X-mas Without Presents

Hi, I'm making a contest now. It must be based on, or about...Christmas without presents!

Okay, the rules are...

You must be the author of the poem
No explicit, erotic, violent-ness.
Contest ends Dec. 18.
There will only be one winner, who will get a short Christmas story written by me, delievered by e-mail before Christmas.
I am the only judge of this contest.
No more than two poems per poet.
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Okay, Merry X-mas Everyone! Have fun!

-beth

*********Scroll to the bottom for a little teaser of the story. Although I haven't mentioned it yet, the story is about Christmas, although also about spying and some ALIAS type action...
Okay, please submit some poems!!

Frost among the window of my room,
There is a sence of joy, happiness, and gloom.
The alarm clock buzzes, but I'm already awake,
Because it's christmas, and presents are at stake.

I run down the stairs, being careful not to fall,
However at the bottom of the stairs, I do stall.
I run to the tree, hoping I'm wrong,
This can't be the day I've been waiting for, for so long.

I go through the presents one by one,
But a frown has come to my face, that's replaced the sun.
I read the cards, attached to each,
But none to me, have I been impeached?

There is nothing to me, everyone else opens joyful,
Everyone smiling and hugging, and beings thankful.
Except for me, I sit in the corner and cry,
Has everyone forgot about me, did I die?

I say, hey what about me?
They say oh we forgot, sorry.
The day goes by, not a present in sight,
That isn't unwrapped, and now it is night.

The company leaves, with a hug and a kiss,
I guess that I'll never know just what I missed.
So I head off to bed, with a tear in my eye,
I forget the sugarplums dancing, as I let out a sigh.

Yes, I know this is bad, but I've never written a poem about christmas before...lol

~*Who Cares?*~

A CHRISTMAS WITHOUT PRESENTS.

It melted like the snow,
On that Christmas day,
The pleasure of a child,
From where the presents lay.

For on that very spot, where
The tree did used to be,
Lay nothing but a hat,
And a child’s thwarted plea.

“But where are all the presents Mommy?
Where have they all gone now?
They were under the tree Mommy,
By the lowest bough.”

Her mother shook her head,
And took her by the hand,
“The tree was never there dear,
Nor the presents grand.”

Every little scrap of paper
Every shiny bow,
Had never even been there,
But from her mind did grow.

Every year, of that child’s life,
Santa never came,
He never brought the presents grand
But left her there in shame.

Laura XxX

The hollow flame of christmas
is but a memory
suspended in the wind;
unanimated and sore.

a discordant lullaby
self-seething
and unsettling to the touch.

resonating within
the emptiness
a frost-bitten chill
no amount of soothing
could thaw.

and in all my selfishness,
not once did i wonder
if maybe,
it wasn't
meant to be felt
like it was
and did
that first time.

I got a letter the other day,
from santa clause himself.
I thought I'd knew just what he'd say,
So I stuck that letter on top of the shelf.

Being the best girl I possibly can,
I walk around with a smile.
Helping momma, sister and dad,
We're settin' up presents, in a small pile.

The christmas tree is standing tall,
Dressed in ornaments and lights.
The tinsel shines like a silver shawl,
Our family will gather 'round it tonight.

Atleast that's what our plans were,
Before things had gone wrong.
Instead we are thinking of ways to cure,
These flames with a family christmas song.

We watch our house burn to the ground,
No presents left to shake.
But even with this tragedy, I've found,
That I need no presents to take.

I'm greatful for the things I have,
Even though my home is gone,
And when my family waits in a cab,
Never has our love so brightly shone.

In the morning, we'll have no gifts
But I'll have everyone by my side,
With that thought, my heart lifts
There's no sorrow left to subside.

Hey, I never actaully thought of writing about that experience, but I spose it worked out alright. Hope you like it.

Okay, thanks everyone for submitting.
Anyone else?
Just a few more entries, and I will begin writing my christmas story.
Oh, and a few more days and I'll give you a little piece of it...just to get some enthusiasm.

Good Writing!
beth

What it must feel for a Jewish kid (or Jehovah Witness)

As I see all of these Christmas trees, so beautiful and touching
I also feel cold Winter's breeze which ought to be worth loving
I can see lights through people's windows, and I look at mine
To see them with no Christmas decorations
Sometimes when this happens I want to cry
It's such an irritation

I remember so very long ago
I received a Christmas present for the first time
And now I'm not allowed to even celebrate
If only truth could lie

Truth is, daddy won't let me
He says it's very, very bad
"You can't do Easter or Halloween"
But missing Christmas makes me sad
For Christmas is supposed to be
Where you huddle up by the fireplace
Drink hot cocoa, open presents
Have family and friends put a smile on your face

Even if there weren't presents, I still would want to go
Visit auntie's house, paint some mugs, I wish someone would know
How I yearn to have a celebration
Not work hard and get nothing in return
Christmas... to celebrate Jesus' birth
If not that, then what's it worth?

I already have a family
Which so many letters to Santa ask for
I have many friends that care for me
Whom I do adore
I guess Christmas is supposed to be fun
But what about me?
For I do not get materials
Or even a Christmas tree
Even though I have the things that count
I always think things could get better
If only someone else thought the same
If they opened one of my Christmas letters

I know what it's like to be a Jewish kid
Or a Jehovah witness
I tell you, daddy's both
He just won't admit it
He celebrates Thanksgiving
Only 'cause we force him
He makes life not feel like living
Like surviving on a whim

I like Christmas, I really do
I just wish I had something to give
I guess that right now I should be greatful
Just to live

If I could make a wishlist
I'd ask not to even be close to poor
To have nice clothes, an MP3 and oh so much more
Others don't know how lucky they are
To just own a cat
Mommy says I can't have pets
What's the use of that?

I wish one day I could have a Christmas
Without daddy making me look like a Jewish kid
'Till then I'll pretend to be happy
Just like I always did
I'll still get those used presents
That my friend's sister didn't want
I wish I had a Christmas
Without it being gone...

I wish I could buy you the world, my dear,
but I just can't afford it all this year.
Nothing cheap is good enough.

You're at the age now that you can understand
that we do what we must, we do what we can,
but the dollars never quite add up.

You're one of those that the magic never leaves,
but you curse as you hang the lights on the tree,
and you cry as your boots crush the snow.

Try to sink into your friends, have to hear them talk
of what they'll be getting, and what they've got,
and you're stuck with nowhere to go.

It's not that they won't give you things, they're unable,
and you think of the poor boy born in a stable...
money won't buy his love.

Then you remember frankencense, myrrh and gold,
even he was showered with gifts of old.
Where's the humility they all speak of?

But this will pass, as all things do,
and you'll never forget what you've been through,
it will help you in the end.

That's probably not what you want to hear,
but I'll say it again, I'll say it clear,
this Christmas, you at least have a friend.

Great poems everyone!

Harrumph...come on, doesn't anyone want a Christmas story?

Oh well...

-beth

It was strange, finding out that your mum was a top secret agent, a part-time spy and right now living in a prisoner's base, surrounded by guards...maybe even torturing devices--

Amanda woke up so suddenly she slammed her head on the top bunk of her sister's bed as she rocketed away from the covers, dragging the sheets with her in a vain attempt to get away from her dreams.
She'd been having nightmares ever since the man in the black jacket had visited their house and explained to the two sisters why their mother had been missing for two days.
Emily hadn't taken the news very well, bursting into tears and running upstairs. Outwardly, Amanda had attempted a brave face, a plastic smile and a curt farewell, but inside she had been suffering.
She should had known that her mother was up to something, with the slamming and sudden hiding of books and folders whenever Amanda ventured into a room, and the stiff, elegant clothes stashed at the back of the cupboard...of course, they had been armour.
Of course, she hadn't been going to the library or grocery store those times that she ran out without giving a proper explanation. She had never returned with a book, or a bag of food...

"Again?" said Emily, peering over from where she had been awoken.
"Yes, just the same," answered Amanda. She paced the room, thinking over all the times she should have asked what was happening, and she never had.

"Em?"
"Yeah?"
"Is mum alive, do you think?"
"You better believe it, sis. Our mum is a fighter. Are you going to go back to sleep now?"
"No, not just yet," said Amanda. In her head, an impossible plan was forming.
But she couldn't let Emily know.
Well, not just yet anyway.

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Okay, this a brief piece of the story.
The winner gets the whole lot.
Start submitting!

-beth

I thought it was a rather nice subject...

i like this subject...n i wrote on it...n if i could force other ppl 2 rite on it..im sure they wood...just wait...im sure more ppl will post soon....lol

~*Who Cares?*~

The winner is Steph. Great poem

*happy* thanks lots!!! Nice poems everyone!