The Clamor and The Crowd

The noise and stretch of holidays,
The clamor and the crowd –
The many and the much that’s done,
That’s busy, full, and loud —

These have their place among our joys;
But yet, I’ve learned by stealth
That sometimes what I really need’s
A moment to
Myself

Then Why?

The lights are strung, the tree is up – and still,
The hollowness and barrenness have grown;
With all of this to ward the winter chill,
Then why does he feel empty and alone?

The mirror in the other room would say
There is no corporal majesty to see,
And gentle night can’t alter brutal day,
Nor integrate the contradictory.

He looks for love, a number he has lost,
Amid the plastic lights and fading bars,
And knows the price, the amplitude, the cost
Of looking down, and missing out the stars.

Then why, indeed, does he still long and crave
When there’s no Who in Who-ville left to save?

What I Learned (4)

About Christmas.

The Christmas music was so beautiful
It made my cry

Then, suddenly
Another car cut me off in traffic

And I unleashed a stream of obscene invective
Towards someone who couldn’t hear me.

What I Learned?

I’ve still got a lot to learn
About Christmas

Christmas Party 1954

Thoughts on an actual Christmas Party photo from 1954.

The people in the old days didn’t know
Their days were old. They thought that they were new.
And they were right of course. It goes to show
How prejudiced we can be, me and you

We make a noise of saying all the time
We shouldn’t judge based on each other’s looks:
Then laugh at these old pictures thoughtlessly,
And cover-judge, not having read the books

Sleep

He seeks to balm his past…

Final Trio

For our final trio prompt of the year, write about any topic you wish, but make sure your post features a bookcase, something cracked, and a song you love.

= = = = =

Up on the aging bookcase
With bindings cracked and worn
Adventures of his childhood
That long ago were torn

From off the edge of innocence
To where dreams fall away
These travels, real in vividness
Now lost in yesterday

With so much guilt upon him
He seeks, to balm his past
The sound of children’s voices
Some harmony at last

As with the coming season
The skies begin to weep
He wishes he could tenderly
Put his
Lost child
To sleep…

Christmas Cat

Waiting again.

Ech, I have to wait again —
I just really do hate waiting.
She’ll be home soon – wonder when?
Ticking clocks are just so grating.

Dang that woman’s slow as Christmas.
It IS Christmas. Sorry, there —
But perhaps I can transport her
Using my
Amazing
Stare