Category Archives: poems about holidays

Nervous Nibbling Prior to the St. Patrick’s Day Party

5 Replies

 

Nervous Nibbling Prior to the St. Patrick’s Day Party

I’ve secured the decorations and I’ve bought the party food.
I’ve put out all the shamrocks and soon the whole damn brood
will descend en masse for the St. Patrick’s celebration.
I fear that by the end of it I’ll need a small vacation.

Green salad and green curry, green bean casserole, green beer.
Every single  item of refreshment that is here 
seems to be of verdant hue. I’m finding it most shocking,
and soon there will be over-drinking and much over-talking.

Everyday on March 17th, I find it is the same.
If we run out of green cuisine, I am the one to blame.
Every other day of March, I’m totally secure.
It’s only the 17th day I find hard to endure.

This green ice-cream is melting and I fear it will be wasted.
It cannot last much longer. It’s a shame it’s gone untasted.
It looks so delicious. There are bowls there on the shelf.
Do you think it would be callous if I ate it all myself?

Words for the day are ice cream, callous, shamrock, secure and everyday.

Easter Hunts

12 Replies

IMG_4046

Easter Hunts

My toy cannon muffled by an egg stuffed in its snout.
Easter grass and sugar eggs hidden inside and out.
My parents’ Easter soirees were things of grand design.
The pink nests were sister’s and the yellow ones were mine.
One disappeared behind the mirror, one behind father’s chair.
At the end, still one nest to be found, I knew not where.
Suckers, Peeps and sugar eggs, jelly beans and gummies—
sought out and stuffed in Easter baskets, then stuffed in our tummies.
My folks went to such bother, whereas I must say in truth, 
If I’d been asked, I’d rather have just had a Baby Ruth!

 

Prompt words this Easter Sunday are truth, soiree, disappear, cannon and mirror. (You didn’t make it east this time, folks!)

Scrooge and Your Christmas Vacation

8 Replies

IMG_5134

Scrooge and Your Christmas Vacation

Scrooge has turned surfing waves to ice and ski slopes into water.
Now he’ll ruin the rest of Christmas for your son and daughter.
He’s hacked into Kris Kringle’s map and hijacked all the toys—
the dolls and basketballs of girls, the hockey sticks of boys.
He’s eaten all the cookies—just stuffed them in his face.
The mistletoe and holly? Vanished, without a trace.

Yes, Scrooge is up to his old tricks, spreading brimstone and acid
over all your Christmas plans that seemed so set and placid.
If you want to thwart him, take your surfboards to the slopes.
Go skiing at the oceanside. Ruin all his dark Scrooge hopes.
Make merry with no mistletoe. Traditions rearrange.
Give Santa Claus a hotdog. He’ll appreciate the change!

In our modern screwed-up world, we’ve gone a bit astray.
We’ve forgotten the real purpose behind our Christmas Day.
That first Christmas was as humble as a Christmas scene could be.
No holly and no mistletoe. Much less frivolity.
The original gifts of Christmas were not placed beneath a tree,
for those first gifts that were given were not meant for you and me.

How the message has been altered as it came down the years
is that Christmas is for getting and disappointed tears
if we don’t get what we wanted. Expectations of perfection.
When we think of giving, we don’t see our own reflection.
Perhaps Scrooge brings the point across that joy is in the living.
So instead of what you hoped you’d get, concentrate on giving!

 

Prompt words today are Scrooge, map, tasteful, placid and water.

Interlopers

5 Replies

Click on first photo to enlarge all.

“I don’t know that there are real ghosts and goblins, but there are always more trick-or-treaters than neighborhood kids.”     —Robert Brault

Interlopers

They watch the clock, waiting for dark,
impatient for their All-souls lark.
Small ghosts and goblins screech and moan,
their ghastly act to finely hone.
“Eye of newt and toe of frog,”
Mother prompts, as off they jog—
little witches in Walmart capes
with itchy tags upon their napes.

Meanwhile, other ghastly things
soar in on brooms, flap in on wings.
They’ve found that yearly secret door
under the earth, under the floor,
and creaked it open. Joining the flood
who lust for treats, they lust for blood.
Who among us might ace the task
of sorting countenance from mask?

That little vampire, newly gone—
was his blood real or painted on?
“Double double toil and trouble,
cauldron boil and cauldron bubble.”
Were those lines recently rehearsed
or are these witches instead well-versed
in brewing up a recipe
of wing of gnat and eye of bee?

Which ghoulies real and which ones playing?
Which ones begging? Which ones preying?
What other night of any year
do we open doors, devoid of fear
for such strange beings? Who thinks of this—
Hershey’s kisses or vampire’s kiss?
A silly poem. When small ghosts boo, they
offer no real threat. Or do they?

 

IMG_8456

 

Prompts for today are the secret door, adage, screech, treat and clock. Since one of the prompt words was “adage,” rather than use the actual word in the poem, I used a quote (an adage of sorts) by Robert Brault as inspiration for this poem.

Leftovers

20 Replies

IMG_3941

In honor of Canadian Thanksgiving and looking forward to ours later this month, this poem is dedicated to Morrie and Diego, who profit from all culinary events in my house:

Leftovers
(Dedicated to Two Hopeful Dogs)

Crying for our leftovers won’t bring you any favors.
You will not taste their textures or masticate their flavors
if you stand there begging. Those winsome looks aren’t working.
Nor are your lapsing manners—your twisting and your jerking.

Hunger doesn’t justify your unwelcome behavior.
Before we even sat down, we saw Grandpa was your savior,
slipping you a turkey leg he had dipped in gravy.
(That leg I’d saved for leftovers–a turkey sandwich, maybe.)

Our home-cooked meal? Delicious. That you already know.
When I cooked the pies, I fed you scraps of dough.
The turkey giblets boiled for gravy, later went to you.
When I cooked the cranberries, you even ate a few.

You licked the pumpkin bowl so clean. You licked the beater blade
when I whipped the cream for pies. Dear ones, you had it made.
So when you beg for leftovers, I’ll just ignore your fuss.
You ate before the guests, dears. Leftovers are for us!

Prompts for today are winsome, manner, justify, leftovers and home.

Easter Morning Confession

17 Replies

10168030_704195286285264_6294929991689913394_n

Easter Morning Confession

“What’s all this hoopla over eggs
and animals with furry legs?”
My father chortled every year,
just loud enough for us to hear
while we lay scheming in our beds,
visions of rabbits in our heads
and candy eggs and chocolate,
wondering just where and what
we’d be hunting in the morning,
when, early and with no warning
we’d descend the long back stair
the earliest that we could dare
and set upon the living room
in the early morning gloom
to satiate that yearly lust.
We must have chocolate. We must!

Year after year, we slipped our gaskets
seeking to fill up our baskets.
Even now, that longing swells
when I hear those Easter bells.
So many years since I, a seedling,
commenced my yearly candy wheedling.

How many days, how many nights
did we anticipate delights 
well into our lower teens
of  Peeps and eggs and jelly beans.
and, best of all, that chocolate rabbit
became our yearly Easter habit.
Sitting regally on its ass
amidst the bright green Easter grass
in the baskets overflowing
with our coming and our going,
searching out that Easter stash
of candy, chocolate and cash.
A dollar hidden in one nest
was the very very best
find of the whole Easter season,
and in fact it was the reason
why Easter Sunday was the best—
our favorite of all the rest.

Later, to church, to sing and pray,
remembering just why this day
was celebrated, though I fear
that for us, year after year
there were more than one or two
kids sequestered in a pew
who were not thinking of the prayer,
but of layer upon layer
of goodies that awaited them
in baskets filled up to the brim.
For, though our hearts were pure and pious,
they could not dispel the bias
of a child’s rumbling gut
yearning for more chocolate!! 

The prompt today are egg, hoopla, seedling and longing. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/04/20/rdp-saturday-egg/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/04/20/fowc-with-fandango-hoopla/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/04/20/your-daily-word-prompt-seedling-april-20-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/04/20/longing/

Holiday Visitors

19 Replies

IMG_6687

Holiday Visitors

I’m playing host this holiday. Prospects are in the air.
Christine is at the table and Fred is up the stair.
She’s making lovely art and he’s sawing rhythmic dreams.
Everybody’s active on this Christmas morn, it seems.

The dogs are pacing jauntily. The air is crisp and still.
They’re hoping I’ll give them a treat. There’s a good chance I will.
The carcass of a chicken and the scraps from last night’s feast
would make a lovely picnic for a canine beast.

I’m putting words together when I should be giving pats.
They knock against the doorframe. They fidget on their mats.
I can hear the scraping of Fred’s key in the door.
It’s a human intervention. He’s advancing ‘cross the floor.

The dogs are his companions. They’re demanding my attention.
Christine joins in with their demands. I give in to the tension.
I’m going to have to socialize with people I can touch,
and I admit it’s company I enjoy very much,

But still I had to come here to spend some time with you
bloggers and Facebookers and you Tweeters, too,
for daily keeping company and keeping me on track.
I’m going to the real world now. Tomorrow? I’ll be back.

IMG_6684Fred woke up and is writing his poem, Christine got her picture colored. 

IMG_6694Diego got his treat and Morrie got his ball thrown.  All is right with the world.

Merry Xmas!!! Happy Hanukkah!  Joyful Kwanzaa.
xoxooxooxox

 

 

The prompts on this Christmas day are host, discovery, love and holiday.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/25/rdp-tuesday-host/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/25/fowc-with-fandango-discovery/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/25/your-daily-word-prompt-love-December-25-2018/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/25/holiday/

Skipping out on Christmas

10 Replies

IMG_9520

Skipping out on Christmas

Who cares if it is dark and dismal
and the weather is abysmal.
Why don’t we leave and take a walk.
We need to have a little talk.
If we’re lucky we might get lost
in this weather tempest-tossed
and have to find a little pub
to loft a glass and eat some grub.

Sure, at home the food is free,
but at home is also family!
Grandpa’s drunk and Grandma’s scolding.
Mother’s busy triple-folding
napkins into Christmas trees
and worrying Aunt Beck will sneeze
into the cranberries again,
‘cuz bird without them is a sin.

The kids are wrestling and biting,
as usual, their acts inciting
scolding mother, shouting father.
I always wonder why they bother
to gather every  holiday?
Once all the tawdry facts I weigh,
I wonder why they come together
every year, despite the weather.

So come on. Put your muffler on.
They’ll barely notice that we’re gone.
We won’t be yelled at, questioned, bossed.
I’ll pay the bill, whate’er the cost.
I need that extra Christmas cheer
that can be purchased beer by beer,
as we ponder that conundrum dumb
of why, each year, we also come!

Here are the prompt words and links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/27/rdp-tuesday-walk/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/27/fowc-with-fandango-leave/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/27/dismal/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/11/27/your-daily-word-prompt-lost-November-27-2018/

 

Black Friday

7 Replies


Black Friday

Overwhelmed by shopping, I stay sealed up in my house.
When it comes to competition, I’m as timid as a mouse.
The melody of shopping ads swirl around my head,
but it’s a dubious offering. I’d rather stay in bed.

First stores opened at 9 a.m., then opened up at 6.
Shoppers camped outside all night to have the choicest picks.
When Kohl’s, Macy’s and Best Buy decided to open earlier,
Full of turkey, deprived of sleep, the crowds got even surlier.

Midnight is no time, my friend, to be out and shopping.
After feasting all Thanksgiving day, it’s time for rest and stopping.
Instead, the minute the bird’s picked clean,
they start the “Holiday” machine.

Shoppers trip over display elves
to get to fully-laden shelves.
Christmas trees drop balls and sway,
unequal to this shopping fray.

In a season meant to swell the heart,
good bargains may be ripped apart
by buyers intent on competing—
herds of sheep milling and bleating.

On Thursday, we give thanks for all
we’ve been given, then have the gall
at midnight, to swarm out the door
to hit the mall and buy some more!

You can hear the fuss and roar
the minute you approach each store.
Shoving, elbowing and gripping.
You can hear the garments ripping!

But I remember days of yore
long before the blood and gore,
when Christmas “giving” was more laid back—
a doll for Jill, a train for Jack

purchased from Sear’s catalogue,
or “Monkey Wards.” Perhaps a dog
or kitten in a wiggling box.
Perfume for Mom. For Dad? Some sox.

And it was done. No buying fury.
No fuss or bother, strain or hurry.
“Good will to men” the Christmas reason
before big stores usurped the season!

Steve Cutts has made a wonderful animated film that perfect illustrates this poem.  You can see it HERE.

The prompt words today were shop, melody, dubious and overwhelm.  Somehow they seemed to want to come together to produce this poem. Here are the links. Tell us what they say to you!

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/23/rdp-friday-shop/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/23/fowc-with-fandango-melody/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/23/dubious/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/11/23/your-daily-word-prompt-overwhelm-November-23-2018/

“My” Day

11 Replies

The prompt today is willy-nilly.  Now, what would you say the chances would be that I’d have written a poem that already contained that word?  If you are thinking practically nil, then you are WRONG!  Not only did I write a poem containing “willy-nilly” over two years ago, but it is even in the title. The assignment then was to talk about a holiday created in my honor and to describe it all—music, refreshments, decorations and who would come.  Here it is, warts and all:

A Holiday Most Willy-Nilly 

My namesake day would be a dilly.
Simply not run-of-the-milly.
For the concert, I’d have  Willie
and resurrect Milli Vanilli.
Kind of music? Rock-a-Billy.
For refreshments, I’d serve Chili.
Though the terrain would be most hilly,
they’d travel over rock-and-rilly
for races of both stud and filly,
and poets, fleet of tongue and quilly,
reading poems both sage and silly.