By Bruce Hamilton © 2002


I sit by my window and weep
at how certain glories don't keep.
The winter was flooded
with starlight whose studded
preciseness implied something deep.

CHRISTMAS TREE The main approach warns me to revere all the branches and some of the greener needles. I see in the distracted hour a tendency toward giving the trunk a big poke. Why should I do that, though? Any such plant signifies something bigger than a bull or a ten-cent piece.

AN ABSENCE AT CHRISTMAS The tenor of holiday cheer is wounded by something this year. A heart has departed, and nature has started to veer toward a dearness unclear.

MUSIC BOXES The noises and absolute dances those boxes perform win our glances. Each music box plays a game that soon pays large dividends rife with romances.

There Really IS A Santa
Painting By Tom Sierak
REINDEER The pronglets and songlets that shine, from reindeer, are very divine. Those marvelous creatures are fabulous teachers that like their vermouth crisp and fine.

POINSETTIAS Poinsettias came to the meeting and shoved all our hearts toward a greeting. The beasts were the reddish precursors of dreadish demeanors both facile and fleeting.

CANDLES Those wicked and waxy delights keep shedding soft light on dark knights. The dark and brave jousters each act, then, like rousters of reasons that love to end fights.

SANTA CLAUS The fat and quite laughy old sport again is requaffing the port. He sooner or later will seem like a traitor to stockings that drink by the quart.

CHRISTMAS The holly hasn't been cut. Let's let it remain vibrant. Some reindeer may wish that the berries be nibbleable. The neighbors may find reasons for liking the fresh colors. A merry and very bearded old guy may enjoy getting some leafy relief.

CHRISTMAS The season demands a reverence that will stun the very mistletoe. Several things are inherent. We should shake the shellac that shook the shenanigans that sent the sorrow a slower seeping. Several sides ascend.

CHRISTMAS CANDLES The wicks had a baleful cut as operant as an old phone's heart. The wicks had gone crazy. Lateness invited the flaming.

CHRISTMAS (COMMERCIAL) The holidays are here, and we again can doff our gloom and shop and shop and shop, and, if we're lucky, we might think "Amen!" about how soon some hungers tend to stop. I keep descrying lights on each far tree, and every near tree seems pure mistletoe, and in my little satchels you may see a big and loud and funny "Ho, ho, ho!" Come, let's go visit oldsters at their homes and carol them ecstatically with tunes, and let's concoct a way of building domes that keep the static down when much flesh croons. The streets are happy, and no house may hurt (at all), for many a newness fills time's skirt. By Bruce Hamilton © 2002


Have Your Self A Merry Christmas

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