The Season Of Joyful Giving
Why would anyone expect a thief,
Accustomed and raised by other thieves to greed...
Should have a sudden change of heart.
With an acknowledgement felt deeply of their misdeeds...
To overnight see a light brightly as upon them it beamed.
Just because it happens to be the season of joyful giving.
Especially when all through the year witnessed,
And those many years that have come to pass...
All those who have fed their needs selfishly,
As if weeds let loose on lush green grass...
Have done nothing but to show an ability,
To feast exclusively as if born to rehearse from birth to do it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy Holidays To All
The season for the joyful,
Brings with it a spirit of happiness lifted.
And those memories within us,
That seem never to cease...
As another year appears to draw to an end,
With promises to inspire...
An anticipation of gladness that begins.
The season for the joyful,
Brings together those far and near.
In a celebration all can share...
Felt as brisk winds fill the air,
With a freshness sought in the atmosphere.
And a witnessing of an acknowledgement...
There is an infectious feeling of cheer.
Happy holidays to all.
And to all those blessings received.
To indeed know those blessings to us come,
With an intent to keep desiring in our wishes...
That everyone this season before it leaves,
Discovers the connection between joy and faith.
And this comprehension is kept to please!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Big Brother (Life Poem)
I see the green grass with autumn leaves
The season of change and naked trees arrives
Again – without thinking we see the continuity
Knowing Christmas is around the corner
The birth New Year starts the cycle
After the death of the old year
And some of our past friends
Whose passing was real
Too real for
Comfort.
How
Do
We
“Know”
What is real
When everything
From movies to magic
Is just imagery of imagination?
The TV a parade of our new enemies.
1984 “Big Brother” is now a reality show
And CNN is our reality of disasters and wars
Until we visit the place and see that we are told
What our “Big Brother” wants us to know.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Taught To Fear And Suffer
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught not born,
To give.
Taught not born,
To take.
Taught not born to be of benefit to others.
But many bigots interfere...
With an infliction of their insecurities,
That smother one another.
Some are taught they are better than most human beings.
With a stunting of their own growth,
In isolated dreams.
And then their are those who confront others,
With obvious legitimate needs.
Ultimately to suffer from these misdeeds.
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught to greed selfishly!
Taught to deceive and steal like thieves!
And taught to cheat to succeed...
No matter who does the suffering and bleeds.
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Reason For The Season
The shepherds are lit
A star in the sky
On the outskirts of town
A new baby cries
No room at the end
No crib to be found
Oh but look at him now
He is the reason for the season
He is the light that shines on our lives
The baby Jesus born in God's grace
So we all might rejoice on this day
He is the reason for the season
It is a time for presents and toys
Tales of Saint Nick
Tidings of joy
As we celebrate the miracle birth
Oh right here on this earth
He is the reason for the season
He is the light that shines on our lives
The baby Jesus born in God's grace
So we all might rejoice on this day
He is the reason for the season
He's the reason for the giving
The joy thats never ending
That comes on Christmas morning in the eyes of a child
It's what it means to me and you
That's the true meaning of this time
Oh this time
He is the
He is the reason for the season
He is the light that shines on our lives
The baby Jesus born in God's grace
So we all might rejoice on this day
He is the reason for the season
He is the light that shines on our lives
The baby Jesus born in God's grace
So we all might rejoice on this day
He is the reason for the season
song performed by by Lonestar from This Christmas Time
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let The Sun Shine - TRIOLET
Let the sun shine brightly each day,
Warming us deeply in our soul,
We are happy it's here to stay
Let the sun shine brightly each day,
Giving our earth a lovely ray,
Having found its own final knoll,
Let the sun shine brightly each day,
Warming us deeply in our soul.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Don't Tell Me About It
Don't tell me about it life can be unfair
The homeless and paupers have never been rare
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
The victims of hunger and war and disease
Don't tell me about it I already know
That where weeds are abundant the grass does not grow
'Tis a near and impossible climb to success and renown
For those who are born and raised in the poor side of town
The landscape around us destroyed by men of greed
Those who worship money are not a rare breed
Where pollution is rife there is only decay
For the greed of the greedy we all have to pay
Don't tell me about it I already know
That the seed of a parsnip into a carrot doesn't grow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The May Flower Tree
I was walking lone there,
Where we once had been.
I sought the house we lived in,
In the lush lush green.
Perhaps inmates out, I thought,
As none I could see.
She has been haunting ever,
Where's May Flower Tree?
Looked around and discovered,
Ah! she lost her grace!
Hugged her with my eager hands,
Alone at that place.
Touched her old bark earnestly,
Felt the touch of past.
Childhood cried in deep deep pain,
Days crept in we passed.
Suddenly the tree turned green,
The Sun shone brightly.
I saw the May Flower Tree,
An emblem of Infancy!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Sunday Morning Despite the Hectic Shedule
today the mountains are well dressed
with green grass and trees
the flocks of sheep and goats and cows
crowd with its abundance
the sun shines brightly and the sea afar
is a horizon so tranquil
the birds are coming to feed on the grains
clouds meet on the top of the hill
today all of them are joyful
praising the wonders of creation
today God is felt.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If I come Again......
If I come again in
This beautiful earth,
I'll be a grass-flower,
In Nature's heart!
In the lush green meadow,
I'll laugh and chat with wind.
The breeze will pass me,
and tell the gossip
of the motley flies...
But, I'll play then with
the golden light of
morning, and with the
baby grasses, nodding
my head to say, yes to,
their every childlike talk.
I want to stay as small,
as the tiny flower of grass,
to equip the earth with
my innocent soul!
I'll stretch wide, wide,
to join the absolute whole!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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0004 The gifts which gifted on..
This is the story that the tribe,
sitting together crosslegged,
children at their feet,
tell about
the first gift
a man so loved his wife
that one day at that season of the year
when the sun is so low in the sky
that there is fear that it might disappear
and only the wise old men, say
this is the time for hope and prayer
and the sun will return the stronger
and we, the more joyful
this man so loved his wife
that one day he brought home
besides the daily food,
a beautiful thing he found
and gave it to her
because he loved her
and she, overcome by this
new event, kept that
beautiful thing carefully hidden
to remind her of his love
for many years
until one day, because
she loved her son so much that
she in turn gave that beautiful thing
to him
and the moment she handed it
to him, the beautiful thing
shone more brightly than the sun
so bright that he shone too
and the tribe say, they learnt from this
that gifts received are gifts unearned
but come from grace itself; they are not
magic gifts until
you pass them on to someone else
and then you are indeed blest by them
and grace surrounds you as the sun
this is what that tribe say
sitting there crosslegged,
the children at their feet
at this season of the year
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Season For Sharing
This becomes a season to give, to all with whom we daily live,
And to friends, near and far, to show them how loved they are,
A special time for us to share, our heart showing them we care,
A sharing of our gifts and love, is what this season is made of.
A season souls are behooved, this as many hearts are moved,
To display a different attitude, when moved by a festive mood,
From a special feeling in the air, moving hearts to fondly share,
As hearts and minds conceive, their desire to give and receive.
There’s indeed another side, one from which many people hide,
Which is the very initial reason, why we today have this season,
Observing throughout this earth, every year a very special birth,
The very birth of Christ, our Lord, which by many goes ignored.
This Season that many celebrate, stirs in some a sense of hate,
In hearts where there’s no place, for our Lord’s Love and Grace.
This isn’t true for those of us, who have, in Christ put their trust,
All Believers as the Saviors bride, share His Truth stored inside.
All Truth we’ve stored in our heart, we’re sent by Christ to impart,
The fuller sense, Truth and reason, for all this Christmas Season,
That child born as Jesus Christ, was born to give us Eternal Life,
And when that Truth you believe, New Life in Him you will receive.
(Copyright ©11/2009)
Life Of The Leaf
Colouring the seasons up and down,
and all around with green, red and brown,
on the end of the fingers of trees,
we dance together in the breeze,
going to and fro, always in a flap and a flutter,
whilst on the ground we block the gutter,
back to the soil which gave us birth,
decomposing upon nature’s earth.
During the seasons of summer and spring,
we suckle upon the light the sun does bring,
giving our grand mother tree,
some of Mother Nature’s energy,
absorbing her warm and loving kiss,
whilst giving you oxygen from photosynthesis,
for you see the air that you breathe,
is our gift to you, which you gladly receive.
Once we’ve died and settled upon the grass,
where the wind did come to pass,
you show us great respect,
by bending knee in genuflect,
with a broom or rake in hand,
you return us to the soil and sand,
so once again we can feed,
our mother tree, so she can seed,
and give birth to the next generation,
of leaves, who then dance in life’s celebration.
poem by Dale Mullock
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At Toledo
The little stones chuckle against the fields:
'We are so small: God will not think of us;
We are so old already, we have seen
So many generations blunt their ploughs,
Tilling the fields we lie in; and we dream
Of our first sleep among the ancient hills.'
The grass laughs, thinking: 'I am born and die,
And born and die, and know not birth or death,
Only the going on of the green earth.'
The rivers pass and pass, and are the same,
And I, who see the beauty of the world,
Pass, and am not the same, or know it not,
And know the world no more. O is not this
Some horrible conspiracy of things,
That I have known and loved and lingered with
All my days through, and now they turn like hosts
Who have grown tired of a delaying guest?
They cast me out from their eternity:
God is in league with their forgetfulness.
poem by Arthur Symons
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At Toledo
The little stones chuckle against the fields:
'We are so small: God will not think of us;
We are so old already, we have seen
So many generations blunt their ploughs,
Tilling the fields we lie in; and we dream
Of our first sleep among the ancient hills.'
The grass laughs, thinking: 'I am born and die,
And born and die, and know not birth or death,
Only the going on of the green earth.'
The rivers pass and pass, and are the same,
And I, who see the beauty of the world,
Pass, and am not the same, or know it not,
And know the world no more. O is not this
Some horrible conspiracy of things,
That I have known and loved and lingered with
All my days through, and now they turn like hosts
Who have grown tired of a delaying guest?
They cast me out from their eternity:
God is in league with their forgetfulness.
poem by Arthur Symons
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When The Economy Started To Slip
When the economy started to slip,
Who was not aware of it?
And...
Who pocketed the funds,
Away from everyone?
When the economy started to slip,
Who was not aware of it?
And...
Who pocketed the funds,
Away from everyone?
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Who fed their greed.
And who didn't know,
Who were the cheats.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Who fed their greed.
And who didn't know,
Who were the cheats.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?
When the economy started to slip,
Who was not aware of it?
And...
Who pocketed the funds,
Away from everyone?
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Who fed their greed.
And who didn't know,
Who were the cheats.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?
When the economy started to slip...
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?
When the economy started to slip...
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?
When the economy started to slip...
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Before Seen in Eyes That Sparkle
The teaching of one accustomed,
To hiding in the shadows
That a reaching for stars,
Will lift a broken heart
To begin a mending,
That slowly ends
A feeling of desperation.
Does more for the confidence,
Of the one who convinces.
Something witnessed,
Flourishes with encouragement.
And the dawn
That removes a darkness once held
Sheds with a renewed freshness
That inspires two,
In a development of a closer relationship.
Unexpected.
A light never before seen in eyes that sparkle,
Is felt.
And a melting so obvious becomes shared.
Something witnessed,
Flourishes with encouragement.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Green(nature made me)
Untame, Wild, Free
Nurtureing, Loving, Dreaming
Affectionate, Intelligent, Discerning
Seeing, Hoping, Living
Growing, Learning, Lovely
Green
A reflection of earths beauty
Born of earths sowed seeds
Exactly what nature intended me to be
Graceful, Understanding, Forgiving
Stubborn, Strong-spirited, Heavy-willed
A burrden to be carried
Watching them live
Feeling them die
I am growing
I am green
I am everything nature intended me to be
I fell to sorrow, things were out of place
But sudden light was shed
To remind me how i was bred
I now remembered that life should not be wasted
But cherished, i shouldn't try to throw it away
It was a gift given to me
And to the giver i have a duty
To tend the trees, all living things
My love, my passion, my blood runs green
My scent, sensual as natures serenity
Given to me by natures generosity
Blessed i a, to have someone that loves me
I promise never again to act so selfishly
My life is worth keeping
Thank you for forgiving me
I was born of nature, i was born green
poem by Guarded Heart
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Once Upon A Christmas
Once upon a christmas far away in bethlehem
Mary being great with child had no place to lie down
So joseph found a stable in which mary had her child
Once upon a christmas was the birth of jesus christ
Once upon a christmas in a manger far away
A king was born his palace was a manger filled with hay
His royal robe was swaddling cloth a halo was his crown
Once upon a christmas away in bethlehem
And all the world rejoiced because the king was born at last
A savior had been promised now it had come to pass
And the joyful news that he was born spread quickly far and wide
Once upon a christmas was the birth of jesus christ
Once upon a christmas from the far east wise men came
With gold and myrrh and frankincense to praise the newborn king
And shepherds left their flocks and came to see and worship him
Once upon a christmas away in bethlehem
And all the world rejoiced because the king was born at last
A savior had been promised now it had come to pass
And the joyful news that he was born spread quickly far and wide
Once upon a christmas was the birth of jesus christ
Once upon a christmas far away in bethlehem
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Fifty Year Old Woman
That fifty year old woman
she is someones mother
that fifty year old woman
she is someones lover
them fifty years of her life
unseen by a cover.
Covered by the leaves
from the autumn trees is the grass
surrounded by blue tape
and nosey people who pretend to pass
a group of actors walk by
they have come from a history class
to make history new
with conversation with questions to ask.
A fifty year old woman
in an autumn so cold
a fifty year old woman
seen dark winter unfold
them fifty years of life
it is all we are told.
The actors, they didn't get any information
they did not get pictures
nothing known about the situation
nothing at all to discuss
fifty years of age is all thats said
on the morning paper on the fifty bus
thats all thats said
a fifty year old woman, shes found dead.
That fifty year old woman
shes not someones mother
that fifty year old woman
how she had no lover
them fifty years of life
unseen by a cover.
That fifty year old woman
she was quoted in the paper today
that fifty year old woman will be gone tomorrow
the writers they will show no sorrow
because its the way things work
as people pass
she no longer lies on grass
shes covered in dirt.
poem by Daniel McCann
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To Marjjorie and I
(This poem was originally written with
My non-dominate hand.)
She upheld the rising sun with the inner strength,
She felt so proudly in her heart, mind and soul.
The late summer breeze carried her spirit.
There was so much love in her heart,
She could generously give to the ones she trusted, and cared for,
But so sadly, masked by the purplish thunderclouds,
A storm, obviously eminent,
Turned her heart upside-down,
Her innate sorrow, exacerbated.
She ran from the migrating wild geese.
She feared so deeply anything that could harm her-
Whether a sudden bolt of lightening striking,
Or simply being under a constant watch.
Her spirit adoringly danced with the change of seasons,
As fairy dust scattered from the sky above.
She ran with the morning wind,
Down the path by the creek beside,
Hoping to find love, harmony and peace of mind forever.
A smile crept up upon her face,
As she felt a chill in the air.
The change of season had just begun.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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