Also see Christmas Humor, Christmas, Christmas Fun (includes card making) and Winter.
) ) ) ) ) (_) (_) (_) (_) (_)
.-'-. .-'-. .-'-. .-'-. .-'-. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
~~`---'~~~ ss ~~~`---'~~~ ss ~~~`---'~~~ ss ~~~`---'~~~ ss ~~~`---'~~
( M.E. Miro )
Christmas is more than a day in December
It's all of those things that we love to remember
Its carolers singing familiar refrains
Bright colored stockings and shiny toy trains
Streamers of tinsel and glass satin balls
Laughter that rings through the house and its halls
Christmas is more than a day in December
Its the magic and the love
That we'll always remember
Poinsettia smiles in winter.
People know Christmas is nearer.
Yellow pistil with red leaves appear
In all greeting cards every year.
Carols and candles aglow in the night,
Hearth fires blazing all cozy and bright,
Red-leaved poinsettia, white Christmas rose,
Ice skaters whirling on ice as it snows,
Sleigh bells and Santas,
Mistletoe magic and warm memories,
Angels all bringing glad tidings anew,
Season's best wishes especially for you!
Memories are a special house
We build inside ourselves
Where love and laughter linger,
Where all our past life dwells.
On holidays like Christmas
We can draw upon the store,
Reliving happy times
And feeling all that warmth once more.
Wherever we may travel,
This house is always there
To help to blend the old and new,
To build on . . . grow . . . and share.
This house can never get too full,
Just grow from floor to floor,
Because the joy of memories
Is always making more.
One rose for the times we've shared and the memories we've made
One rose for being someone I can trust
One rose for accepting me as I am
One rose for forgiving me the mistakes I've made
One rose for taking the time to listen even when you don't understand or agree
One rose for being there when I need you
One rose for letting me be there when you need someone
One rose for the hopes and dreams and feelings you share
One rose for your actions that speak louder than words
One rose for knowing when to speak and when to offer silence
One rose for your smile that brings joy into my world
And one rose for being one of life's most beautiful gifts
Twelve roses because you are important to me and I love you.
Christmas is a time of joy,
A time for love and cheer,
A time for making memories,
To last throughout the year
(Eva K. Logue)
A Christmas candle is a lovely thing;
It makes no noise at all,
But softly gives itself away;
While quite unselfish, it grows small.
I have a list of people I know, all logged in my computer,
And now at Christmas time I have gone to take a look.
And that is when I realize that these names are a part,
Not of the computer they're stored in, but of my heart.
For each name stands for someone who has crossed my path sometime,
And in that meeting they've become the rhythm in each rhyme.
And while it sounds fantastic for me to make this claim,
I feel that I'm composed of each remembered name.
And while you may not be aware of any special link,
Just meeting you has changed my life, a lot more than you think!
For once I have met somebody, the years cannot erase,
The memory of a pleasant word (or E-mail) or of a friendly face.
So never think my Christmas E-mails are just a mere routine,
Of names upon an address list, forgotten in between.
For when I do a Christmas E-mail that is addressed to you,
It's because you're on the list of people I'm indebted to.
And whether I have known you for many years or few,
In some way you have been a part of shaping things I do.
And now that Christmas has come, I realize anew,
The best gift life can offer is meeting people like you.
Each you filled day
that passes down my life
is so full of wonder
that Christmas is the rule.
Exceptions only come
When you're not here.
especially good today
was most especially you.
(Laurie Brignac, age 10)
Do you know why the pine trees
Stand so straight and tall?
How do they keep their branches
stiff and straight
And never stoop at all?
It really is a secret,
Which the north wind told to me--
That every pine tree hopes some day,
To be a Christmas tree!
(Winifred F. Walters)
Christmas may be many things
or it may be a few.
For you, the joy
is each new toy;
for me; it's watching you.
May your neighbors respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you
and Heaven accept you.
Santa comes on Christmas Eve
Seeking those who yet believe
Through a frosty winter night
In a sleigh with reindeer flight
Bringing joy to large and small
Merry Christmas one and all.
Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,
The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky looked down where
He lay--the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,
But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes.
I love Thee, Lord Jesus! look down from the sky,
And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.
(E. H. Sears)
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, good will to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
(Barbara Yerbury Filan)
I've done quite well, I must confess,
To ward off Christmas loneliness.
I've mailed surprises many miles
To start those special-morning smiles.
I've packed some food and clothes and toys
For less-than-lucky girls and boys.
I've sprinkled goodies on the snow
To feed small creatures we both know.
A service held by candlelight
Renewed my heart this winter night.
I've helped to decorate our tree;
The house glows warm for you and me.
With you beside me lost in sleep,
My life is full, my love runs deep.
Yet memory stirs a dream long gone;
I listen this December dawn
For childish whispers on the stair,
For tiny steps no longer there.
I like to visit Santa Claus
When Christmas time is near.
It's fun to climb up on his lap
And whisper in his ear.
He says, "My dear, have you been good?
Have you done what Mother said you should?
Do you brush your teeth and hair each day?
Are you kind to others when you play?
I listen to each question
And answer every one.
Although I am ashamed to say
I must say no to some.
But Santa never scares me;
He doesn't even scold.
He just says, "Try again, my dear,
You're a fine lad, I am told."
Gee, I like to visit Santa Claus
When Christmas time is near.
It's fun to climb up on his lap
And whisper in his ear . . .
What a tangled web we weave
When first we try to light the eave
A jumbled mess of bulbs and wire
Almost enough to uninspire!
But soon enough the job is done
We've even found the burned out one!
We've trimmed the tree and lit the hedge
And even strung the rooftop edge
And the dancing lights, both bright and clear
Mean Christmastime is finally here!
And standing back, the dancing light
Reminds us of that sacred night
When one bright star lit up the way
That led to where the Christ-child lay.
And gazing at the festive hues,
We hope it doesn't blow a fuse!
Humorous ending about a family joke:
And standing back, our tactless spouse
Says "Christmas threw up on our house!"
I'll find me a spruce
in the cold white wood
with wide green boughs
and a snowy hood.
I'll pin on a star
with five gold spurs
to mark my spruce
from the pines and firs.
I'm make me a score
of suet balls
to tie on my spruce
when the cold dusk falls,
And I'll hear next day
from the sheltering trees,
the Christmas carol
of the chickadees.
Christmas is for children--
at least that's what they say,
It's time of wide-eyed wonder,
a magic holiday
When candy canes and gingerbread
fill tummies with delight
And little sleepyheads try hard
to stay up through the night.
Yes, Christmas is for children-
anyone will tell you so.
The twinkling, colored lights on trees
make youngsters' eyes just glow!
Each package and each stocking
is approached with childish joy
And toys bring squeals of laughter
from each eager girl and boy.
Yes, Christmas is for children--
all they say is true.
How wonderful that at Christmas time--
grownups are children, too!
On window panes, the icy frost
Leaves feathered patters, crissed and crossed,
But in our house the Christmas tree
Is decorated festively
With tiny dots of colored light
That cozy up this winter night.
Christmas songs, familiar, slow,
Play softly on the radio,
Pops and hisses from the fire
Whistle with the bells and choir.
Tomorrow's what I'm waiting for,
But I can wait a little more.
(by Vivian Gouled)
There are gifts to buy,
And gifts to make,
But there are other gifts
And ready with a smile,
Doing things to please--
I've made up my mind
at Christmas time
I'm giving some of these!
(Elsie Melchert Fowler)
The wind is whispering secrets;
Its voice is soft and low.
There are white and wintry secrets
In the quiet-falling snow.
Hear secrets in the footsteps
Of the people on the street,
And in gay, ribboned packages
Of everyone you meet.
There are merry secrets twinkling
In the eyes of many a child.
Secrets kept by Mom and Daddy--
When you asked they only smiled.
Oh, our world is full of secrets,
Now steal quietly away
Till they open up like magic
On a wondrous Christmas Day!
(adapted from a poem by Helen Steiner Rice)
At Christmas time our hearts reach out to friends we think of dearly,
And checking through our friendship lists, as all of us do yearly,
We stop awhile to reminiscence and pleasantly review,
Special talks, happy times and things we used to do.
And though we've been to busy to keep in touch all year,
We send a Christmas greeting at this season of good cheer.
So Christmas is a lovely link between old years and new,
That keeps the fond of friendship forever unbroken and true.
(Warren D. Jennings)
The sleigh was all packed, the reindeer were fed,
But Santa still knelt by the side of the bed.
"Dear Father," he prayed "Be with me tonight.
There's much work to do and my schedule is tight.
I must jump in my sleigh and streak through the sky,
Knowing full well that a reindeer can't fly.
I will visit each household before the first light;
I'll cover the world and all in one night.
With sleigh bells a-ringing, I'll land on each roof,
Amid the soft clatter of each little hoof.
To get in the house is the difficult part,
So I'll slide down the chimney of each child's heart.
My sack will hold toys to grant all their wishes.
The supply will be endless like the loaves and the fishes.
I will fill all the stockings and not leave a track.
I'll eat every cookie that is left for my snack.
I can do all these things Lord, only through You,
I just need your blessing, then it's easy to do.
All this is to honor the birth of the One,
That was sent to redeem us, Your most Holy Son.
So to all of my friends, least Your glory I rob,
Please Lord, remind them who gave me this job."
(Curt Sytsma, Des Moines attorney and occasional poet)
From time to time, my rebel rhyme
Provokes from fan to foe
Surrounding globes of pointed probes
That prick, and even so
The hardest question of them all
Is what you pose to me:
Do I believe in Santa Claus
And is he there to see?
You're far too young to ask me this;
At five, you should believe
In every whimsy, wish and want
your dancing dreams conceive.
Your life should be a savings bank
Of candy, cones and kisses;
The day will come when you will need
That store of reminisces.
I wish that you had waited for
A year, a month or week,
But I would not deny you, Son,
The simple truth you seek;
And yet before I answer you,
I must make one confession:
I am a skeptic's skeptic, Son,
By practice and profession.
I don't believe the witness when
I put him on the stand;
I see the subtle games he plays
With sleight of verbal hand.
I don't believe the folks who weave
A politician's web;
Their creeds are no more stable than
The ocean's ancient ebb.
I don't believe the ad men when
They tout their sundry wares;
That magic cure-all is a ruse
And I avoid its snares.
I don't believe in half the things
My pious neighbors say
About the force Who rules the earth
And turns the night to day.
If faith had magic powers, Son,
I'd break its silly spell,
But if you'll crawl upon my lap
And listen very well,
I'll tell you by the gentle breeze
That whispers from above
That I believe in Santa Claus,
For Santa Claus is love.
I haven't seen old Santa, Son;
I doubt I ever will,
For he is like the welcome wind
That dashes down the hill.
But sometimes things you cannot see
Are felt with finer force,
And though I cannot snare the air,
I daily track its course.
I haven't seen old Santa, Son,
And yet I dare to say
That every time I see a child
Delight in Christmas day
And every time I see a grin
Erase an elder's wrinkle,
The glint that glows within the eye
Is Santa's certain twinkle.
When Grandpa Sytsma didn't have
The cash for Christmas toys,
The tree we chopped down in the woods
Was garnished with the joys
I never thought that I would get,
And if you want my guess,
The force that put those presents there
Was Santa--nothing less.
When some fine day you have a son
In years as yet unborn,
You'll see him stalk a tinseled tree
And leave the wrappings torn;
And then you'll see his eyes light up
Like Christmas stars above
And you'll believe in Santa Claus,
For Santa Claus is love.
In Baltimore there lived a boy
He wasn't anybody's joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
His character was full of flaws.
In school he never led the classes.
He hid old ladies' reading glasses.
His mouth was open while he chewed.
And elbows to the table glued.
He stole the milk of hungry kittens,
And walked through doors marked No Admittance.
He said he acted thus because
There wasn't any Santa Claus.
Another trick that tickled Jabez
Was crying "Boo! At little babies.
He brushed his teeth, they said in town,
Sideways instead of up and down.
Yet people pardoned every sin
And viewed his antics with a grin
Till they were told by Jabez Dawes,
"There isn't any Santa Claus."
Deploring how he did behave,
His parents quickly sought their grave.
They hurried through the portals pearly,
And Jabez left the funeral early.
Like whooping cough, from child to child,
He sped to spread the rumor wild:
"Sure as my name is Jabez Dawes
There isn't any Santa Claus!"
Slunk like a weasel or a marten
Through nursery and kindergarten,
Whispering low to every tot,
"There isn't any, no, there's not!
No beard, no pipe, no scarlet clothes,
No twinkling eyes, no cherry nose.
No sleigh, and furthermore, by Jiminy,
Nobody coming down the chimney!"
The children wept all Christmas Eve
And Jabez chortled up his sleeve.
No infant dared to hang up his stocking
For fear of Jabez' ribald mocking
He sprawled on his untidy bed,
Fresh malice dancing in his head.
When presently with scalp a-tingling
Jabez heard a distant jingling
He heard the crunch of sleigh and hoof
Crisply alighting on the roof.
What good to rise and bar the door."
A shower of soot was on the floor.
Jabez beheld, oh, awe of awes,
The fireplace full of Santa Claus!
Then Jabez fell upon his knees
With cries of "Don't" and "Pretty please."
He howled, "I don't know where you read it.
I swear some other fellow said it!"
"Jabez," replied the angry saint,
"It isn't I, it's you that ain't.
Although there is a Santa Claus,
There isn't any Jabez Dawes!"
Said Jabez then with impudent vim,
"Oh, yes, there is; and I am him!
Your language don't scare me, it doesn't -"
And suddenly he found he wasn't!
From grinning teeth to unkempt locks
Jabez became a jack-in-the-box,
An ugly toy in Santa's sack,
Mounting the flue on Santa's back.
The neighbors heard his mournful squeal;
They searched for him, but not with zeal.
No trace was found of Jabez Dawes,
Which led to thunderous applause,
And people drank a loving cup
And went and hung their stockings up.
All you who sneer at Santa Claus,
Beware the fate of Jabez Dawes.
The saucy boy who told the saint off;
The child who got him licked his paint off.
Christmas, the time of year
that has the impact
of a childhood story
and the dreams of the future
all rolled into the presents
that we give our loved ones.
It's a mystery that this sweet and sentimental poem could have been written by such an awful person. Joseph Kallinger was a serial killer who murdered three people, including his teenage son, and tortured four families. He committed some of the crimes with his 12-year-old son Michael.