Advent Poetry 1

Last year I tried doing a poem a day during advent – I had found a poetry prompt advent calender online. Bur I only managed about 6 before I got too busy with all of the other pre  Christmas tasks. This year I didn’t even start until a week in, but hopefully I can fit in more than last year in the next 16 days.

The first prompt was “Once upon a December” so this is what I wrote

Once upon a December night
When sky was dark but stars were bright
I took your hand and gave a smile,
We lost the whole world for a while
That frosty cold December night

Once upon a December eve
As snowflakes settled on my sleeve
We danced beneath the sky, care free.
So cold but happy as could be
That cheery crisp December eve

Once upon a December morning
As carols told of Christ child born
You took my hand and asked of me
myself, while down on bended knee.
Oh such happy December morn

Once upon a December day
While children wait to see the sleigh
You smile at them then pull me near
To breath devotion in my ear
This joyful bright December day



Mask

Over the years my self-confidence has waxed and waned many a time.  I am glad to say that with the psssage of time this has happened with less frequency and mostly decreasing extremes. As time goes by I am increasingly comfortable in my own skin and less focused on what others (may or may not) think of me. After all, I am who God made me to be and I seek to embrace my identity as one of His children. I am still very much a fan of wearing makeup, but I am no longer reliant on it as a mask that allows me to face the world. This poem is one that was written at a time when my self-confidence was definitely waning.


I am not myself today
I have come out without my face.
In all the rush of this morning it was
Overlooked.
At first I was happy in my ignorance.
All it took was one look.
The fleeting question in the eye of a
casual acquaintance
Told me all was not as it usually is.
As the realisation dawned I was horrified,
and bowed my head in shame.
I had allowed someone in.
Allowed someone to see the real me
in all it’s painful colours.
And yet for that momentary flicker
I would have gone about my day
uncowed by self judgment or derisory expectations.
So my feet are getting all my attention today
as I withdraw
to ignore
this beautiful life in which I play
a reluctant part

4.4.24

Day four of the poetry prompt advent calendar and the prompt was “unseen presence”.

You are here
Beside me always.
I know you are with me
And though I may not see you
When I stop and breathe
I feel your presence.
When I lie quiet in the darkness
Your unseen arms enfold me
And I hear your whisper in my ear.

You are the peace I know in the midst of the chaos.
You are the beauty I find when all around is spoiled.
You are the hope I find when the darkness descends.
And when I feel ugly you remind me of my true beauty.

How sad that too often my eyes are blind to what you show
How sad that my ears sometimes close to your words of comfort
How sad that the petty distractions of the world oft obscure your truth
And when worried I often forget that your hands hold me

But still, I know that your patient love is mine forever
Your presence with me, though unseen, is eternal truth

3.12.24

The prompt for today is ‘anticipation’

We await the day
When our certain hope becomes
A promise fulfilled

Our preparations
Build as we look to the day
of celebration

Anticipation
Fuels our frantic busyness
As the time draws close.

Frustrated we pray
Will we ever be ready
For the coming peace

2.12.24

Day 2 of the poetry prompt advent and the prompt is patience.

The in-between
A time of malcontent
When what is no longer amiss
Is not yet as it should be
Patience does not come naturally
The grumbles burst forth unrestrained
By manners or propriety
And annoyed by my own agitation
My hackles strain skyward

Yet still you do not respond
My unanswered pleas for conclusion
Hang unrecognised between us
The strides we made in danger of being overlooked
When still our destination is not gained

All in good time my child, all in good time.

My petulant cry –
“Now is a good time”
Dies on my lips
As I finally meet your gaze
And am engulfed in the love within.

All in good time my love, all in good time

December 1st

So I found a poetry prompt advent calendar. Day 1’s prompt was simply ‘A candle’

The room is still
Save for the flickering light of the candle on the mantel
It’s orange cast dancing on the wall behind.
The persistent motion is mesmerising as she watches through the window
The light shed by the candle does not spread far,
Showing her barely more than the silhouette of the familiar old chair
His chair
In its rightful position by the hearth.
But the hearth is cold and empty.
Summoning her courage, she takes the few small steps to the door.
She pauses, sighs, hand on the handle before,
Resigned, she pushes it open.
The sudden chill that floods the room
Is all-encompassing
And the feeble flame is no match for it.
As the door shuts behind her
All is
Darkness

Twisted

I have a stash of old notebooks full of thoughts and scribblings. Some pages hold just odd lines or paragraphs, some poems I have maybe just started and never finished. And some have finished poems that I have long forgotten writing, or have never shown to anyone. I can lose hours reading back through these notebooks. Sometimes I am looking for inspiration – to take a line or a half finished poem and make something of it. But also I get lost in memories. Many of my poems, especially the older ones are really just me putting my feelings down on paper. As I read them I can remember what I was doing when I wrote them, or why I was feeling a certain way. I can also see how I have changed over the years – how as I have grown my perspective has changed and my confidence grown. This poem was written at a period when I was lacking in self confidence and was a bit of a social chameleon.

I twisted myself up

I turned round and round

and got all tangled.

And then I had to unwind myself,

the other way round and round.

And when I fell on my behind

it wasn’t funny;

it hurt.

Even though I deceived you

when I sat there and laughed.

But the tears that rolled

down my reddened cheeks

were not the result of a

burst of hysteria.

My eyes all screwed up,

the tears fell from

sudden pain.

Riddle

I have been sorting through some old notebooks lately. Over the years I have written hundreds of poems, but only a small proportion have made it onto this blog so far. I thought it was maybe time to share more of these poems so over the next few weeks I will he posting a mixture of old and new stuff.

I don’t remember what exactly inspired this poem, but it was the first poem in a long while that I wrote with rhyme.

If I were you and you were me
Then who is that sat there?
If you were him and he were me
You really wouldn’t care.

I wonder if our quest for truth
Has stumbled off the trail –
We took the path least trodden on
and now our quest will fail.

I’m not sure even who you are –
I started out alone.
I think I might be dreaming now,
this truth I’ve never known.

If I were young and you were old
Then I would be quite green,
You’d fill my head with stories long
From days I’d never seen.

If I were old and you were young
I’d tell you then to hold your tongue.

Off Track

Unfortunately, I am no stranger to the middle of the night. At a time when most people are slumbering, I often find sleep elusive. Some nights I will get up and make myself a drink. I sit in the lounge and read or re-watch TV shows in the hope that I will nod off, and eventually, I usually do. But other nights, I find myself hovering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Stuck in a state where I am too conscious to be sleeping, but not conscious enough to get up; I am capable of dreaming, but unable to tell what is real from what is fantastic. I keep a notebook beside my bed with my pen in a blank page, so on nights like these I can reach out and start writing without putting on any light. The next morning I will sometimes find on the page unintelligible scribbles, or crazy thoughts that make no sense in the light of day. But every once in a while my scrawl will have a poetic bend and I can make something fanciful from the words that came to me in the middle of the night.

I knew twas not the path to take, yet still I chose to tread
Along the way that beckoned me with flowers of pink and red
I knew twas not the way to go for I had listened well
But still I chose to pay no heed and took my time as well
I dilly dallied up the path and gazed around in awe
Astonished by the blooms I saw – I’d never seen before.
The beauty that surrounded me full took my breath away
I lost some hours in marvelling this exotic display
Another chance soon came my way to get back on the trail
I should have taken from the first, but sense did not prevail
So still I wandered dreamily among the heady scent
Of blossoms green and blossoms blue until the day was spent
The darkened sky swirled fast around and I was thence afraid
And knew I could no more deny the mistake I had made
I knew twas not the path to take, yet I had chose to tread
The path that once distracted me and cost me now my bed.

Three times

Often I will have inspiration for just a few lines of a poem. I’ll write them down and come back to them at a later date to write the whole thing. A while ago I wrote the first Stanza of this, originally about a very different matter. However when I came back to it the poem has gone in a totally different direction. So here, very different to what I intended, is the finished poem.

The first time I said no I meant it
The second I wasn’t so sure
The third time I said no I knew that
I’d bend if you asked me once more

The first time I said yes I waivered
The second I felt that I must
The third time I knew I had no choice
To say no would lose me your trust

The first time I walked out I tested
The second I still wasn’t sure
The third time I walked out I knew that
I’d never walk back through that door

The first time I felt love he meant it
The second he meant it much more
The third time 1 felt love I knew that
I’d always be scared and unsure

The first time he promised I questioned
The second I silently wept
The third time he promised I knew that
Once more and 1 might just accept

The next time he promised he held me
In earnest looked straight in my eyes
Whatever wherever whenever
He’d always be right by my side

And that time I really believed it
For once more my heart was made whole
With him by my side I have risen
And reclaimed the me that you stole