December 22, 2011 #665
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Christmas.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com/week.html .
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Morning never comes on Christmas Day!
Eons pass and still the sun won't rise
Running late, the parents check closed eyes,
Retrieving gifts they long had hid away.
Years pass too quickly; loves and friendships stray.
Christmas comes and goes; the magic dies.
Happiness is hard and elsewhere lies.
Reality erodes one's sense of play.
Innocence remains a memory,
Sustaining hope and faith in later years,
The gift of what the child once believed.
Morning comes, of course, eventually,
As dreams give way to deep and unshed tears,
Still waiting for a glory long since grieved.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Showing posts with label xmas poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label xmas poetry. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Poem of the Week
December 8, 2011 #663
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for the holiday season.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com/week.html .
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Satisfaction, like the sea, is tidal.
Each day, each week, each month it comes and goes.
Along the heart's shore, feeling's never idle,
Singing across sand in tidal flows.
One's happiness is much more like the sun,
Not influenced by currents, winds, or moon,
Self-energized, a power plant of one,
Giving light that others need to bloom.
Remember, in this season of desire,
Every moment you are free to love,
Enveloping your fortune in your fire,
That all life's beauty might within you move.
In each of us there is an unspent yearning,
Needing, wanting, wishing, turning, churning.
Gladness may be seasonal, but grace
Sings its song outside of time and place.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for the holiday season.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com/week.html .
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Satisfaction, like the sea, is tidal.
Each day, each week, each month it comes and goes.
Along the heart's shore, feeling's never idle,
Singing across sand in tidal flows.
One's happiness is much more like the sun,
Not influenced by currents, winds, or moon,
Self-energized, a power plant of one,
Giving light that others need to bloom.
Remember, in this season of desire,
Every moment you are free to love,
Enveloping your fortune in your fire,
That all life's beauty might within you move.
In each of us there is an unspent yearning,
Needing, wanting, wishing, turning, churning.
Gladness may be seasonal, but grace
Sings its song outside of time and place.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Poem of the Week
December 24, 2009 #561
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Christmas poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Make not much of what you're missing;
Each gets gifts as they come due.
Rest assured, regarding wishing:
Riches are reserved for you.
Years of want require wanting;
Christmas gives what one receives.
Happiness ought not seem daunting,
Renting space in what one grieves.
In your heart is all you need,
Sustained by giving it away.
Though you burn and break and bleed,
Mere suffering's no place to stay.
As you are is as you will,
Sure of winds that wish you well.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Christmas poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Make not much of what you're missing;
Each gets gifts as they come due.
Rest assured, regarding wishing:
Riches are reserved for you.
Years of want require wanting;
Christmas gives what one receives.
Happiness ought not seem daunting,
Renting space in what one grieves.
In your heart is all you need,
Sustained by giving it away.
Though you burn and break and bleed,
Mere suffering's no place to stay.
As you are is as you will,
Sure of winds that wish you well.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Poem of the Week
December 25, 2008 #513
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Christmas poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Merry Christmas to my love!
Enjoy the holiday.
Revel where the angels move,
Rejoice in what they say.
Years burn life down to a stub;
Christmas comes and goes.
Happiness lies at the nub,
Refuse of one’s woes.
Inside the husk there is the seed,
Shivering with glory.
The midnight cold, the dire need,
Mere setting for the story.
All the labor, loss, and pain
Sings of beauty born again.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Christmas poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Merry Christmas to my love!
Enjoy the holiday.
Revel where the angels move,
Rejoice in what they say.
Years burn life down to a stub;
Christmas comes and goes.
Happiness lies at the nub,
Refuse of one’s woes.
Inside the husk there is the seed,
Shivering with glory.
The midnight cold, the dire need,
Mere setting for the story.
All the labor, loss, and pain
Sings of beauty born again.
© by Nicholas Gordon
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