[Holly Martins]

I don't remember there being too many Christmas poems on the Sphere last year and I haven't seen any this year - your folders must be bulging with them. Hallmark verses particularly welcome. Like this one:


CHRISTMAS SHIPS

They stand off Margate, saving mooring fees -
sometimes three dozen wait. From close to shore
a Polish coaler smokes, and on the breeze
a carol’s whistled from a galley door.

Against a darkening horizon, tramps
and super-tankers waiting for a berth
light Christmas trees high up on masts, with lamps
to beacon peace at sea, and peace on earth.

[Kevin Greene]

Holly, that's rather nice. I can see and hear all of it!

Kevin

[Maryann Corbett]

Rhina Espaillat has a lovely one about trimming the tree alone--I'll go hunt for it. Perhaps someone else will find it before I do....

[Maryann Corbett]

I realize this is D&A, and the call is for our own Christmas poems, but we've also done this theme on Mastery. I'll hunt for the links and put them here.

And while I'm at it, here's a link to Anna George Meek's "An Old Man Performs Alchemy on His Doorstep at Christmastime."

[Marion Shore]

Multicultual Season's Greetings

Have a happy Hanukkah;
may Bodhi Day be bright,
Al Hijra bring you joy,
and Kwanzaa give delight;

a joyful Eastern Orthodox
Nativity to you!
Are there any I forgot?
Oops! Merry Christmas too!

[David Anthony]

Heilige Nacht

A broken tank stands sentinel before
the salient where Rundstedt’s soldiers tried
to force a passage as their army died
that bitter Christmas, 1944.
By then they knew they couldn’t win the war
but fought to thrust their enemy aside—
for comrades, or obedience, or pride—
and, failing, knew they could have done no more.

Did the Child, who all those years ago
was born in hope, now look on in despair?
Perhaps, though I believe it was not so.
My thoughts return to lonely valleys where
the human spirit suffered in the snow
but still endured. It stood unbroken there.

[Roger Slater]

HAPPY HOLIDAY

The holidays go by so fast,
  almost supersonic or
at the speed that light zooms past,
  Christmas, Kwanza, Hannukah,

so whether you believe or not
  in Macabee or Santa,
why not give it all you got
  and join the rhyming banter?

Quick, be witty, don't delay!
  You know we'd all adore a
dashed-off verse by New Year's Day
  when every last menorah

along with every Christmas tree
  must go back into hiding.
Thus ends this lame-ass poem by me
  to wish you all good tiding.

[Kevin Greene]

The one day of Christmas

I have reached the age where all is good cheer ...
though the hustle and chiming, each hard sell,
all conspire against my Little Lent,
the hushed waiting that begins the Church year.
And that's just fine. "Merry Christmas," I tell
them, biting my tongue that it was John sent

to shout repentance, make straight the disused
road that leads to beneath the star, our Light,
and His solemn promise. Yes, Anna's joy,
the sweet relief to Simeon's aroused
and aching--ancient--expectation, bright
herald of our salvation is this boy.

So I wait until Christmas, the one day
when I seem in sync with the rushing world.
And I celebrate, before the still green
trees get tossed in a gutter and the sway
of our delight turns to champagne and hurled
confetti, weak resolve, simple routine...

[R. S. Gwynn]

Wonderful stuff. I especially like Holly's and David's.

[David Anthony]

Holly's poem is not remotely Hallmark, of course.
A touch of Larkin in the loneliness of the North Sea, but the human warmth carries the author's unique voice.