Hi everyone,
Today happens to be my 1,000th post since starting the blog in 2009. Thanks to one and all for being part of it.
Now it’s my pleasure to feature a Christmas poem by Joy Acey.
Happy Holiday
May this season bring your happiness and plenty of joy
With buckets of love and presents for each girl and boy.
May your cocoa have marshmallows to drink by the fire,
May you have all that you can desire.
May your tree be the tallest with flashing bright lights
And may your world be calm without any fights.
May the birds at your feeder find plenty of seed
And may you have everything that you might need.
May the soldiers working far off in war zones
Get the job done so they can come home.
Let the gas prices drop so you’ll drive your car
Or maybe the bus can take you far.
May scientists searching for a discovery
Find the clue for cancer recovery.
May they cure Alzheimer’s and other diseases,
May hospitals empty before it all freezes.
May children in Africa have the food that they need
And lots of clean water and books they can read.
May your stocks on the market increase in their worth
And may we all find peace on this earth.
May we all have jobs and significant work to do.
This is my Christmas wish for you.
by Joy Acey
*****
My thanks as well to Veda Boyd Jones for her Christmas memory, which I’m reposting here. Others who have added their talents are Jeanne Poland, Sarah Holbrook, Renee LaTulippe, Jane Heitman Healy, Julie Krantz, Cory Corrado, Steven Withrow, and Nancy Gow. For good measure I’ve included Mrs. Stanley’s Christmas, a story that I may have posted last year or the one before.
Whatever your faith or belief, I wish you well. May you be safe, healthy, and happy in the year to come.
David
*****
Our Talking Place
He was six when we sat close on the stairs together, I on the higher step, he on the lower.
“I don’t think there’s a Santa Claus. You and Dad are Santa.”
His voice didn’t ask a question. It did not accuse. It was a statement.
“You are partly right,” I said. “But you left out yourself.”
His eyebrows peaked, and his mouth raised higher on one side in that way of his.
“I believe in Santa,” I said. “Santa is the spirit of giving. And you are Santa, too.
How do you feel about that cup with Dad painted on the side? You had to get it.”
“He’ll use it every morning,” he said. “He’ll love it.”
“That is the spirit of giving…Santa.”
He smiled that self-satisfied smile of his and nodded wisely.
“Okay…Santa.”
“But we can’t call each other that around your little brother.”
Again he nodded as if we were high conspirators. “He’s too young to understand.”
by Veda Boyd Jones
*****
There’s a Glut
There’s a glut
Of Xmas stuff!
It struts
Jingles
Mingles
Tingles
Us to bits.
We’re saved by sleep
Quietly wait
To wake
To wonder
Child again.
by Jeanne Poland
*****
December comes.
I non-stop-shop.
To guard against a yuletide flop.
When all the gifts I give — go back.
I sigh. But, hey —
Who’s keeping track?
What do you give to those who have?
Computers, bikes and skates —
Enough sweaters to warm Cleveland,
VCRs and tapes.
Sneakers, games and books,
magazines and jeans.
What could Christmas bring
That’s well within my means?
What if I give you patience
the next time you get stressed?
What if I say, okay,
I know you did your best.
The next time you fall short,
what if I lend a hand?
Or if things get confused,
I help you make a plan.
The next time you act smart,
what if I try to learn.
If my gift is kindness,
would that be returned?
copyright 1995, 2000 sara holbrook
*****
HOLIDAZE!
or, Santy Claws Gnu What Eye Kneaded
Lurching threw the do
on a too-toad Christmas mousse–
His name? I’ve knot a clew.
Eye think aisle call hymn Bruce.
The last thing eye recall,
eye was looking really sheik
and heading four a bawl
down buy Bolder Creak.
Eye slipped and hit my head
wile walking in the missed,
then awl my words fell out my ear
and now eye right like this!
Owe,
Witch is up?
Witch is down?
Witch which should eye use?
Until eye get my Christmas gift,
Aisle use witch won eye chews!
Eye opened up my ayes
and scrambled two my feat
and what too my sir prize
a voice said, “High, my suite!”
His close whir soft and read.
His presents gave me paws,
fore their upon his sled
was my idle — Santy Claws!
“Get up on this mousse.
Ewe took a nasty spilly.
Now tell me what ewe wont four Christmas
heir it gets two chili.”
Owe,
Witch is up?
Witch is down?
Witch which should eye use?
Until eye get my Christmas gift,
Aisle use witch won eye chews!
Eye gnu write aweigh
upon witch gift to seas:
“Awl eye wont four Christmas
is a dictionary, pleas!”
Owe,
Witch is up?
Witch is down?
Witch which should eye use?
Until eye get my Christmas gift,
Aisle use witch won eye chews!
(Thank ewe awl sew much–
this tail has run it’s coarse.
I’d sing ewe awl this song and such,
butt I’m a little horse – nay!)
by Renee LaTulippe
*****
Jane shares the first piece of writing she sold some time ago. It has been reprinted a few times elsewhere.
ADVENT
Amid final preparations
The world stops.
Hushed,
Waiting.
Star-quiet wonder
Pierced by a baby’s first cry.
How startlingly Jesus
Enters our hearts.
by Jane Heitman Healy
*****
Snowflakes
When snowflakes fall—
so soft,
so white—
I cup my hands
like bowls
of rice
to catch
these lacy
stars
of ice.
But when the sky—
so cold,
so bright—
turns out its
snowy
winter light,
I climb
in bed
to dream
all night.
by Julie Krantz
*****
Dear Santa,
It’s me, Eileen Fishburn again. I sent you a note, though I’m not quite sure when. But in it, I asked for a bike and a doll – and a real cooking oven. But that wasn’t all. I also asked, Santa, for skates and a book – a book about dancing. Oh, wait, let me look . . . The book is called Dancing, a Primer for Tots. I really do want it. Inside it are lots of pictures of kids doing tap and ballet. But that’s not the reason I’m writing today.
I need just one favor. I hope you’ll agree. For what I want most beneath my Christmas tree is a cute baby brother – one I can hold. I really do want one, but if it be told, a cute baby sister would also be fine. But hurry up, Santa, there isn’t much time!
So that’s all for now. Merry Christmas to you. I hope you remember I like chocolate, too. So thanks again, Santa. I’ll write you next year. And best Christmas wishes to all your reindeer.
Sincerely,
Eileen Fishburn
by Nancy Gow
*****
Each Time
Each time we pause for beauty –
a snowflake, a rainbow, a misty day
Each time we see our spirit in others
recognizing we are all one
Each time we forgive
letting the need-to-be-right go
Each time we treat living things
with respect, kindness, and love
Each time we glimpse the innocent child
beneath the masks we all wear
Each time we bring sunshine and hope
a warm touch, a friendly smile,
or a loving-kind thought
. . . it is truly Christmas-
the Christmas of caring and sharing,
giving and receiving.
© Cory Corrado
*****
Taunton River in December
The geese are eating day-old bread
From the children’s winter-mittened fists.
These ganders, intermittent guests,
If anything, are overfed,
For it’s the ducks we’ve come to stuff
With crusts of dough. In rills of slop
That spill above the river top,
Grass blades touched with feather-fluff
Skitter like mice beneath our boots
Beside the begging waterfowls
Which trail us, intimate as owls,
Nipping the tails of our snowsuits.
Greenhead mallard and his brown
And unrelenting hen advance
Orange feet, a feasting dance
One only meets this far from town.
by Steven Withrow
MRS. STANLEY’S CHRISTMAS
By David L. Harrison 
It was Christmas Eve and snowing. Mrs. Stanley’s feet hurt but she hummed a Christmas carol as she worked in her kitchen. Little John would be there soon. She hadn’t seen her grandson since last summer. The table set for four looked splendid with her best dishes. She hummed as she set out coffee cups.
She stopped humming when the telephone rang.
“Mama?” It was Joyce.
Mrs. Stanley knew something was wrong.
“We’re snowed in at the airport.”
“Oh no!”
Peace to all,
David
Children's Author David L. Harrison's Blog 