For day 25 of the Christmas challenge — also, merry Christmas to all! The first line, which I put in quotes, is a sentence that someone said in a video reflection on this event, and that one line screamed to be put into a poem.
“Christ is born once more for us,”
Poor and helpless child:
In a manger He is laid,
By the world reviled
Other than by shepherds, and
Wise men who were trav’ling
From the East, to worship Him;
A new hope announcing.
Come to Jesus, Him embrace,
See His whole innocent face.
This quadrille is for DVerse, and when I saw the post title, “In the Inglenook,” I thought it must be gibberish because I had never heard that word before! Maybe it’s because I live in California, where we have no need of fireplaces (or, therefore, of inglenooks 🙂 ). Anyway, I am happy to have learned a new word today; here is my attempt at a quadrille!
But first, the definition quoted in the original DVerse post:
For those of you not familiar with the word, here is a definition: INGLENOOK (noun,English)- A close intimate corner by a fireplace where people gather for warmth; from ingle, a hearth (Scots)
I wrote this tanka while watching Jeopardy tonight, because Alex Trebek said, “We are now well into the holiday season.” For those who don’t know, he passed away shortly before Thanksgiving, but because he had recorded several weeks of shows in advance, they are airing those. It was eerie that he said that on the show because he didn’t get to actually get into the holiday season. So, looking at my family’s Christmas tree, which we put up just a few days ago, I wrote this, also for the Christmas Challenge day 8.
Christmas tree watches
Alex Trebek on TV —
Enlighten the room
Born in relative solitude,
Laid in a manger to be soul’s food,
On this timeless silent night,
Illuminated by the star, bright —
And of course, the world’s Light —
Is born God’s eternal Word,
As an infant’s cry is heard.
Some governors will have blood on their hands. If they think staying home is safer, they don’t realize that supposed refuges can run red with the blood of the despairing. Unsympathetic people call those who bring this fact to light “covidiots,” but I think that what’s more “covidiotic” is having a monolithic fixation on one issue. Depression and other issues make people really tired of Blursday following Blursday, wishing that “anthropause” would take it’s claws out of all the broken hearts.
Your regularly scheduled poem has been interrupted by this thing, because my brain has short-circuited.
Also, I know that the word “red” is supposed to be for a Christmas writing challenge, and this is the opposite of Christmassy. This was also inspired by a prompt at Poets and Storytellers United.
mistletoe is green, Santa’s hat is red, there are other things than Covid which can make us dead
This is for DVerse Poetics. I was going to write something else to post, but the ideas are not coming, so here’s one that I wrote yesterday. We are responding to titles that Sarah provided for us. I responded to the one that is the title of this post. The form is like a cherita, but in reverse.
Grandma taught me how to bake sugar cookies.
Grandpa taught me that once you turn 80
No one can tell you you can’t eat ice cream nightly.
They taught me family history from past centuries,
And how not to freeze in the snow, a foreign thing
This is a Costanza poem for the Saturday Mix, also overlapping with MLMM’s Tale Weaver: Confusion. I wrote this tonight in honor of the first Sunday of Advent, the season before Christmas Day. My emotions have been all over the place, but I love Advent, so that is what inspired this poem.
She cursed those three pomegranate seeds.
Now caught in dark winter, she wonders
Whose bright idea was it
To let her daughter eat them?
Demeter’s mood is tropical storm, far from warm,
And she feels her precious baby’s
Breath become a frigid frost again.