How much of a prayer, December?
when green-handed ghosts
deal red cards of esteem,
their crushing shadows
with no amen.
the child inside creeps
around the once-upon-a-time,
with pine seamed dreams
and trinket world.
the calendar, just a paper bomb
with burnt edges,
ice storms, a great excuse for
playing hooky till
clemency is found by
the ides of March.
A contest entry
- If we make it through December... by Danna Hobart.
400 points, ended December 29, 2008, 16 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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I absolutely love the line: " the child inside creeps around the once-upon-a- time"
I think all can relate to it! It brings back good memories! Thankx!A very nice poem.
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Delightful write,C..My thoughts were engaged all through, as tradition puts the pressure on us from years past of what Christmas should be, and then what we would like it to be! If we are spiritual, we notice how that link to Christmas seems to have disappeared alot, yet the child within, full of wonder ponders in hushed silence....Dear poet an endearing creative write!Glad I came by
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wow
the pictures you paint with this are great! no wonder you are already a finalist! i love the upbeat ending too!
jingle
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A great combination of fresh imagery and well-chosen words. Very well done indeed.
Nice one,
Bill
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Very nice! You have some great allusions in here to Christmas symbols. Thank you so much for entering.
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My favorite line, "the calendar, just a paper bomb with burnt edges". It is a trinket world all green and red. Who decided it should be green and red? Hooky is so natural and somehow the season is born out by the human tradition we created. So much is meshed in memories for so many of us and some of it is spiritual, some far less than that. But the memories all seem to confuse and intermingle for me. Yet, most are warm, and not cold. I don't know where this takes me, I really can't say completely. RC
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Truer words were never spoken. Get the hot chocolate going and a fire in the fireplace. Time to hunker down here in the Great Plains.
Great poem. So well written. You always amaze with your talent and skill.
Stay warm.
Garrison
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