Poetry: December 07, 2005 Issue [#755] |
Poetry
This week: Edited by: Stormy Lady More Newsletters By This Editor
1. About this Newsletter 2. A Word from our Sponsor 3. Letter from the Editor 4. Editor's Picks 5. A Word from Writing.Com 6. Ask & Answer 7. Removal instructions
This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady |
ASIN: 197380364X |
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Amazon's Price: $ 15.99
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I have been on this site for five years now. Five wonderful years of writing and reading poetry. I have made friendships that have lasted not only over the years but the miles between us. This once little site of a couple hunder writers has blossomed into a world of writers and friends. It has been an adventure and a blessing in my life.
To all my friends and all the writes on this site may your holiday season be bessed with family and friends. I will end this year with my favorite holiday poem. The poem that read to my sons every year and hope it makes you smile and remember how magical the holidays were when you were a child.
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
(or 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 Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the roof there arose 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 shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his courses 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, Donner 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 courses they flew,
with the 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 mouth 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,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
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GOLDEN WEDDING RING
You put on that golden wedding ring,
said you’d not trade it for anything
but you decided not to linger,
The ring, too heavy for your finger
and it was then, the time to move on,
here for the good times, then you were gone.
Oh yes, you changed your way of living,
cast away all that he was giving,
so you pawned the golden wedding ring,
because to you it didn’t mean a thing,
just an airplane ticket out of town,
never cared, you tore his whole world down.
He still wears his golden wedding band,
on the ring finger of his left hand.
You left him and quickly went away,
if someone asks him why, he can’t say.
11/17/05
Monty
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These are the rules:
1)You must use the words I give in a poem.
2)They can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem.
3)All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] by January 6, 2005.
4)The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post. (January 12, 2005)
The words are:
snowflake winter night bright lights busy silence kiss
Good luck to all
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