A Few of my Christmas Poems
Back in 1979, after a few years of getting Christmas letters tucked into cards, I was in a whimsical mood and decided to use a little humor and poetry to tell people that we had a new address. "New House for Christmas" was the result of my musings. The next year, around Thanksgiving, so many of our family and friends called us to ask if I would write another poem, that we decided to make it a Christmas tradition. The poems, over the years, have varied...some short, some long...some humorous, some serious...some traditional, some about family life. I hope you enjoy them.
--Christmas Tinsel and Easter Grass--
--The Hands of the Carpenter---
We're not where we all used to be.
A bigger house with a den have we
With room for a great big Christmas tree!
A bigger garage for Jack and Tommy,
A nice big kitchen for Lori and Mommy.
The hardwood floor in the hall is neat --
We can all slide there in our stockinged feet.
Santa Claus can have his pick,
But the Franklin stove might make him stick --
So to keep in Ho-Ho-Ho condition
Out fireplace is more to his tradition.
We'll sing Silent Night in bass and soprano
As we gather 'round the old piano.
In spring we1ll build some rooms - just three...
Bedroom for Jack, sewing room for me.
An extra bathroom completes the set,
But we aren't through. Oh no, not yet.
Our plans include a porch of wood
Across the front of the house. It should
Provide a place to sit and rest.
Of all the plans, we like this best.
So stop for a while in our new home
When by this way you chance to come.
We need your help for this to be
A home that's filled with memories.
Another year has rolled around and it's Christmas time again!
We can no longer slide down the hall in stockinged feet...
We carpeted the floors -- not as much fun, but warm and neat!
We built those rooms we talked about and labored by the hour.
Can't wait to finish the new bath so Tom can have "his" shower.
Lori1s room is feminine, strawberry and white,
With lots of closet space so she can stash things out of sight!
Jack's is sort-of western style. He's finally got a big bed,
So where else but the floor at night to lay his sleepy head?
The den looks like a brand new room with paneling and tile.
We guess that we'll be satisfied with it for quite a while.
The sewing room has not been tiled, but it can wait till 'Jan.,
I've got to get my Christmas sewing done while I can!
Brick planters and a lamppost make the front look very nice;
People walking or in cars look not once, but twice!
The two tree stumps we had last year are now no longer seen,
It took us hours to do it, but the new lawn's flat and green.
The porch is faced with desert rock, a lovely place to sit...
Hope it'll be even nicer in Spring (when we finish it).
I could go on and on, but I'll end this Christmas poem
By wishing you the merriest Christmas in all of YOUR nice homes!
Letters from family who live where it's snowing
When I think of all the joy that it brings
Christmas is one of my favorite things
All busy making up things for the shelves there
Jack Frost a' skipping; the snowdust he flings!
These are a few of my favorite things!
Or it's drizzling
And I'm feeling sad
I just look around at all the Christmastime things
And then I don1t feel so sad...
Smells from the kitchen! I wonder what's cooking?
The family together - what songs we will sing!
These are a few of my favorite things.
Or it's drizzling
And I'm feeling sad
I just look around at all the Christmastime things
And then I don1t feel so sad...
The smell of good things baking, tempting those who come to call.
It's candles, poinsettias, and boughs of holly,
Reindeer, angels and Santa so jolly
Loading a pack of toys onto his sleigh,
Rudolph the Red Nosed to light the way.
The glad-hearted ringing of every bell
Refreshing breaths of pine-scented air
Cutting trees to decorate so fair
Homemade things of love and creativity
Children's faces aglow at the Nativity.
We visit them, or they come calling here.
In the arms of his parents, humble and fair.
For what he came to earth as, and what he'll always be...
Our savior forever.
That's what Christmas means to me.
A golden sun in a bright blue sky,
The excited faces of each girl and boy.
It's Christmas time -- the season of Joy.
Trying to play the songs we are singing,
White frosted trees on a snow-covered slope...
It's Christmas time -- the season of Hope.
Opening mail from friends like you,
Learning the joy that comes from honest living.
It's Christmas time - the season of Giving.
Read all the cards and help with the tree,
Eat up the holiday dinner-time feast.
It's Christmas time - the season of Peace.
At all the bright lights everywhere,
Pretty decorations below and above.
It's Christmas time - the season of Love.
By power and gold they measure...
But I've also seen wise men like those of old,
Choosing Truth over treasure.
The quietest time on Earth,
And a young woman's face aglow with love
Just after giving birth.
Taken in and provided for,
And people in crises sharing shelter and food
And opening wide their own doors.
And teaching them right from wrong.
I know he would give his life for them.
I've seen Christmas all year long.
Candles within softly glow as Anthony tells what he knows:
Luminarias they are, symbolizing a great star
That once in heaven shone so bright it led wise men through the night.
And basking in the menorah's glow he tells a story of long ago:
A time of peace after a war... to rededicate the temple there...
Oil enough for one day alone...eight days later, the lamp still shone.
An advent wreath with candles four, symbolizing ancient lore.
He tells them how each week they light one candle until Christmas night.
They talk about a baby fair, then all hold hands and kneel in prayer.
Telling tales that one by one are passed from fathers down to sons.
Here in the golden candle glow we tell the tales of long ago...
For this we share, and we all come to light the candles, one by one.
In poetry and prose
Have her holding Jesus
All wrapped in swaddling clothes,
For Mary was His mother,
And mothers do these things.
They like to hold their babies
And do silly little things.
And held Him to her breast.
She sang to Him so softly,
And rocked Him 'till He slept.
She looked at Him in wonder
At what His life would bring;
She wept at burdens He would bear,
For mothers do these things.
She unwrapped those swaddling clothes,
Touched ten little fingers,
And counted all His toes,
Smiled at His eyelashes,
And a mouth shaped like a rose,
Then her heart held fast as he looked at her,
And she kissed Him on His nose.
Each making a choice in turn.
Our youngest was long in her selection
From the few that she had learned.
We went through Rudolph, Frosty and Santa,
And walked down Santa Claus Lane,
Songs of sleigh bells and wonderland,
And others much the same.
Hark, the Herald Angels Sing,
Noel and Silent Night,
It Came upon a Midnight Clear...
We sang them all that night.
Her choice unmade at midnight,
We'd sung every Christmas song.
At least - we thought we'd sung them all,
But her choice proved us wrong.
She smiled sleepily and requested her song -
So simple, and so true...
And we sang the one song we had forgotten:
"Happy Birthday to You."
Like stars that gathered together and angels who visited Earth,
Three wise men bearing gifts and hosannas in the air,
But for Mary and Joseph, He was a baby in their care.
Did he suck His thumb, or maybe just one finger as He slept?
Did He ever refuse to eat his peas; did He spill His little cup?
Was He impatient to learn new things as He was growing up?
Or brought chaos to Joseph's workshop, tossing sawdust everywhere.
Ah, for us, He is the Lord. He is our Savior fair...
But for Mary and Joseph, He was a baby in their care.
of the lake's waters
draws my gaze
this winter night
There, within the depths
of the still waters
I see
one star
brilliant,
magnificent star
draws my eyes
heavenward
to see the source.
One star, many years ago,
led wise men
to an infant
born in a manger
The reflections of that star
still shine
No, not in the lake...
In those
who still follow
the Star.
sometimes shining brilliantly,
sometimes just
glowing
softly, steadfastly
draws my eyes
heavenward
to see
the Source.
Always seem to last and last,
Not in the baskets or on the tree...
I find it while I am vacuuming!
And it1s under the chairs,
Behind the drapes,
Tucked in the stairs,
In the garden shed,
In the pool filter,
And the hide-a-bed.
Most things don't last
Except Christmas tinsel
And Easter grass.
By all the prophets to be fulfilled.
A carpenter, hands clasped in prayer,
Accepted our Heavenly Father's will.
Knocked on doors all over town.
Finally, in desperation,
At a stable they helped his wife down,
The hands of the carpenter, born of the Earth,
Held in wonder one born of God
As he attended our Saviour's birth.
To get some idea how many were in town,
For thus the governor had ordained.
And from far and wide they came:
People in houses, people in inns...
The census workers didn't know where to begin.
For the homeless and poor. He
Longed to do his Father's will.
They laughed and sent him to the hills,
And after wandering up and down,
He ended up at the edge of town
Where a strange ethereal light
From a stable split the dark of night.
Maybe just more homeless. He thought
That just this once he ought
To leave them be. They would keep
Until morning. Let them sleep.
But a small cry from a baby beckoned,
And the census taker reckoned...
He had been told to count all and any,
Might as well see how many
Got stuck out here this night.
And he walked into the light.
Kneeling, every one, in awe.
He passed them. Stopped. In awe, he knelt.
In his bosom a fire he felt
As he gazed in wonder at the babe
In the manger where he had been laid.
-----------------------------------------
Hours later, he left the light
And wandered back into the night.
The other workers thought he had quit,
And they never knew the truth of it.
He wandered far off in the land
And walked in Heavenly Father's plan,
Telling people of the birth
Of the savior of this Earth.
All they found of his census notes
Was one strange line that he wrote...
"In the darkness of this night
Came the world's saving light."
Be ye as little children, He said.
Become one.
Shine.
Proclaim glad tidings,
Seek for the Divine.
And the cattle stopped lowing
And the Child stopped crying
In the still of the night,
Mary pondered the future
As she held the Babe
Who was the Way, the Truth
And the Light.
The ways He would walk,
From His first toddling steps
To His last, with the cross?
Others' treacherous lies
When His simple truth
Transformed people's lives?
That the light in His eyes
Was greater by far
Than e'en angels in the skies.
In the still of that night
Safe and secure
Before their Egyptian flight,
Mary pondered the future
As she held the Babe
Who was the Way, the Truth
And the Light.
Thoughts of a Mother on the Road.
adapted from Luke 3: 42-51
"We will find him, beloved. He can't be far."
"But the dangers, Joseph, the dangers..."
Did someone take him in the night and rearrange our
Lives this way? Jesus is missing. I can't believe it.
Is the next town Jerusalem? I can't perceive it.
Why is it taking so long? Can't we go faster?
Why does my heart pound in my breast at this disaster?
Is he all right? Please tell me, Father.
I know you've wars and such to mind, but I must bother
You right now because my heart just needs to know
If he's in danger. I love him so......
And the angels sang hosannas as I felt him,
And my need to be needed formed an earthly bond between us
As his need for our love and care kept him in between us.
But now a young man, a babe no more...
When did he grow so tall; did I not know before
That some day he would leave us, his mission to fulfill?
I knew the plan was always that he would do his Father's will,
But I'm not ready...he's so young...it can't be time.
Something must have happened. I am so scared. Will we find
New House For Christmas
We've just moved ourselves, you see;
Dec 79
Jack has just turned five, Lori's all of ten.
Dec 80
(Based on the melody and concept of the song made famous by Julie Andrews in "The Sound of Music,"--My Favorite Things.)
Angels and ribbons and candles a'glowing
Santa and Mrs and all of the elves there
When it's too cold
Christmas tree's done now - it's not too bad looking.
When it's too cold
It's a wreath upon the door to welcome one and all,
It's caroling - singing the songs we know well
Good friends and neighbors, relatives so dear --
Christmas is all these things, but most importantly;
It is the cry of a Babe from a stable crude and bare,
Dec 82
Daddy likes turkey and taters and pie,
Mama likes bells with their glad hearted ringing,
Sister likes angels and tree trimming too
Brother likes to set up the manger scene,
Baby's bright eyes sparkle and stare
Dec 83
Christmas All Year Long
I've seen men like Herod who chose the wrong path;
I've seen sheep grazing in the stillness of night,
I've seen families with nowhere to go
I've seen a father protecting his family
Dec 84
In the cold night three boys stand looking at sacks filled with sand.
They go to Aaron's house, where he shows them nine beautiful candles there
Next we find them all at Joe's. What is this to them he shows?
Other boys in distant lands lighting candles, holding hands,
Dec 85
All the tales of Mary
She shushed His cries of hunger
And I know (as a mother)...
Dec 85, rev 98
We were singing the songs of Christmas,
1987
We think of wonders and miracles when we celebrate His birth,
Did He ever carry His blanket across the floors His mother swept?
Perhaps He tangled His mother's weaving with chubby fingers there,
Dec 88
The blue velvet softnesss
One
The reflection
My mind wanders back to...
Their light can be seen,
The reflection
Dec 89
Christmas Tinsel and Easter Grass
Christmas tinsel and Easter grass
Late spring cleaning,
Summertine finds it
It seems nowadays
3/05/89
The time had come for the stories told
His hands, so calloused and hardened and worn,
And when, that night, the child was born,
Dec 86, rev 98
The census team was going around
One young man had sympathy
Three shepherds with their sheep he saw
91/98
Come, Follow Me, He said.
To follow the Child,
To follow the Star,
To follow the Angels,
To follow the Wise Men,
When the angels stopped singing
I wonder, did she see
And I wonder, did she hear
And I think that she saw
While Joseph stood by
December 1997
Summary: When Jesus was twelve his family went to Jerusalem. On the return trip, Mary and Joseph realized that Jesus was not with relatives as they had thought, and frantically returned the day's journey to Jerusalem. When they finally found him in the temple, his mother asked, "Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us? behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing." And he told them he must be about his Father's business, but he was subject to them and returned to Nazareth with them, and Mary kept all these things in her heart.
Missing. "Where can he be, Joseph? Where can he be? "
Missing. My son is missing. Is he lost, is he hurt, is he in danger?
My heart goes back in time to when I held him,
This child of mine?
Susan M. Chisam 1998