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Every Day Poems

A Poem A Day

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Christmas Poems

Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

November 30, 2017 by Every Writer

Twas the Night Before Christmas

A Visit From St. Nicholas

by Clement Clarke Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter,
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of mid-day to objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;

His droll little month was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump’a right jolly old elf;
And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

This poem was originally titled A Visit From St. Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore. It is considered the quintessential poem about Christmas and Santa Claus.

Filed Under: 1700s, Christmas Poems

Ode to the Christmas Tree by Grace Curtis

November 17, 2013 by Every Writer

grace

Ode to the Christmas Tree

by Grace Curtis

Bathed in the act of forgetting
still upright light endowed
upright on crutches drinking
only what I give it giving

all that it can a few winks
now and then ball-catcher.
What other relic withstands
this kind of stand-up once

cut letting its light emanate
only for delight like a hundred
stars in the night fractured
by its own limbs? In this chaos

it is difficult to tell what’s true
what’s green what’s there
what’s to be had against
what’s to be hadn’t-hadn’t

happened hadn’t been cut hadn’t
seeded tiny sprouts-
earth’s soft down. A hundred
eyes calling out singing yes

yes. They are saying yes to me with
white eyes yes to us yes to the cat
yes to this room yes to these gifts yes
to O Holy Night holy cow hollied bough

glass birds and beaded eggs in springly nests
yes O holy tree yes.

###

Grace Curtis’ chapbook, The Surly Bonds of Earth was selected by Stephen Dunn as the 2010 winner of the Lettre Sauvage chapbook contest. Grace’s work has appeared in such journals as Baltimore Review, Waccamaw Literary Journal, Scythe, Reprint Poetry, Phoebe Journal and others. She works part time for The Antioch Review. Her blog is www.N2Poetry.com.

Filed Under: Christmas Poems

Snow starved by Shweta Garg

September 3, 2012 by Every Writer

Snow Starved

by Shweta Garg

I was snow starved all this time
Was eager for the fall to
Skirt in its random leaves and make way
For the white candy floss
I was snow starved all this time
Had little crumbs of the polaroids
Munched nuggets of frost
Scrapped from old refrigerators
I was snow starved all this time
And was stuffed by the spokes in a flake
The giant blanket of snow
Smothered a tropical flower of my desire

###

Shweta Garg is an academician turned creative writer from India. Her poems have been published nationally and internationally. She is currently working on her debut book of fiction. She likes to travel and eat.

Filed Under: Christmas Poems

A Snow Day Hue by Lori Lipsky

February 17, 2012 by Every Writer

A Snow Day Hue

by Lori Lipsky

Solitude arrived today
on the color white.
It blew in
at a diagonal
with swirls of wind
and achieved its blanket result
before early night covered the gray.

 

###

Lori Lipsky lives in Waunakee, WI with her husband and their daughter. She blogs at Visits and Verse: http://visitsandverse.com/ and Twitters @LoriSLipsky. Her poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Penwood Review, Pegasus Review, Red Poppy Review, Bolts of Silk and a Handful of Stones.

Filed Under: 2000, Christmas Poems

A Christmas Carol by James Russell Lowell

December 18, 2010 by Every Writer


A Christmas Carol

by James Russell Lowell

“What means this glory round our feet,”
The Magi mused, “more bright than morn?”
And voices chanted clear and sweet,
“To-day the Prince of Peace is born!”

“What means that star,” the Shepherds said,
“That brightens through the rocky glen?”
And angels, answering overhead,
Sang, “Peace on earth, good-will to men!”

‘Tis eighteen hundred years and more
Since those sweet oracles were dumb;
We wait for Him, like them of yore;
Alas, He seems so slow to come!

But it was said, in words of gold,
No time or sorrow e’er shall dim,
That little children might be bold
In perfect trust to come to Him.

All round about our feet shall shine
A light like that the wise men saw,
If we our loving wills incline
To that sweet Life which is the Law.

So shall we learn to understand
The simple faith of shepherds then,
And, clasping kindly hand in hand,
Sing, “Peace on earth, good-will to men!”

But they who do their souls no wrong,
But keep at eve the faith of morn,
Shall daily hear the angel-song,
“To-day the Prince of Peace is born!”

Filed Under: 1800s Poetry, Christmas Poems

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