Dec. 17 - Evergreen Boughs
Poetry Advent Calendar
*** December 17th ***
Evergreen Boughs
The tree, come home to rest, prominent boughs
Of green displayed and memories arouse
In winter dark, no light, honour ancients
Together round the tree as time allows
***
Bring out tinsel, candles and ornaments
Layer them on each branch, achieve brilliance
Twinkling lights, hanging baubles, star glistens
Excitement, impatience, wait for presents
***
All the candle lights are small golden suns
Standing in thrall, face aglow, awakens
Our hearts with hope and family unites
The home and our hearth and the night lightens
***
Enter into the room heavenly smell
The glorious, noble firs cast their spell
And bring us enchanted to the forest
Christmas with no tree, would be no Noël
*** Poem in Interlocking Rubaiyat ***
About the Creator
Christina Barber
Vancouver, Canada
@lille_sol
@canuckreader
Publications:
“Alone in an Empty Room” https://www.thecreativezine.org/issue1
Keep reading
More stories from Christina Barber and writers in Poets and other communities.
Dec. 15 - 'Tis the Season
When December rolls around and the winter break looms on the horizon, there is a call to friends that arises within. The desire to reconnect is strong. To catch-up with friends far away is a delight. To see people who are closer but with whom you don't get to spend enough time because of busy lives, is restorative. And it is also time to reflect on friends no longer here, to remember how you still hold them dear.
By Christina Barber2 years ago in Poets
Paint and Weave
Author's Notes: I rediscovered my 1980's poetry magnets box and in it were two poems I find compelling. I recall having challenged myself to create two poems using the same set of words. These two poem are what spilled out. Which one resonates more with you, version A or B? Leave it in Comments. I'd love to know your thoughts!
By Christy Munsona day ago in Poets
Gossamer
"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
By Rachel Deeming6 days ago in Fiction
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