A C*******s - well, OK, seasonal - plea..
Art brings a smile and a message.
Thus the art of ‘Christmas’ cards…
(and I use the word loosely,
as its public use is now disapproved…)
A folded card: that’s four smallish sides to fill.
An appropriate seasonal smile on Page One;
Page Two requires nothing,
blank but room for something else to say
in lieu of that family catch-up print-out page
your children will have helped with; or maybe not..
Page Three offers a seasonal message – but
watch out these days – ‘you can’t use
THAT for THEM…’ oh of course, they’re,
what exactly? Crypto-Buddhists?
Lapsed Amish? Richard Dawkins and
his, er, dour or smiling family ?
Page Four – the great let-out
for the card’s – and implicitly your –
abysmal grey vapidity…
it’s a charity card!
No money for the Hallmark millionaires!
So spare a thought this season, for
those who have to choose those
cards for charities…
non-denominational, non-racist,
politically correct but only in
a negative sense – no dolphins
or humpback whales with an
ambivalent Monna Lisa smile:
your Japanese friends might sense a slight…
For suspected closet Christians
where the charity’s along those lines,
it’s back to symbol and the catacombs
and secret worshippers – perhaps
a burning nightlight, hinting
faith, in outer, inner, darkness?
or if that’s risky, then the January snowdrop,
suggesting hope, continuance..
for children’s charities, you can risk
a teddy bear – so far, no pulpit East or West
has denounced him as a capitalist, or as
American as Roosevelt…or an
endangered species thus dismissed…
but keep the smiling children off the card..
their faces might betray leanings
towards skin-colour preference,
adoption difficulties…
The 25 charities who have grouped together
as the '1959 Group’ have risked this year
a Santa, face hidden but for pinkish nose…
cavorting on the ice, accompanied
by an antlered orchestra;
I guess the charities for multiple schlerosis,
epilepsy, autism, lifeboats, have agreed…
the rink-edge board behind him coyly
says ‘Merr….stmas’…hmmm, close thing…
The glorious sunlit barn-end in the snow
of a Massachusetts farm, ‘printed in USA,
finished in Canada’…uh? … tells us that
the year moves round; nature, seasons, farm work
always with us; as it was in Bethlehem;
how sweet the fresh, clean manger smells!
we turn as always, to Page Three;
where heart warms heart with written words;
taste, politics, social obligation,
have no place here; it’s simply, love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
On Not Sending Christmas Cards
Dear Friends –
for friends you are, and friends
you will remain –
I’m not sending any cards this year –
so of course, I do not deserve to receive any,
by the human law of tit for tat…
So if you’re sending me a card
because you sent me one last year
and think I’ll notice if you don’t -
don’t bother.
If you’re sending me a card
just because I sent you one last year-
I don’t want it. Just don’t bother..
If you’re sending me a card
because we haven’t seen each other all the year,
maybe we should arrange to meet? Or
maybe we simply haven’t anything more
to say to each other?
Maybe we’re happier leaving it that way?
Don’t bother with a card..
If you're sending me a card
because - it's part of Chrismas fun -
and open hearts, and memories -
then, bless us every one...
If you’re sending me a card
because you never sent one before
and feel the urge – I’ll be delighted;
and if you don’t get one in return –
rest assured, that I’ll remember, and
we’ll probably soon meet;
and know: you have enrolled yourself
as my friend, anyway,
by that warming thought..
If you’re sending me a card
because you have me so deep
implanted in your heart
that your love for me is beyond a printed word –
then that’s the way that I reciprocate your love,
how could I not? Just don’t expect mere words –
though there’s a chance
a poem may wing its way one day
as whitest swans and downy doves
know in the air and space above
their heart’s true home..
for, if ever, for however short a time
you were my friend, or I to you – you are that
always. Always. This
is what the heart is for.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ode to a Blank Page
Ode to a blank page
It’s blue seemingly thin lines flying across the page
Each producing a small space to place your thoughts on
Next lies the taunting red margin
Baring how sparsely you’ve done
You can strike the page with a single blow
Leaving a mark that did no good
Ode to a blank page
Why do you stare?
Taunting and shrieking in my ear
Emptiness fills the page
The blanks intimidate even the strong
How strong it is
To give a cut even to the toughest skin
Ode to a blank page
You know I’m jealous
How I despise all your characteristics
poem by Rachele ...duhh
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Two-dimensional dream
If you called me 'two-dimensional', I guess
I'd go away and think about it - is he
insulting me and if so, how?
Though in a sense, all of us here in cyberspace
are two dimensional, to each other?
There's one time, though, when two dimensions
would be a blessing: like today,
when the cutely photographed brochure
for IKEA, the flat-pack furniture giant,
thudded through the letterbox
with its cosy nordic world as fresh and clean and scented
as a newly-built sauna just fired up;
then the two-dimensional me
could simply slip like a well-trained bookmark
between page 24 - 'a welcoming family room'
and page 25 - 'a bathroom to relax in'
with a pine-scented sigh of relief
that I wouldn't have to drive ten miles,
queue out of sight of the parking-lot just to get in,
then after checking what was out of stock,
go home and try to put the bloody thing together
despite the missing bolt.
You'll find me there on page 25,
under the artfully arranged bubbles, relaxing
in my carefree, blond and nordic way,
smiling the smug smile
of the sterile two-dimensional.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Book Of Days
Your life is as a book
Written on the pages are the weeks
For you would give anything to take just one look
Into the next chapter, the next page
Each page is a new thought, a new dream
Sometimes it takes so long to pass that page
And sometimes nothing is as it seams
For you know you can not go ahead or back
You know you are where you are
You know you can't change that
As you read page to page, so near to fear
You write the chapters as you go, with each turn
Each turn, each move changes what's to come
And you know each moment could be the last
With this in mind you go so mumb
So numb to the touch, to the thought
You turn page after page
until you reach the 'end'
And only then, you are freed from the title
The title that has kept your thoughts bound, and tight
You turn the pages one by one
You take the pain, take the joy
Until you are done
And your story becomes another on the shelf of eternity
(1/24/2008)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Book
Have you ever opened a book?
And feel like it’s your life
As you watch each page go pass
You think where did I get lost
Each chapter is an ending
Of what was or what could have been
But each new chapter a beginning
Brings you hope to live again
But the hardest thing in life
Is as you turn each page
You must learn to pass the pain
That lies between the pages
Each chapter a lesson
In life’s little games
Then we smile at ourselves
As we close the last page
To look forward to anew
Of a new chapter in our life’
We smile and nod
At the new book of life
poem by Kaila George
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On Receiving A Christmas Card From Nora
A Christmas card from a friend far away
It takes me back again to boyhood day
She was a woman when I was young boy
Some forty years ago how time does fly.
She was a good friend to our family
And nice to know she still remember me
A friend and neighbour of the very best
And one of the kindest souls of Millstreet West.
That Christmas card from Nora took me far away
Back home to Millstreet Town and Claraghatlea
And Christmas was a special time of year
A time of Santa, Christmas fun and cheer.
A Christmas card from friend of years ago
And no friend like old friend we used to know
And a card from dear friend is a gift of joy
And it took me back to when I was a boy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Christmas - a despatch from the battlefield of the heart
Christmas is a-comin’ – but
this goose is gettin’ thin…
why do I feel I’m in the dock
of some unauthorised court of moral judgment
with the prospect of spending New Year
in some condemned cell of
personal opinion remarkably similar to
a Dickensian prison now electrified in just one wing…?
Forget the whole giving-presents thing – that’s
relatively simple – it’s those bloody
Christmas cards. Sent yours yet?
I’m with the angels on this one –
peace on earth and goodwill to all, uh,
persons… I’m fully paid up on
this one – so – can we stick with that?
or do we have to prove it with
a ready-printed message once a year?
It’s Christmas, dammit – maybe my year-round goodwill
is equalled by the whole other lot of you out there?
in which case, can we just take that as read,
a universal love-in on a level playing field?
It’s the subtext – ‘I’ve forgotten your personal existence
all the year, but look – Goody Two-Shoes is sending this
to show you up – and I’m posting it
so late that short of posting in the press
one of those announcements that say
‘This year Mr and Mrs Smith are sending
a donation to charity in place of the many Christmas cards
they would have sent to their many friends…’ – or
a postcard,
‘Now we’re back from our Antarctic trip,
Happy New Year! ’ you’re too late to reply…’
which means?
Or there's the subtext
'We're sending you a very
religious card with just the faintest hint that
although you may not have noticed it
when we had that blazing row
across the fence which has
simmered on all year, nevertheless
we're really more - well, everything -
than you bastards - however
this puts us, spiritually,
one up...'
‘Darling, Christmas cards – who sent us one
last year? ’ – say no more…
Would
‘No, we hadn’t quite forgotten you
in case you thought we had, and
I bet it’s mutual? ’ cards, tastefully
designed, be more fun? or
'Why should we even know your
name and address if we
hadn't once thought you worth loving and
if so, why should that change? '
I reckon one acid test for those you love
is, only think of sending cards to
those you’d think of phoning on
Christmas Eve or Christmas Day – and then,
do just that – no need to send a card as well?
Oh well, any excuse to say, I love you.. especially
if we mean it...
so, anyone who reads this (apart from those
who only read to check whether they’d
sent us one too) –
If an individual can claim to share
that universal love which, do we need reminding,
should live our lives for us all the year round,
please feel my universal love
blazing, blazing, towards you…
…‘what’s that, darling? Oh yes, I suppose
we’d better send them one, in case
they think we’d forgotten them… which evidently
we had, hadn’t we…? ’
Have a happy holiday and
a loving New Year full of peace
No really I mean it
poem by Michael Shepherd
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3 Three
A purple envelope
With a purple card inside
Fell out from the book
I took out from the shelf
Three purple flowers
Neatly pressed and glued
On the purple card
Smiled a weary smile
Slanted flowery letters
Flowing across the page...
'Throw open the curtains
Of the window of your heart
To let the sunshine dance
With the purple flowers...
Love you for ever.....!
03-03-03'
poem by Rowving Smith
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Blank Page
Blank page leave me be!
Blank page please stop taunting me,
reminding me of what I have failed to do.
Oh how I long to fill you,
to take up your very last line
with creative, riveting lyrics of mine.
Blank page stop harassing me!
I wish to show you my thoughts,
desires, emotions and all.
How difficult it is to answer your call.
Blank page how sweetly you whisper
tempting my pen to caress your paper.
I immaturely expect the verses to flow
then I realize that my thoughts are much too slow.
Blank page so often you defeat me
teasing and challenging until hours later
all that is left is the tiny dot
where my pen merely touched your paper.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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O, How I Smile!
O, how I smile!
I smile at the morning sun,
I smile when the day is done;
I smile at a cup of tea,
I smile at the old oak tree;
I smile at the summer flower,
I smile at each sudden shower;
I smile at the horned moon,
I smile for poor Lorna Doone;
I smile on early Monday mornings,
I even smile when I'm yawning!
I smile in slow traffic jams,
I smile when I'm eating spam;
I smile when I miss my date,
I smile when the weekend's late;
I smile at the minimum wage,
I smile at the blank white page.
I smile when my hawks aren't fed,
I smile in my empty bed;
I smile at all my enemies,
(Which makes them rather ill at ease) !
I smile at horrid screaming babies,
I'll smile if my dogs get rabies;
I smile if the nights get cold,
I'll smile if I get too old;
I smile if I'm feeling vague,
I'll smile with bubonic plague;
(When I think of someone dear,
I'll smile with a little tear) .
I'll smile when the Furies call,
I'll smile when the cities fall;
I'll smile when all the cards are dealt,
I'll smile when the ice-caps melt;
I'll smile when all the bees have died,
I'll smile when the Earth has fried;
I'll still be smiling, there's no doubt,
Even when the Sun goes out.
But as I smile I'd like to say,
I smile out to sea each day,
Where once the summer wind had ranged,
And then so very quickly changed,
To leave me stranded in this place,
While fixing fast my smiling face.
(CBB Aug 2011)
poem by Colin Breck Boardman
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0374 Seasonal greetings to...
In the spirit of the season
I'm working on a big-hearted,
multi-faith, inter-faith, lack-of-faith
religiously correct yet thinking outside the box (6 x 2)
all-inclusive but not syrupy or anodyne
seasonal greetings card
(or will the mention of season
offend non-seasonalists?)
here's the draft but no doubt
it'll draw comment.. feel free..
Seasonal greetings to All whom
I usually ignore:
Greetings to all our enemies -
please don't abandon your principles, I'm not asking that, but
can we draw a little nearer this year?
Greetings to all pagans -
we all would like to pop round for a merry drink or two and a hug
but can we do it indoors? Merry
mistletoe, etc. - wrap up well!
Greetings to all atheists -
enjoy your year all the more since
there's no One to thank except possibly
Intelligent Design?
Greetings to all agnostics -
should I hope that this year is
the year you make that big decision and
leap that big leap off
the fence of fierce, barbed intelligence - or
will life be the duller for it, for you?
Greetings to all humanists -
hope you feel really human all year and
don't lose faith in humanity, and please
spread it around especially
among those who have an over-developed
sense of sin...you could put the fun back in
fun-damentalist..
Greetings to all bah-humbugs -
who have better reason each year
to condemn the commercialisation
of the season - take the phone off,
disconnent the intercom at the door,
and have a really good time to yourself which
many of us pretend to envy you...
and
Greetings to all those who, while
not really believing in anything too much
or too little either,
go through the motions, wreck their bank balance
for the sake of others - may you
emerge from the season - nay -
live the whole year -
with an unexpected greater warmth of heart - for
you are the salt of the frozen earth
and I suppose finally
Greetings to those without a heart -
may you enjoy all
that you wish yourself
and who knows
(for PJ whose idea I stole - seasonal greetings and please forgive..)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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It's All Gravy Ft. Romeo
Remember this...
Romeo, Christina Milian
Verse1: Romeo
I remember when (when when when)
Let me turn back time on Big Ben
Let me tell you about the story from start to end
Release the ink from my Ballpoint pen, when it touches the page
It reveals the message that I send
Are you listening?
Let me tell you about my first and only christening
My eyes all glistening
With the innocence of a blank page
Life is like a blank page
Enjoy the beef, the strife, the rage,
Wait... let me turn the page
And continue to verbally burn the page
With fire flows that are capable of burning down the stage
Chorus: Romeo & Christina Milian
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy, baby...
Verse2: Romeo
Back in my school days
Was the cool days
School was the good old days, now
I tend to leave my teachers amazed
They never knew my hard work paves the way
When I talk about back in the days
The hard life
Everything will be all gravy if I play my cards right
Thats right
Mother said keep close friends tight
Keep frienemies in the distance, in the night,
Wait... let me turn the page
And continue to verbally burn the page
With fire flows that are capable of burning down the stage
Chorus: Romeo & Christina Milian
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy, baby...
Bridge: Christina Milian
Boy you told me not to worry 'cause it's gonna be all gravy
Boy you told me not to worry 'cause it's gonna be all gravy baby
Boy you told me not to worry 'cause it's gonna be all gravy
Boy you told me not to worry 'cause it's gonna be all gravy baby
Chorus2x: Romeo & Christina Milian
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy, baby...
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy
Remember when we used to say
Aint always gonna be this way
From lemonade to alize
Now its all gravy, baby...
Outro: Romeo & Christina Milian
The more money you make, the more money you make
The more money you make, the more money you make
Now its all gravy, baby
song performed by by Christina Milian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mary to merry
Mary is going to marry', said friend,
May be in days but not in weeks,
'what! I shouted back with anger,
yes, my dear, make no wonder,
Story as such never you carry,
Simple not but still I feel worry,
No word even to feel so sorry,
Why Mary thought? Just to marry,
'Was I not her so close friend? '
She Left no way for me to mend,
I thought hurriedly and put message
Will she buckle and come up with new page?
Friend put a card in the table and ran away,
Wedding card just lay in small tray,
I thought "Was there left no other way? "
Annul the marriage and keep at bay?
Friend just inquired "Will you not come to grace? "
join and enjoy with everybody's embrace,
I was startled and thought "I may miss but not you miss"
offer me nice words with simple grace,
I opened card and just read words
'Mary to marry with bless of lord'
Words were written with ink of Gold
'May I be always with you '
'What a foolish ' I could not guess,
Such a simple thing I made it mess,
What more could I expect than less,
punish me not for being foolish
Words were inscribed with golden ink,
I rejoiced it with no more blink,
I thought no more but went deep to sink
Eyes remained wide open and failed to wink,
I just ran to make a suit,
As I had made long pursuit,
Never had I dreamed of Mary to be mine,
She has decided to marry me is also fine
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Vow 2 (Right Words)
I've always been able to
now I don't even know what to do
it's never been a problem before
I've always been able to write about it
talk about it, now that it hit me
I'm somewhat speechless
I put pad to pen, nothing
an empty space on a white page
shouldn't this just write itself?
not a word or a single letter
I know it hit me, I feel it
it hurts yet I like it,
I smile at the sight of it
I've spent days and still on a blank page
it's stupid to say, but I give up
a pen is in rage to silence
to express this, these feelings
no words could describe
nor will I try
the only thing I can say for certain
that it is real, I Love you
this I vow.
poem by Kelvin Owusu
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Turn The Page
mmm yeh yeh
a special smile
a certain touch
i never had a love that i loved so much
when i look back you're everywhere
turn the page
you were there
my very best friend
my summer day
my only someone to depend on when i've lost my way
you came and answered my every prayer
turn the page
you were there
what would i do if some strange morning
i opened my eyes to find you gone
i can't imagine how i would survive that
find another reason to go on
my one sure thing
my solid ground
all i ever wanted was the love that we found
when i look back you're everywhere
turn the page
you were there
what would i do if some strange morning
i opened my eyes to find you gone
i can't imagine how i would survive that
can't imagine how i would go on
a special smile
a certain touch
i never had a love that i loved so much
when i look back you're everywhere
turn the page
you were there
you came and answered my every prayer
turn the page
you were there
song performed by by Aaliyah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blank Page
Blank Page
This new blank page, a word processor page, I cannot touch. I ought to leave it this
way, just look at it and dream of what I could have written on it. If I delet the words
I have written now, it will be blank again, no history, no crumbled up sheet of paper
in the wastebasket. For now it is too late but I might erase it when I come to an end.
My wife was in Johannesburg once for surgery, being born in Congo but light skinned
and travelling on a Portuguese passport, she boarded a bus for the blacks.
Great consternation, she was told by police to go on the white only bus since she
was Portuguese. Racism and anti Semitism are so stupid, it makes no sense, one race
thinks it is superior to others. Now it is the Moslems who are feeling the surge
of ignorance. We want them to be more like us and not Insist of doing their own things.
In Israel, for instance the European Jews feel vastly superior to Arab Jews, This in a state
that is an artificial construct. The culture of Europe in the Middle East. We know Israel,
as it exist today must come to an end. So there I said it, this white virtual sheet has been
befouled by an opinion no one wants to know about. So what do I do know? Erase this
page so it is blank again and I can write about the moon?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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No Poem In Here
this is a blank space reserved for an obituary of a dead poem
prose claims a space though in another glossy page.
plese turn to the next page
those non-poets like me please transfer to another room
this place is for dead poems for those who killed living poems this page this space is reserved for all of them.
we non-poets are moving out to another empty page
about to be added, if you can wait, mr. poet...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm Usually Happy...Tonight Not So Much
Not the man I used
to be…No more trust…
or faith
Rests inside of me
A bitter man
I’ve come to be
Devoid of faith
or charity
An empty vessel
A hollow shell…
poisonous as
A tainted well
A blank canvas
A sterile page
A muted man
of monstrous rage
I hate the world
That tacky stage
I hate the words
upon this page
I hate ugly words
Like snot and cooty
I guess you could say
That I’m kinda moody
No I’m not the man
I used to be
But it could be worse…
You could be me!
poem by David Whalen
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Blessings to You on Christmas Eve
Fire gradually warms the room,
Writing Christmas cards to you,
Children by the small river singing with joy,
Christmas ornaments decorate the windows,
Close the door, ignite the warm candlelight,
Close your eyes and make a wish.
A Sweet Christmas Eve comes,
I wish to be the snow falling on your Christmas tree,
To send to you the first Christmas Blessing of the year,
Wishing you and your family, a grand Season ahead! Merry Christmas!
Everywhere snow is floating down and fires glow,
I hope I am the first to send Christmas wishes to you!
poem by Jane Liang
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Beautiful girl (a reply to Octavio Paz)
Beautiful girl staring out of the page
of a magazine, your perfect body
is cast in lovely rounded lines
with a ravishing smile that catches the eye
of most men, how easily did you cast
your web over me, before I turned the page.
Yet I know you in touch and flesh
and have stroked your blonde hair
and at times read the sadness
hidden behind your charm
and know how you battled life
to find a way to care
when intelligence and education
couldn’t pay for raising
the two children that you love.
[References: No More Clichés by Octavio Paz.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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