There’s a tumbling of sprouts mini green baubles spilling over the kitchen floor from the punctured paper bag a reindeer’s snack has caused the tear as if anticipating the sound of sleigh bells but the only sound at the moment is sobbing and swearing the self-imposed pressure building before you can relax you have a hundred jobs to do but Christmas isn’t all on your shoulders grab a drink and take a seat a deep breath to slow down like snow falling everything will be okay.
Hey everyone Merry Christmas Eve Eve. Thanks for taking the time to stop by and read the penultimate advent calendar poem for 2022.
Here’s a quote from one of my favourite Xmas movies, The Polar Express “Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see.”
I slip into the comfort of old Christmas movies like John & Hans tearing up Nakatomi Buddy finding his family and a new job George finding help from Clarence Frank Cross reuniting with Claire and a boy in blue dancing with snowmen the nostalgia is like hot chocolate and warm hugs it’s hard sometimes to step away.
Thanks for stopping by today to read number 20 in the advent calendar. I hope your week is going well and that your all sorted for the festivities.
Snowmen standing in front gardens waving at passers-by who cling on to fenceposts tentative steps on glass concrete some have dogs that pull on the lead and drag like huskies along the glittery cycle path.
If you see something that you find amusing don’t be afraid to smile. I hope your weekend has been well spent, less than a week to Christmas!
Holly berries gleam
in the bewitching winter blue-light
ruby red and alive
held tightly in the arms
of emerald flames burning darkly
all along the hedgerow
to live with passion
Thanks for stopping by to check out day 4 of the Advent Calendar of Poems I’m creating.
He sits with sadness in his eyes, mercury-blue and moist, no light shines on his face, apart from the moon, who cups his cheek, from her perch in the sky, she understands melancholy, but he ignores her offer of help, turning away from her slender illuminating fingers, instead he pushes the pain down, burying with the rest of his misery, he shouldn’t show emotion or cry, that’s not what men do, how many times does he need to be told.
He takes a breath, agitating the mercury with woollen sleeves, he sweeps away the tears, then paints a watercolour happiness over his face, just in time, for his wife has returned to him, and when she asks how he is, in reply, with all his strength, he let’s a tear fall and tells her how he feels.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I am big supporter of men’s mental health and this deals with men being able to open up to their partners.
My palms are worn leather handling hammer and chisel the sinew in my forearms is taut carrying marble creates strength my neck stands tired yet agile from always looking upwards but my days of crafting pedestals is over so I’ll wait for my body to reset and return to an even keel the cost of marble is too much once it’s been etched it can’t be returned even though I probably value the material more than the people I’ve placed upon it I’ll craft myself an armchair to rest and read on and watch the pedestals crumble.
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. If you want to read more, feel free to browse the site.
The last of the dahlias were picked last week ruby red, imperial, majestic they ruled the garden so to let them drown in the relentless October rain would have been sacrilege instead, we slipped them into a glass-vase coma keeping them alive until scarlet turned to rust and petals slipped away and we were ready to say our farewells
softened stems were carried and placed among the compost pile so memories of their life can grow a new family of flora and their majesty return.
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. Please feel free to have a look around my site for more of my work.
Opportunity rasped repeatedly at my door knuckles bloodied, bruised and broken until they were incapable of knocking again I chose to open up once silence fell with head bowed I took it’s palms in mine and healed sores with words ‘Why didn’t you answer ?‘ Opportunity asked and in my mind the truth was told – ‘there are far more deserving than I‘.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I hope you enjoyed it. If opportunity knocks, always answer because it may take you to places you could only dream about.