I Never could find the right words until now, and even now I am uncertain.
Saturated with images
of past Christmas foray's
When paper mache carnage
Is the first of events
while stockings hung
Await a laughing covenant
Of candy, fruit along
With holograms of lights
That Adorn each window
Bushes that glisten white
As her tree Beckons aglow
For a celebration wrapped
In vestiges of simplicity
Where spirits of Christmas past
Parlay hymns of sincerity
We sit among village models
Shining lights in miniature
That sends us to a portal
Where her spirit is captured
For a moment she is our guide
To a celebration of giving
As Her laughter whispers aside
Of we that remain living
Her laughing apparition
Painted red lipped smile
And pointed fingers assertion
With Joyous irreverent guile
Lecturing us each and all
This was a damn celebration
Gesturing she was appalled
At tears shed in vain
Hands on her shadowy hips She calls
"Get off your ass and smile"
"I'll have no tears" her loud growl
Sits us alert as we corral
Our emotional flourish of angst
Scattered in a shredded paper trance
Resolves itself in smiles pained
While we honor her willowy rant
It is a Christmas first
And a Christmas forever
Where her spiritual tryst
Becomes an annual ritual
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 565 times
Written on 2013-05-29 at 18:19
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Her Christmas Ritual
It is Christmas eveSaturated with images
of past Christmas foray's
When paper mache carnage
Is the first of events
while stockings hung
Await a laughing covenant
Of candy, fruit along
With holograms of lights
That Adorn each window
Bushes that glisten white
As her tree Beckons aglow
For a celebration wrapped
In vestiges of simplicity
Where spirits of Christmas past
Parlay hymns of sincerity
We sit among village models
Shining lights in miniature
That sends us to a portal
Where her spirit is captured
For a moment she is our guide
To a celebration of giving
As Her laughter whispers aside
Of we that remain living
Her laughing apparition
Painted red lipped smile
And pointed fingers assertion
With Joyous irreverent guile
Lecturing us each and all
This was a damn celebration
Gesturing she was appalled
At tears shed in vain
Hands on her shadowy hips She calls
"Get off your ass and smile"
"I'll have no tears" her loud growl
Sits us alert as we corral
Our emotional flourish of angst
Scattered in a shredded paper trance
Resolves itself in smiles pained
While we honor her willowy rant
It is a Christmas first
And a Christmas forever
Where her spiritual tryst
Becomes an annual ritual
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 565 times
Written on 2013-05-29 at 18:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
