December Poem of the Month contest

For December, the Poem of the Month prompt is: Write a poem about a gift. It doesn’t have to be holiday-oriented (though it certainly may), but could be about a favorite childhood present, or the “presence” of someone special in your life. Tell us about something you value and cherish.

When your poem is finished, copy and paste it as a comment on this post. Be sure to include the poem’s title, your name and your township of residence.

Happy writing!

About Stacia M. Fleegal

York Daily Record multiplatform journalist. Degrees in creative writing from Lycoming College and Spalding University, and a coupla books with my name on them. Central PA native who came home after floating around for a while, but always grounded by words and the places and people I remember.
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6 Responses to December Poem of the Month contest

  1. Lightning struck the water and froze
    A salty tear drop from heaven
    Trapped inside crystallized sea foam
    Buried high up on a mountain

    Surroundings chipped by iron claw
    Behind waterfalls of gravel
    Vertical waves began to thaw
    In their wake the tears unraveled

    The tear drops fell from places high
    Tranquil blue in peaceful tumble
    They hit, they broke, they multiplied
    Beauty found under the rubble

    Their destiny to be transformed
    Their outer shells melted away
    Then set in metal to be worn
    Over the hearts of young mermaids

    – Aqua
    By Kristopher Ivie
    Hellam Township

  2. J. Love Kearse says:

    (a poem for the day I met the spirit that is Sonia Sanchez)

    wide eyed
    as little children on
    Christmas Day
    waiting with
    tiptoe anticipation
    for what gifts my way come
    heart open
    enlarged like baby birds beaks
    at feeding time
    regurgitate your 10 Haiku for me
    I am hungry
    feed my frailty
    until it becomes my strength
    I am all in
    receptive of
    spirit food
    trading pens and pages
    names, information
    embracing her
    eternal sermon
    “it will get better”
    with every morning chant
    and the continuous
    silvering of dread locks
    pull closer
    and smile
    frames frozen in memorial
    to all that is good
    in this moment
    pull closer
    and stay
    in this place
    her head gently rested on my shoulder
    I wanted to hold her there
    to glean poetic genius
    through osmosis
    envelop her wisdom in my naivety
    until they are both balanced in equal measure
    glad to bring an offering
    of ignorance
    to the sage
    in exchange for the impartation of life
    grateful to stand
    in the presence of greatness
    to be called

    by J. Love Kearse
    Conewago Township

  3. Shane Haddaway says:

    The Gift of The Twinkle

    See ribbons swim through themselves under Saintly cover of the pine, dashing and splashing gracefully, one box at a time.
    Laying wake, ever carefully in the lights of Christmas morning, yet the twinkle has not yet found an eye.
    Magic and wonder breathe tinsled crispness through the air, stirs and quiet purrs are soon to rise with wild stares, bedside as the time arrives and it is Christmas morning, yet the twinkle has not yet found an eye.
    Frenzied shreddings of graceful ribboned splashes sink the floor, fractured ornamental sentiments and wrappings tore, a child turns and smiles at her Dad on Christmas morning, and now the twinkle has found an eye.

    Shane Haddaway
    Glen Rock, Pa

  4. Mira Hurtt says:

    Ender’s Gift

    The teachers value it why do I not?
    And the other children seem to hate me
    I have tried to make peace but we just fought
    My gift is a curse, why can’t we just be
    Friends? No isolation or pain at all
    Military strength, it is helpful now
    My gift led to the buggers sad downfall
    All of the children respect me and bow
    But inside, they know I am not their boss
    I may be strong but I am also weak
    In the woods surrounding the lake the moss
    And lichen, stretch up to the highest peak.
    My name is Wiggin, Ender Wiggin why
    Can’t I be free too why can’t I just fly?

    By Mira Hurtt

  5. Amy Kern Triantafyllou says:

    Apparitions of Christmas Past

    Christmas Eve 2013…crisp outside. A high wind and a flurry or two. It’s dark with exception of a few brilliant stars. It’s quiet on the farm. Few cars on the road now. I guess everyone is settling down with family and friends. Pre celebration for the celebration which awaits tomorrow. Trees…lights…delectable delights…there’s a magic in the air this time of year.
    The old house is cozy. Lights dimly lit. On the arm chair I sit..and wonder just how many trees did this house see? How many children in its two hundred year history, woke up to a surprise just waiting for them? A orange..a book..a puppy?
    How many generations of lovers raised their families in my home? Did the logs on the wall witness more laughter or tears?
    Many many years…
    The farmhouse stands through another Christmas season. No big party tonight. Just me…and the three…warming my lap before the fire. They enjoy the solitude, and my haven from the race outside. I do too.
    I miss my fore fathers and mothers. Another generation lost but not forgotten by me.
    If my house could speak..the stories it could tell. I have all night. I would listen…and listen well.

    Amy Kern Triantafyllou
    North Codorus Twp

  6. Larry B. Tibbs says:

    A Gift I Give Unto You

    In a little town
    In a manger
    No crying he makes

    Angels bending near…sing
    Peace…good will toward men

    He increased in wisdom and stature
    Know ye not…I must be about my father’s business

    Come…follow me…I will make you fishers of men
    Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me
    My yoke is easy, and my burden is light
    Come unto me…and I will give you rest

    This is the first and great commandment…
    And the second is like unto it…
    Love thy neighbour as thyself

    Hounour thy father and thy mother
    Thou shalt not kill
    Thou shalt not steal
    Thou shalt not…
    Thou shalt…

    Blessed are the poor…
    Blessed are the meek…
    Blessed are the peacemakers…
    Blessed are…
    Blessed are…

    Arise…take up thy bed and walk

    He spat on the ground and made clay
    He annointed the eyes of the blind man
    Go, wash

    He took the loaves and small fishes and gave thanks
    When the hungry were filled
    They gathered up twelve baskets of fragments

    Woman, where are thine accusers?
    Hath no man condemned thee?
    Neither do I condemn thee: Go…

    Mary weeping…if thou hadst been here
    my brother had not died
    Where have ye laid him?
    Lazarus, come forth

    Thirty pieces of silver

    Could ye not watch with me one hour?
    If thou be willing, remove this cup from me
    Nevertheless, not my will, but thine

    He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter
    He was wounded for our transgressions
    He was bruised for our iniquities
    With his stripes we are healed

    Forgive them, for they know not what they do
    It is finished…into thy hands I commend my spirit

    They laid him in the tomb
    The stone rolled closed…
    …the stone rolled open

    He is not here
    Why seek ye the living among the dead?
    He is risen!

    Mary wept
    Woman…why weepest thou?

    Thomas…be not faithless, but believing
    Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands
    Reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side

    I believe; help my unbelief

    …many mansions…
    I go to prepare a place for you
    …that where I am, there ye may be also

    While I’m gone
    I will not leave you comfortless
    He shall give you another comforter
    The comforter shall teach you…and bring all things to your remembrance

    As I have loved you, love one another
    Go ye into all the world
    What ye have seen me do…go and do likewise

    I am the way, the truth, and the life
    Yet a little while, and…

    I shall come again

    A Gift I Give Unto You
    Larry B. Tibbs
    26 December 2013
    Spring Garden TWP

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