Christmas

Steely sky seeps soft snowflakes
gathering like a gown on green grass
untouched, virgin, bright white

Animal paw prints appear, pathway
across, birds beaks seek suet balls
birdsong greets our ears, joyful

Late sunrise darkens days, waking hard
early sunset evenings are warmed
by flickering flames of hearth fires

Church bells ring out to greet the morn
the day Christ was born, everyone celebrates
first day of longer light, day of my birth

Chrissie Morris Brady

@purbeckpoet

chrissiemorrisbrady.wordpress.com

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

The Birth Day Of The Sun: Part I

The eve of day least sunlit:
bleat of sheep in bleak mid-winter
nocturne, nestled ‘midst one ‘nother
‘neath thatched, woodbeamed shelter.

The solstice aft’ the death-throes
of the sun rend the horizon;
sinking flame o’erlaid by th’lifeless
cloak, adorned with silent stars.

Heat-death quietude – the solar
spirit stands in stillness; solitary
sings the servant girl til
joined by lowing chorus.

A ewe, alone in wand’ring
on the outskirts of the town,
lies down in purity, her lamb
of mourning left to chase the Jordan.

Bayit-Lekhem in wintrous calm as
coarsest night kills evening.
The hovels house their sleepful rest,
passed o’er by angelus.

Wisps o’whispers – wistless – waft
o’er deepest valley wide;
peak: the tippingturningtidefall
moves the waters – breaking – west.

My name is William Altoft. I’m a writer in and from (and consistently on) Bristol, in the UK.
WordPress: https://williamaltoft.blog/
Instagram: instagram.com/williamaltoft/

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Rennaisance

As the morning kisses the earth
I kiss my problems,
My worries, my insecurities,
My obstacles and nightmares alike

As the sky illuminates the silhouettes of the night
And the world outside is awash with blue,
I’m languidly opening my eyes
Opening to the new beginning
Darkness has embarked into the recesses of hibernation,
And so have my troubles
From caterpillar to a butterfly I’m reborn
Born to the grandeur of the earth
Born to soar in splendor
Born with a deaf ear,
That which won’t listen to the pessimists
They’d have me believe that I’m useless
Something to be ashamed of
But nah, I’m deaf!

When you look at me
I hope you see a butterfly,
A butterfly that was once a caterpillar
I hope you see a chick,
A chick that has broken free from the shell
A flower that has survived the winter
A smiley lover who has had so many Judas kisses
I hope you see a Mugumo tree with no leaves, but still surviving

Tomorrow at the spawn of first light,
I’ll shout for all to hear
That yes, all was for the final good!

I’m Jamin from Kenya. I love writing and reading as well and I also love poetry bar. I write poems and fictional stories most of which I post on my blog. Kindly follow me on wordpress @ j4min.wordpress.com and also my facebook page @ Jamin Clement.

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Dawn of Peaceful Kashmir

I want to embrace the petals of rose with my blood
As the thorns of separation penetrate deep in my firger tips
Tears and tears only! Where could I hide my pain?
You fell before my eyes and I saw you falling
What more can I say? A deep silence has covered me like the winter snow

O, the loved ones of Kashmir!
You left the depths in us when you entered the graves
Who will fill them? Only tears fall and get lost in them
I want to embrace myself with your blood
But you stand so far! Unreachable to me

Left are our ailing heart and crying souls
Left in us is a hope to meet you after this world
Left in us are prayers to heal the wounded gardens
Our Apple orchads are grieved by looking at faces taking care of them
Only graveyard are peaceful where you are resting
As our homes are cages and our streets are battlegrounds
Weapons and weapons only! In this reign of suppression

Deadly silence has overtaken our senses
Pain is ashamed before us to cause more of it
We now stand in a hope for the dawn to come
Dawn of peaceful Kashmir

My name is Salman wani and I live in Kashmir. We are in great trouble and have been struggling for our rights. I want you all to pray for my valley. You can follow me on my blog

https://noorvoice.blog/

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

The Christmas Pup

Christmas Eve night, Santa spotted below
a small form huddled on new-fallen snow;
and though his journey was just under way,
he ordered the reindeer to land his sleigh.

As soon as it touched down, out with a bound,
he ran to the figure hunched on the ground.
Kneeling beside it and scooping it up
he found that he held a husky-wolf pup.

Snow was still falling; it soon would be deep.
Santa had a schedule he had to keep.
Quickly he carried the pup to his sleigh,
tucked her in snugly and lifted away.

He said “Don’t you worry, just hold on tight.
I’ll get you back safely after this night.”
The pup was quiet, for she understood
that Santa intended nothing but good.

Nestled in his quilt, warmth enfolded her,
settled as the chill eased from her fur,
she felt Santa’s magic touching her too;
but only a pup, what good could she do?

They flew to a house Santa was dreading;
where a guard dog slept warm in his bedding.
Easily wakened, he could not be shushed.
Each step and movement would have to be hushed.

A board creaked just once, and though Santa froze,
that dog was instantly up on his toes.
Santa turned sadly, no toys for this place;
but wonder replaced the frown on his face.

At the soft voice of the husky-wolf pup,
the guard dog below had quieted up.
His smile returning, Santa looked around
as the big dog relaxed and laid back down.

So it continued; at each place they’d go,
the pup would speak to the pets down below.
Each one responded, to Santa’s delight;
he could not recall an easier night.

Soon they were done and he said to the pup
“Now we’ll hurry back to look your folks up.”
But as he reached down to scratch the pup’s ears
he saw that her eyes were filling with tears.

“My mom named me Better,” she said, forlorn,
“cause it was better I’d never been born.
No human will trust the wolf blood in me
and in the wolf pack, they’ll not let me be.”

“Sweet pup,” cried Santa, “I’d give my right arm
before I would take you back into such harm.
You’ll ride here beside me, snug, safe and warm,
and have a new name; you’re now my luck Charm.”

Dear friends, ever since that Christmas Eve night,
this little pup’s life has turned out just right.
Alongside Santa, Charm rides in his sleigh
calming the pets at each house on their way.

By: Michael Williams / December 6, 2008 / Last Updated December 11, 2019

My name is Michael Williams, and I post as Boardflak at http://thepeacefulpub.com/ where I am one of a group of poets. There are three other poets currently active, so for anyone visiting please also look in the right sidebar for the latest posts by craigrkirchner, gwendrina, and jantanleo.
I became a quadriplegic at the end of June 2015. I have continued my writing using voice recognition software.

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Panic at the…

Slinking through the crowd.
Voices jumbled, colors loud.
Walls are compacting, now closing.
Mannequins imposting.
Staring and over beating.
Fleeing through molasses.
Twisting turning, there go my glasses.
Stopping, thrown through a loop.
Breathing erratic, trying to regroup.
Boxed in, can’t breathe.
Panic stricken, need to leave.
Thoughts racing,
Legs bracing.
Tear stricken cheeks.
Worst in weeks.
Crumpled on the floor,
Can’t take it anymore.
Slow as it was fast,
Fear subsided at last.
Another trip; ends in sorrow.
Fuck it, there’s always tomorrow.

My name is Jesse, I am a writer. I post both poetry and mental health pieces about my own struggles and journey on my blog here: https://oneregulardad.home.blog/

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com

Orion Returns

To the east, lest the Sun arise from slumber
the ghost of the shimmering summer dawn
reveals himself in the heat of the season,
hunting for souls who dream, to mesmerize

The winter hunter strays from the frozen north
taunting, enticing, those who will be his prey
a spectre of the sky, before we awake
He casts his nets, his arrows, his poison darts

World sleep on, the Moon has not yet swooned
in Sun’s jealous skies, room for no other till she tires
and sinks to her bed, Orion will seek
those who seek him in the darkest hour

Chrissie Morris Brady

@purbeckpoet

chrissiemorrisbrady.wordpress.com

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If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog and Instagram account to the e-mail poetrybar1@gmail.com