Only a Dream

d’Verse Poets Pub -MTB: endings / beginnings

Only a Dream

She dreamed of leading a big marching band,
With a shiny baton twirling in her small hands
She didn’t want drums or a horn she could toot,
instead she asked Santa for majorette boots

The white leather ones with bright tassels of red.
They’re the pair she envisioned at night, in her bed.
So she went to bed early, this good little girl,
Pulled her blanket way up so it covered her curls.

She kept her eyes closed when wind started to blow,
the rooftops and bushes soon were covered with snow.
The best winter night for dear Santa to bring
the boots that she wanted more than anything

But her letter to Santa must have lacked clear instruction.
The boots under the tree were a felt reproduction.

Wishing On A Star

Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 16 December 2017
Write a Holiday Pantoum

Wishing On A Star

Fir tree is decorated with a star
Green branches laden with glowing tinsel
Cookies are on a special plate
Now we are waiting for Santa

Green branches laden with glowing tinsel
No shiny packages yet to be found
Now we are waiting for Santa
Hoping our wishes will come true

No shiny packages yet to be found
Cookies are on a special plate
Hoping our wishes will come true
Fir tree is decorated with a star

 

Oh Christmas Tree

2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 26
Write a ‘shine’ poem

—-

Oh, Christmas Tree

we trudge through snowy fields
searching for that “perfect” tree
not too tall
not too wide
not too perfect

we untangle
strings of twinkling lights
and find ourselves tied
up in k(nots) –
we’re not doing this again

fancy glass bulbs hang
beside homemade reindeer
jingle bells tinkle
from branches – sticky
with pine sap

we sigh and even curse
just a little
wondering why we
bother, year after year
then she comes
bounding down the stairs
eyes shining brightly

and we know

 

Fudgey Christmas Magic

POETIC BLOOMINGS

PROMPT #208 – THE JOY OF CHRISTMAS: PART FOUR

Fudgey Christmas Magic

He didn’t cook or bake
Or even grill out
But when the spirit moved
Him, as it often did,
He pulled out a
Special pot, some sugar
Butter, vanilla, and cocoa
A thermometer that would
Tell him when the magic
Mixture had reached
Perfection
I watched my dad
Pour the dark creamy
Fudge – sliding smoothly
Into pan to cool and I knew
That this was a special holiday
Treat because in this batch
Were the black walnuts
We had gathered together
From the backyard

Christmas haibun

Everyone else at the tree lot is searching for the “perfect” Christmas tree. A man holds a seven foot tree upright so his wife can pass judgement on its shape. A family debates whether or not the tree they like best will actually fit in their living room.
But I’m on a search for the tree no one else wants. A task that has become more difficult since Christmas trees are now raised on “farms” and only the trees with that classic cone shape make it to market.
At the end of a long row sits a smallish tree, trunk a little crooked, and branches that don’t conform to popular tastes – just the one I was looking for.
At home I put my little tree into the holder and make it as straight as possible. Then I find the worn cardboard box hidden behind the well organized plastic bins of ornaments. Inside are the tattered homemade decorations from my childhood. I string lights and paper chains on the tree and lovingly place each reindeer, snowman, and Santa. With only the tree lights glowing, I close my eyes and take a step back in time

imperfect tree
transformed by lights and snowmen
Christmas memories