A Different Kind of ChristmasA Different Kind of Christmas10 years ago in Prose More Like This
It was the beginning of yet another December, and Knuckles the Echidna reclined beside the Master Emerald. It was snowing in the mountains on Angel Island, while falling as rain in the forest below. He stood up, looking towards the mainland; Station Square was bustling with activity. He never saw much of his friends this time of year, and he wondered why this time of year was so important to them. He glanced at the Master Emerald and said to himself, "You're a cruel beauty, keeping me tethered to this island all year." Breathing a deep sigh he continued, "However, the activity of the mainlanders, and the reason for this commotion, eludes me still."
Knuckles was annoyed with his duty of guarding the Master Emerald, for he couldn't leave it, and it was a burden at times. He could never see his friends as much as he wanted; he knew that they revered this time of year, and had no idea why. A forlorn feeling enveloped his heart, making this time of year burdensome to him.
An Ode to an Aussie ChristmasAn Ode to an Aussie Christmas10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
thanks for the grub
its time for the Christmas feast.
With heaps of cold meat
and plenty to eat
and the sun rising high in the East.
We have barbeques
and parties as far as the eye.
The Christmas tree
for all to see
with the presents piled up high.
The aircon is going
and the booze is flowing
coz the heat is just too much to bear.
And when you sit in the lounge
as you're lazing around,
you get stuck to the back of your chair.
Theres dozens of rellies
with huge swollen bellies
from booze and icecream and junk.
We're sitting around
with cans on the ground
and we're all just a little bit drunk.
Its time for the presents,
we've all learned our lessons
'bout peeking before the big day.
Coz Santa Claus
will hardly pause
before taking the ripped ones away.
So now we're done,
it's sure been fun,
we'll see you again in a year.
Enjoy your gift,
and have a safe trip,
but dont drive after too many beers.
Christmas GiftMy socks are wet.Christmas Gift10 years ago in Prose More Like This
I wriggle my toes a bit in the black boots that I was lucky to find.
One is hard pressed to locate high heels boots in a size eleven.
While I enjoyed them as a fashion statement when I lived in Indiana, it took a Minnesota winter to prove they are only that.
Mid-calf boots shouldn't let your socks get wet.
It's odd. The air would seem still, if it were not for the abundance of delicate, almost lacy snowflakes that wrap about me.
Now my feet are growing cold. Cold and soggy. Cotton socks. Not something I will do again.
I should start walking once more. But each step seems like the last one, which seems like the one before it and so on and so forth, until the first step.
Simply, as if I'm getting no where.
Instead, I choose to remain in one place, haloed by the streetlamp high above me.
Everything seems more true to a dream in the light. The snow a magical thing, the traffic hushed, even the dirty slush thrown by a passing plow has been painted in a kind palette.
MemoriesYou hold the knife to your wrist,Memories10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
Has it really come to this?
You heart is full of pain,
Butdoes this mean the joy you felt was all in vain?
You tell yourself it's something you must do,
What about all the people who love you?
You're sure to the it was just a game,
But immediatly you're filled with shame,
With a quick motion, you slice your wrist,
No more pain, no more bliss,
As the blood seeps through the cracks,
Your head fills with memories of the past,
Some good, some bad,
But all of the life you had,
The way how every Christmas,
Your dad would dress as Santa and hand out presents,
And every summer your siblings would go away,
And gave you and your parents time to play,
Or the way when your family went out to eat,
Everyone was so upbeat,
Laughing and joking,
Your dad even singing occasionaly,
Then there were the times you were so horrible,
It's a wonder the didn't throw you out the door,
And then, the day your mom moved out,
Or the pain you felt when you found out what it was about
MemoriesChristmas…what does it mean anyways? If you look at the names of the holiday in different languages, you'll get various translations. In English, it's simply the mass for the Christ, celebrating his birth. In Portuguese it's Natal meaning birth. And in Croatian it's Bozic, literally meaning Little God. But in all, it's a day when we celebrate the birth of a young God, as it was done on Yule, the winter solstice, before the Christ was born. The birth of the light, the Sun. New hope.Memories10 years ago in Prose More Like This
It was a cold winter, lots of snow. We managed to get a tree on Christmas, although it's not permitted to sell them before the New Year's. It's little but it brings this nice scent in our home, which mixes with the scent of the cinnamon in the cake and orange on the table. The rich neighbour found a puppy on the street and brought it home for his kids, but they got tired of it in a few days. I got him out of the cold, and mom said I could keep him if I'm to clean after him. A new member of our big f
'Tis the SeasonThe lights are on, the tree is up,'Tis the Season10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
yes, 'tis the season.
The stars are out and a warm coffee cup,
yet tears flow without reason.
Is it memories long gone and dead,
or nausea from the pulsing lights?
I cannot say, it is not said,
through this strange and sullen night.
Why do tear stains mark the heart?
For others, this time means joyful peace.
Perhaps it's the onion being cut,
but these tears will not be appeased.
I think about my ponderings,
and wonder how to please them.
But although all my thoughts are grim,
yes, 'tis the season.
I Wished You A Merry ChristmasI Wished You A Merry Christmas10 years ago in Prose More Like This
I wished You A Merry Christmas
Time seemed to pause in depths.
Dreams seemed to call out into colours visible for all to see.
Visions became more than a spoken word, but the actions of everyone surrounding.
Shimmering stars took on a meaning, as we each held each other closer for warmth.
Looking over my shoulder, I smiled at the moments we had together.
Each year passes by with ease, and what a way to end but with festive out-put.
One day I woke, feeling the stress lift from my shoulders.
I couldn't believe my ears, as laughter echoed down the halls of innocence.
Stretching off the eve, I felt the clutches of hugs around me.
Tears of joy shimmered like falling star dust, as colours went flying around the room.
My days of hard pressure and stressful conflict ended up bringing one other cheer.
I couldn't imagine life any other way.
I wasn't one for being festive in a year; I felt no remorse for others around me until now.
Heart break seemed to shatter like fallen glass, as I looked upon
The Great FlamingoThe Great Flamingo10 years ago in Prose More Like This
The Visit of the Great Flamingo
When I was growing up, my mother and a neighbor had a pastime of alternately "stinging" the others' house with a plastic garden flamingo. This act of friendly vandalism added an almost adolescent abandon to my parents' lives. Like teenagers tee-peeing a rival in the dead of night, four grownups would take turns sneaking the dubious trophy into place.
It all started when Mrs. S. said to my mother, "Pat, some people have such tacky lawns, they only need a pink flamingo to complete the picture." My mother nodded, taking Mrs. S's sometimes-caustic humor in stride. During the next family vacation, however, the trip back from the beach had an unexpected stopover at a tiny roadside stand. That night, my father crept across the street and planted a pink flamingo in Mrs. S's yard.
The flamingo was gone the next morning – even before my younger sister and I got up – and not a word was said.
Memories...Memories...10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
The flashing lights shine brightly upon her face
They are teasing her, mocking her
The star atop the great pine glares down at her
A menacing dictator
This is not Christmas, this is hell
The multitudes of lights look like eyes
Burning through her soul.
These days used to hold such meaning, such love...
Together in this very room, adorning the tree with merry embellishments
Sounds of laughter, joyous thoughts of love filling the air
Together, a lovers' embrace by the crackling fire
Lying on the floor now, staring at the ceiling,
This room feels like a tomb
The images keep playing through her mind
Slowing her heart a little more with each passing second
A table, still set for two, lies untouched
The lone candle in the center, has long since gone out
Leaving the flashing bulbs to be the only illumination
Shining red upon her beautiful, motionless face
The HypnotistThere's something about the end of the year that makes me feel depressed. As if my life isn't going anywhere. It might be the fact that it's been another pointless year almost passed, or it could be the fact that summer has been and gone, and there's nothing you can do to bring back those gloriously sticky summer nights out in the garden sitting by a fire. On the other hand, one can look forward to the delights of Halloween and Christmas, and if you live in America, Thanksgiving.The Hypnotist10 years ago in Prose More Like This
Even so, there's just something about the end of the year that's always made me feel depressed. It might be the autumn leaves dropping off the trees when they were once so beautifully ripe and succulent, swaying gently in the breeze as they soaked up the sunlight that beamed down on them. It might be the lost youth of summer fun and games in the beaming sunshine, playing catch with a Frisbee, sitting on the swings, trips down to the beach. Mind you, there's always snowball fights to be had, and there's a lot o
Santa StanzaThe soft silent creaking of the whisper stairSanta Stanza10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
And the gentle light-time of the moon
Do soften me in to sleep of sugarplums,
Silent mice and pleating, white snow hair.
Christmas timeChristmas time10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
Christmas, the best time of the year
For giving and sharing and drinking some beer
All the exquisite decorations, the beautiful lights
The day with your family, the one time with no fights
The presents underneath the christmas tree
Everyone around you as beautiful as can be
The christmas carolers singing at your door
No need for you to be sad anymore
Just smile and have fun, make up with your foe
Get into the Christmas spirit and watch your love grow
Christmas in IsraelShira was carrying water back from the well when she heard the shouting. The Negav was harsh, but deadly silent in the cold nights, so the shouts were as clear if it happened next door. She looked back from her camel, seeing two robed men pushing a woman into her own camel. The men spoke Arabic, and Shira knew better than to linger around. The Negav was teeming with random Arabic fugitives and probably a few Anti-Semites.Christmas in Israel10 years ago in Prose More Like This
Turning to latch the bucket on the saddle-of-sorts on her Camel, Hagar, she heard the women plead out in Hebrew to Jesus. Shira turned around again and frowned. Jesus. The supposid Messiah. His 'birthday' was coming up. Shaking her head she turned around again only to hear another scream and camels giving off their snorting-roar. Shira turned around for the final time, seeing the woman on the ground, the men gone.
Shira's heart felt hard, heavy, like solid mercury in her ribs. Licking her lips she tucked her falling hair into her scarf and went towards the woman and h
My Christmas WishMy Christmas WishMy Christmas Wish10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
All I want for Christmas
It isn't much
No diamond rings
or fancy cloths
No trips to far away places
or chests filled with gold
I don't want any presents this year
You don't have to spend a dime
All I want for Christmas
You're love will do just fine
No bitter words
Or nasty comments
Let us join together on Christmas Day
Fill the day with love and laughter
Not anger and tears
I don't ask for much
I never have
I don't need computer games
Or fancy things
The one thing I want
More than Anything
More than money
More than presents
I just ask for your love
a happy day
A day we can get along
No more comments about how bad i am
Or how I behave
No comments about how I displease you so
No comments about how disappointed you are
Just tell me you love me
Lets leave it at that
Sit down with me
Have a talk with me
That's all I want for christmas
Please tell me
I get my one christmas wish...
Shiver This TimeI wonder if you'll shiver, too.Shiver This Time10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
You used to shiver, lips all blue
until I brushed them with a sliver
of warm, saving breath under moon.
Twelve days of Christmas,
how they grew to me,
a wingless bird
in a broken pear tree--in a manger
stranger to my true love's eyes.
I saw them there,
two turtle doves
beside a running stream,
like goats flying down the
hills of Gilead, dreams
Balming me in the bombing.
Your teeth like spotless sheep
Bleating meek like
a magnificat (big with twins)
caught in the cervix
of a too-young, fast asleep
Slim fingers like nails
reach under a starry sky,
Asking why, oh why
Is Orion a warrior,
not a savior,
not an alibi?
Crystals flit from the balls of fire
Leading wise men to a
Singing faith, hope and love:
And the greatest of these,
though it comes like thieves,
yes, the greatest of these is love.
Five golden rings to bind my neck,
Scripts with twists you don't expect;
Recreated, new Adam, new Eve
Home for ChristmasThe television showed complete victory.Home for Christmas10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
Peace was a promise just over the next dune.
Presents were spread unopened.
The leaders promised a Christmas Homecoming.
Twisted wreckage sat on the freeways.
A cigar sat cold on the end table.
It was a matter of mission first and people always.
Smoldering signs of victory littered the road.
A lone tree was left, unattended, in the corner.
The Predator GrassThe trees haven't had enough water andThe Predator Grass10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
autumn's pomegranates are worthless
except as bulbous dryrattles for Christmas wreaths.
This year, Persephone would have spared us all
our cornhusk pillows crackling when we bedded down for the night.
They're forcing us back into our
dreams about the predator grass.
merry litmas competitionIt was the night before xmas,merry litmas competition10 years ago in Poetry More Like This
when all though DA,
all the stuff run ryit,
keeping xmas at bay.
realitysquared and suzi9mm keeping violation away.
hexentanz and ewm you know who they are,
answering your questions without leaving a scar.
dinyctis with all the news,
keeping out anything that gives the blues.
All of the prints team,
working as hard as can be,
sending them out leaving nothing but steam.
DA wish you all a merry xmas,
and a happy new year,
the best for teh future,
2006 we will all see you there.