\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
    December    
2018
SMTWTFS
      
4
7
9
11
17
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Archive RSS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2081410-constructing-poetry/day/12-12-2018
by Rhyssa Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Book · Contest Entry · #2081410

my entries for the Construct Cup

It's that time again. Time when I lose all sense of proportion and sanity and agree to write a poem a day following prompts exactly as given by our fearless leaders (aka Ren the Klutz! Author Icon and Fyn Author Icon. I may not survive. But I will do it anyway, mostly because I can't imagine anyone having this much agony fun without me.

Come join us! We have cookies. And possibly, straitjackets.

 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#2065770 by Not Available.
December 12, 2018 at 12:34am
December 12, 2018 at 12:34am
#947310
today I got a Christmas card
with magic Christmas power—
you see, I peeled the envelope
and slipped back many hours

and days, and years until I found
myself inside the card,
riding on a one horse sleigh
into a church courtyard.

the horse’s harness rang with bells,
the sleigh was robin red,
to keep me warm I had a fur
confection on my head,

the church’s windows gave a glow—
‘twas clearly candle light,
and all the air was filled with snow.
a perfect Christmas night.

and snow lay even on the ground
and roofs and trees—so sweetly.
(that’s how I knew the scene was staged,
snow never lies so neatly)

near the church to welcome me,
and Merry Christmas bringing,
was a group of carolers,
and all of them were singing.

that’s when my eyes began to blur
because they were my dead—
my grandparents, my nephew, yes.
I tumbled from the sled,

and raced to greet them tenderly
and sang with them all night—
the magic of that Christmas card
held us, ‘til dawn’s light.

and then I blinked and in my hands
the card was small again,
the ink was faint—I couldn’t tell
just who had sent it, then.

and as I watched, it faded fast
to leave an empty card.
no picture of an open sleigh
in a snowy yard.

no candle sticks through windowpanes,
no painted snow capped roof.
nothing remained of this sweet gift
that I could count as proof,

but in my heart, the memory stands
and yes, I still believe
in magic, and in my dead who
are loved eternally.

line count: 48

Prompt


© Copyright 2018 Rhyssa (UN: sadilou at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Rhyssa has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2081410-constructing-poetry/day/12-12-2018