I imagined when the thrift of Christmas skimps;
On the breadline of something as warmth is, I view!
From a portal of pleasures my lifelong limps
At the steadying but imminent funeral queue.
Remain from the doldrums refurbished as memories
Cascading like paper chains, starlight so far
There is nobody in, only goblins and fairies,
A fairytale maker who believes where they are.
Just a fireside view as the flickering embers;
Make coax of a thought from the shadow of death,
Giving warmth of a kind, and it is not December's
But a godly depiction of what time is left-
And the hospice however determines with care
With a warmth of a kind, in a spiritual sense,
That wherever I go, there is somebody there
To seep out the worrying with keen eyed pretence.
That my last words would fill me an eternal gift,
Of warmth of a kind, that are special to most
And my dying relents from the ashes they sift,
From the fire, not the grate, a spiritual ghost.
In a list
A contest entry
- The Christmas Blues ...you got em'? by redhanded.
400 points, ended December 23, 2008, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
what do you think?
Comments
-
well pend piece you have here thanks so much for entering and best of luck to you in this contest and in the future
andi
(redhanded) -
This was wonderful my friend, that is all i can simply say, keep it flowing and good luck in the contest.
-
I enjoyed reading this very much.
You have a wonderful command of
flow and language.
I wish you
well in the contest.
Love, Lane
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