are trying
Master you have shown us how
Even when you were dying
Just seems like we can’t do right
Look how we treated you
But please Sir forgive us Lord
We didn’t know it was you
Sweet little Jesus boy
Born a long time ago
Sweet little holy child
We didn’t know who you were
A traditional African American Song
The Christmas Song
There is nothing
like a roasted
chestnut. During
holiday season
I am always pleased
to see a vendor,
smoke spiraling
through the air
from roasted chestnuts.
If you have a fireplace,
bring chestnuts home
in their paper sack,
and watch the glow,
and know you are warm,
sated, and lucky.
This made me wish I had that memory… in the mountains we boiled our chestnuts much like people in the deep south boiled their peanuts… I miss going to school and someone bringing boiled chestnuts for us at recess.
I didn’t even know you could boil them! My mom roasted them for stuffing.
O Christmas Tree
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
How bedraggled are your branches!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
How bedraggled are your branches!
We’ve had you now these twenty years
You’re losing needles, it appears
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
How bedraggled are your branches!
The angel’s wings are broken way up there on your tippy top
Ornaments hold many memories
Sloppy creations by my children.
A menagerie of souvenirs from trips
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
How bedraggled are your branches!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
How bedraggled are your branches!
But you still point up to the sky
Reminding us the Lord is nigh
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
How bedraggled are your branches
This made me smile….
Big smile for this one, Connie!
Some Children See Him….
Their eyes were brown and blue
But sometimes hazel…
Their skin was dark brown like the walnuts
Or lighter like pecans,
Some had skin the color of soft pink
Sprinkled with freckles…
Sometimes they were the tan of summer
That they wore each day….
They had blonde hair touched with red hints,
Or boldly red that shown like a copper penny,
Of dark black hair straight and heavy…
There were the curls worn as a halo
That was slightly skewed…
Some were always sad,
And some pure trouble…
Others were bright with hope,
And wanting to love.
How they trusted and saw hope
In hopeless times.
Some say they saw His face like their own…
I just know that whatever their face was
It shined with the light of creation
When they were small and helpless…
And it was the grownups in their lives
That robbed them of that light…
Who taught them the darkness,
And I came to restore it…
There is a beauty in a child
Who is innocent…
Within their faces and their bones
Is the light of love…
To those children
Hearing the story of a baby
Who was born long ago…
A story of camels and donkeys and sheep
And angels and a huge star,
And farmers and shepherds and wise men…
May those children that hear that story
See that baby looking just like them…
And may their innocence not be robbed by us.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
December 12, 2021
OH, HOLY NIGHT
The song most inspires
And fires
Up the season
For some reason
Maybe it is the mention
Of Divine
That appeals every time
Or the fact
I was asked to sing
The song
In the choir
In sixth grade
Or how wonderfully holy
Everything appears
The night before
The Christmas crush of noise
Overly excited girls and boys
In the morning
As the stimulation hits its pitch
And what’s left, the
Hurry
Scurry
Of the mad Christmas unwrap
Before the clap
Of clean up
Yet
In that night before
With just the lights of the tree
So easy to see
A true and perfect Holy Night
A sight
Of pure bliss
That imagined kiss
Of a Divine moment
Still sparkling
In the night sky
And in the eye
Of every child
Before the sunrise
Becomes too wild
Maybe just a minute
But each bit
Just as precious
On that Holy Night . . .
Quite
(c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2021
This made me smile
Il Est Ne le devin enfant…
He is born the divine infant
Made my heart sing…
French Christmas carols…
Dance with song,
And instruments,
And children….
With animals and angels singing…
With Willie bringing his drum,
And lines like Pat-a Pan…
And Jeanette bringing the torch
To tell the village of the newborn baby…
Then there is Angels singing Gloria…
And my soul soars in that song….
But the crown of French carols
Is the beautiful song
O Holy night….
It will take your breath away…
The one that makes me smile
Is the one about the animals
Paying homage to a baby in a manger…
Saying Jesus our brother kind and good.
It is the oldest of them all….
Nine centuries it has been sung…
So come one and all to dance with me,
Bring your torches and let’s announce
The birth of a newborn baby…
Play our drums, and fifes and oboes,
Fill the world with lovely songs…
And join in as the angels sang
Come rejoice with me
A newborn King is born.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
December 13, 2021
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