Weekly Poems: A Christmas Poem and More
MAKE NOT MUCH OF WHAT YOU'RE MISSING
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.
COLD COMFORT IN THE CHASTITY OF SORROW
Cold comfort in the chastity of sorrow,
Having turned in pain towards innocence,
Reaching through the madness for the marrow,
Intent, for once, on yielding all pretense;
Sensing the necessity of love
Though feeling none but hunger well within,
Meaning nothing more than one might prove
As one finds little proof in death and sin:
So it was one night in Bethlehem.
PLEASE DON'T SPAZ IF I SHOULD ASK YOU OUT
Please don't spaz if I should ask you out.
A girl can ask a guy out on a date.
If she likes the guy, I mean, why wait?
Taking risks is what it's all about.
So we have some dinner, maybe dance,
Go out to a bar and have a drink.
You ask me this or that and what I think.
No need right away for a romance.
Why not just two people having fun,
Being with each other, nothing more.
And then, or then not, opening a door
To see what else might happen with this one.
DECEMBER
December finds himself again a child
Even as he undergoes his age.
Cold and early darkness now descend,
Embracing sanctuaries of delight.
More and more he stares into the night,
Becoming less and less concerned with ends,
Emblem of the innocent as sage
Restored to wonder by what he must yield.
HAPPINESS, EVEN IN A DESERT
Happiness, even in a desert,
Adjusts well to what moisture it can find.
Perhaps it takes a little extra effort;
Perhaps one needs to keep it more in mind.
Yet one must still depend on celebration,
Holidays transferred from colder climes,
Offering the blessing of relation,
Love that takes the stage at special times.
In such reunions, happiness takes root
Deep enough to tap the deepest well,
Alive and blooming, bearing succulent fruit,
Yearning, yes, for some well-watered dell,
Still satisfied with mountains, dry and mute.
SO DO WE MARK THE TURNING OF THE LIGHT
So do we mark the turning of the light,
Each turning imperceptibly within,
As dawn comes to the coldest depths of night,
Sweet silver hint that day will soon begin.
Our darkest hours are those of greatest cheer,
Nor need we faith to feel the moment's grace,
Still holy, though the mechanism's clear,
Gift of time transcending time and place.
Reason sees no reason for rebirth:
Each moment is an equal place to start.
Even so, we recognize its worth:
The ritual redemption of the heart.
In us there yet remains the ancient awe,
Now overlaid with litany and law,
Grateful to the gods for seasons sure,
Sustained by love unseen and worship pure.
NEW YEARS ARE A CHANCE FOR A BEGINNING
New years are a chance for a beginning
Even when there hasn't been an end.
Wheels turn in an interminable bend,
Yet, marked in one spot, seem to wobble spinning.
Each year we hope to do a little better
Although we know that really nothing's changed.
Reason thinks that everything's arranged,
So we must dream if we would fate unfetter.
I am a poet and webmaster of the popular poetry site, Poems for Free, at http://www.poemsforfree.com.
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