So May You Be Happy at This Time

So may you be happy at this time,
Even as the sun turns back again,
A simple fact, a symbol, and a sign
Some would find but little meaning in.
Out of what we see we make ourselves,
Needing to be taught that ancient art.
Souls born when the woods were full of elves
Give lessons in the shaping of the heart.
Reason now supplies an explanation
Equal to the workings of the will,
Exact in each elliptical equation
That would all cant and superstition still.
In numbers, though, there is great mystery,
Nor is what we measure what we see,
Giving space for poetry and dance,
Song and celebration, choice and chance.
So Shall All This Pillow Talk
So shall all this pillow talk
End in gifts and preparations,
As all other topics balk,
Suddenly on quarter rations.
Old memories now come a-haunting,
New revived by repetition,
Summoned by a wistful wanting,
Given one's unwilled condition.
Render, then, the season's song,
Embracing both the work and play
Equally, as both belong
To cherishing the holiday.
In love and weary duty go,
Needing tokens to bestow,
Graced with many loved ones who
Shall soon bestow their gifts on you.
When You Read This, We'll Be Wed
When you read this, we'll be wed,
A married couple wishing you
A Merry Christmas, New Year's too,
And happiness in days ahead.
May we all be joined in love,
And share the joys with which we're blessed,
Bear with charm and grace the rest,
And to all good neighbors prove.
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Midnight Miracles Make Quiet Mornings

Midnight Miracles Make Quiet Mornings
Midnight miracles make quiet mornings.
Even God sleeps peaceful on the breast.
Restless nights result in dreamy dawnings,
Revelations ripe for sunlit rest.
Years of love lie drowsy, slug-a-bed.
Choices seem to snuggle, sleeping in.
Holiness is happiness instead,
Rich in all that gathers grace within.
In love of God or man, the Earth must turn.
Songs of angels come in troubled times.
The miracle of witness one must earn,
Moving to transfigure one's own crimes.
As faith and love require restful sleep,
So, too, must they their midnight vigils keep.
Mind Is Not the Medium for Joy
Mind is not the medium for joy.
Each word should be a bell within the heart,
Ringing like a wind-tossed, wave-tossed buoy,
Restless in the grip of polished art.
Years should be a cry of sculpted stone;
Christmases long past, an oak-voiced choir,
Harmonies that hollow out the bone,
Rich with longing, reckless with desire.
If meaning but had meaning, words would be
Salient as the resonance of brass,
Tearing chunks of glory from the sea,
Melting steel with love for things that pass.
All I would, I could to you convey
Should I find words that might such non-words say.
Miracles Have a Way of Making News
Miracles have a way of making news.
Even skeptics stare at parted seas.
Religious or not--Christians, Muslims, Jews--
Resurrection brings them to their knees!
Years ago, miracles were in vogue:
Christ and Moses wowed the willing crowds;
Holy icons healed both saint and rogue;
Rare wonders were ascribed to cups and shrouds.
In our time miracles are everyday,
So few can hope to grab us, or astound.
The mysteries that clutter up our way
May seem much more perplexing than profound.
And yet life is miraculous: to be
Surpasses any wonder we might see.
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Christmas Is a Time for Love and Fun

Christmas Is a Time for Love and Fun
Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to reshape souls and roots and skies,
A time to give your heart to everyone
Freely, like a rich and lavish sun,
Like a burning star to those whose lonely sighs
Show need of such a time for love and fun.
For children first, whose pain is never done,
Whose bright white fire of anguish never dies,
It's time to give your heart to every one,
That not one angel fall, to hatred won
For lack of ears to listen to her cries,
Or arms to carry him towards love and fun,
Or friends to care what happens on the run
To adult life, where joy or sadness lies.
It's time to give your heart to everyone,
For God loves all, and turns His back on none,
Good or twisted, ignorant or wise.
Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to give your heart to everyone.
Christmas Is for Cowards and for Thieves
Christmas is for cowards and for thieves.
How might they be loved as dearest friends?
Redemption starts where satisfaction ends.
Instinctively, one does as one believes.
So did Christ love everyone the same
That everyone might love the same as he.
Most children that are loved will loving be
As they become the people they became.
So shall you love all creatures in his name.
Christmas Isn't Easy Far Apart
Christmas isn't easy far apart.
Holidays are an incessant bell
Ringing through the hollows of the heart,
Invading passages I know too well.
So does Christmas trespass on my sadness,
Taking precious room I save for you.
Missing you is a reclusive madness,
Altering each harmony and hue,
Shadowing each shade I vacant view.
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Charity Begins Where Interest Ends

Charity Begins Where Interest Ends
Charity begins where interest ends,
Having little interest but in giving,
Removing self from self, that there be space
In which a much-loved guest might feel at home.
So might one find delight, though ravens rend
The unembroidered fabric of one's being:
Miracle of unrequited grace,
A wave of wonder welling up from stone,
Singing as it breaks of selfless grieving.
Cheer Is Not What You'd Expect from Christmas
Cheer is not what you'd expect from Christmas:
Headaches are more like it, lack of sleep,
Raw nerves, rough words, waits to make you weep,
Irritable hours, days, intense, relentless.
So much money, time, so many dreams
Tied to one quick wanton winter's morning,
More an orgy than a merry dawning,
A ritual divorced from what it means.
Still, each year the love within it gleams.
Christmas Is a Holiday for Friends
Christmas is a holiday for friends,
However they may be, or not, related.
Remember that the three wise kings were strangers
In search of one remote, uncanny dream.
So may we all be far more than we seem,
Together bound for dark and haunting changes,
More lovely for the loves we have created
Along the lonely paths from means to ends,
Stumbling towards that star of Bethlehem.
Christmas Is a Time of Little Time
Christmas is a time of little time.
How we get there is a mystery.
Racing madly mall-to-mall, we climb
Into fields of sunlit harmony.
Shopping, cooking, clearing walks and yards,
Trimming house and tree while working, too;
Making phone calls, wrapping, writing cards,
As all worn out we do what we must do
So that this day of joy might joy renew.
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Türk Malı 8. Bölüm Fragmanı izle Türk Malı 8. Bölüm

Show Tv nin matrak dizilerinden birisi olan Türk Malı dizisinin yeni bölümü Pazartesi günü oynadı. Türk Malı 8. Bölüm Fragmanı izlemek için sitemizi takip edebilirsiniz. Fragman yayınlanınca eklenecektir. Türk Malı 7. Bölüm izle

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Türk Malı 7. Bölüm izle

Pazartesi akşamlarının sevilen matrak dizilerinden birisi olan Türk Malı dizisinin yeni bölümü 26 Nisan 2010 Pazartesi günü Show Tv'de. Türk Malı 7. Bölüm izlemek için sitemizi takip edebilirsiniz. Türk Malı 8. Bölüm Fragmanı izlemek içinde sitemizi ziyaret ediniz. Fragman yayınlanınca eklenecektir. İyi Seyirler...

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