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Posts Tagged ‘Christmas’

REMEMBERING HIS DAY

Granddaughter baked a cake last night
And topped it today with candlelight
Then asked the children to come near
She had a story for them to hear

A story about a Holy birth
When God sent His Son to earth
This is our Savior’s special day
She said, as they bowed heads to pray

There’d be no Christmas on this earth
Without our precious Savior’s birth
Let’s not forget God’s gift to man
And honor Him, whenever we can

The children then blew out the flame,
As they sang praises in His name.
Happy Birthday, Jesus, they sang out
In their efforts to be devout

I’m sure God smiled when He heard them sing
Pleased that they were remembering

12/15/89 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

Written for the Cory family (Sharon and boys)

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THE ANGEL ON OUR TREE

There she reigns, with dignity
Atop our Christmas tree
The place of honor that’s been hers
Since 1943

And as I stand and gaze at her
The years just fade away
As the precious gift of memory
Recalls my yesterday

I see the mounting excitement
As the children gather near
While we make preparations for
The best time of the year

The tree, in nature’s beauty
Stands with outstretched arms
As little hands adorn her
With pretty man-made charms

And when it’s finally gifted
With tinsel, lights, and snow
It awaits the final treasure
Our Angel’s special glow

And so the Angel’s taken
And is handed up to me
For the childrens’ arms cannot reach
The tip-top of the tree

As I place her gently on the top
And Dad plugs in the light
The joy I see in the childrens’ eyes
Is such a lovely sight

And now, it is the present
The years have flown so fast
But our Angel is still with us
A token from the past

Her wings are bent a little
And dust has grayed her hair
Her gown is somewhat soiled and frayed
But still, she hovers there

Signature’s Of Love, I call
The smudges on her face
They were placed there by the children
Before I put her in her place

Her halo may have slipped a bit
But casts its golden glow
Down through the laden branches
Onto the ones below

And when it’s time to take her down
She’s packed away with care
For as long as we shall have a tree
Our Angel must be there

12/17/71 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

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UNTIL NEXT YEAR

‘Tis the evening of Christmas and in our old house
The snoring shakes windows . . . I speak of my spouse
He said he’s exhausted, though not one to shirk
He just looked on, as I did the work

I purchased and wrapped ….. ‘twas left up to me
Baked cookies galore and put up the tree
Now the kids are playing with a few old toys
The new ones are broken; so much for new joys

The floor is quite messy with boxes and bows
And discarded ribbons . . . along with new clothes
New puppy just did what puppies do best
He wet on the floor, his hourly quest.

The fireplace clogged – I was choking on smoke
My husband kept snoring and never awoke
The tree got knocked over – I cleaned up the mess
What happens next, is anyone’s guess

Hot chocolate spilled from a broken mug
And cookies got ground right into the rug
The turkey’s a carcass, the leftover’s, few
I’m left with the dishes, but that’s nothing new

And out in the kitchen where pans are piled high
I scrub and I scour, and I sigh . . . and I sigh
Am I tired? You bet! I’ve stayed up too late
So fell fast asleep with my face in my plate

We waited all year for this wonderful day
And I’m glad that the next one’s A FULL YEAR AWAY

11/22/95 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck
(revised 12/02)

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Christmas evening

      THE WARMTH OF CHRISTMAS

 

 

It’s Christmas evening  in our farmhouse,           

With myself, children, dog, and my spouse.

The children are playing with their new toys,      

I know they are happy by all the noise.           

 

While out in the kitchen I toil away                  

At our dinner clean-up, (hugs are my pay).        

I’ll vac the tinsel and cookie crumbs, too,          

Without a complaint,’cause that’s what Moms do.

 

And I’ll do every chore, from the very start,                  

With happy contentment and song in my heart.   

For today we’re together – God’s blessed us all,   

And these are our treasures for later recall.            

 

Good food and warmth, and smiles on each face,   

Make me grateful to God for His infinite Grace.  

And the thing I like best, when all’s said and done, 

Is love, from Heaven, in the gift of His Son.   

 

 

12/17/94               Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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One year, when I was young, we were quarantined.  I just knew that Santa could not come because there was a big sign in front of our house warning him, and everyone else, away.  So, when dad carried me downstairs and I saw what Santa had brought, I could not believe my eyes. This is a true story from my childhood. 

 

I want to thank you all for the joy you have brought me this year; reading and commenting on my poems. 

 

A very Happy Holiday to each and everyone and a Merry Christmas too.

MAMA’S SACRIFICE

So long ago, on Christmas Eve,

In deep Depression years,

I thought that Santa wouldn’t come,

Yet, I choked back my tears,

 

I’d chosen from Sears catalog

A doll with real curls,

And longed for her with all my heart –

A trait of little girls.

 

I dreamed my dreams, as children do,

And hung to hope’s thin thread.

I prayed that doll would soon be mine,

Then snuggled down in bed.

 

Awaking early Christmas day,

I hurried down the stairs,

And there beneath the Christmas tree

Was the doll of my prayers.

 

Dressed in yellow organdy,

Trimmed with ribbons and bows,

Stood a doll with real hair

Adorned with satin rose.

 

This lovely doll of years gone by

Had secrets Mama knew.

I learned them later in my youth,

I swear to you, it’s true.

 

Mama had taken an old doll

With chipped and painted hair,

Then repainted mouth, cheeks, and ears,

And spots where it was bare.

 

The darling buttoned oilcloth shoes

That my doll would wear,

Were cut from our big tablecloth,

Each stitch sewn in with care.

 

She then cut up her best dance gown

To make a ruffled dress,

And what she did about the hair,

I’m sure you’d never guess.

 

Mama cut off her own chignon,

Which really was quite big,

And fashioned long banana curls,

To make my doll a wig.

 

This gift my Mother made for me

Was matchless as to price,

But what was priceless, had I known,

Was Mama’s sacrifice.

                                                               

7/7/88     –   Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

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    CHRISTMAS PAST

 

If I could journey back in time

To Christmas of my past,

I’d gather up the happiness

And hold it very fast.

 

We didn’t have a lot back then,

But we were unaware

That others had more than us,

For we had much to share.

 

Each Christmas was a busy time

With many things to do,

And I look back in fondness,

Remembering just a few:

 

Making stars and paper chains

To compliment our tree,

Checking out our window panes

For frost etched tracery,

 

Hanging bread and suet balls

On branches that were bare,

Watching snowflakes coat the trees

As birds sought shelter there,

 

Running out,, all bundled up,

Enjoying winter’s gifts,

Snow-angels made by each of us,

And sliding down big drifts.

 

We’d all go in, after fun,

And have a special treat –

Hot cocoa near the old wood stove,

While warming hands and feet.

 

Beautiful carols filled the air,

Prompting us to sing.

There were gifts in colored tissue,

Tied with cotton string.

 

Mama’s words as she kissed us

And hugged us very tight,

“You’ve all been such good children,

Santa will come tonight.”

 

Then snuggling down under quilts,

Listening for Santa’s sleigh,

And drifting off in dream-filled sleep

‘Til early Christmas day.

 

Awaking to threadbare stockings,

Stirring children’s joy …

Filled with oranges, candy, and nuts,

And a small ten-cent toy.

 

Under the tree, for Sis and I,

Were dolls that Mama dressed.

Each piece of clothing sewn by hand,

Then each piece neatly pressed.

 

Big brother received a nice game

And strings for his guitar.

Little brother got marbles

And a cast iron car.

 

We could ask for no improvement

Of such heart-warming joy,

For we were more than satisfied

With candy and a toy.

 

If I could paint such memories

To help make them last,

I’d view them with a little smile

Each time that I walked past.

 

 

12/18/89      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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stocking-hung1

    CHRISTMAS PAST

  

If I could journey back in time

To Christmas of my past,

I’d gather up the happiness

And hold it very fast.

 

We didn’t have a lot back then,

But we were unaware

That others had more than us,

For we had much to share.

 

Each Christmas was a busy time

With many things to do,

And I look back in fondness,

Remembering just a few:

 

Making stars and paper chains

To compliment our tree,

Checking out our window panes

For frost etched tracery,

 

Hanging bread and suet balls

On branches that were bare,

Watching snowflakes coat the trees

As birds sought shelter there,

 

Running out,, all bundled up,

Enjoying winter’s gifts,

Snow-angels made by each of us,

And sliding down big drifts.

 

We’d all go in, after fun,

And have a special treat –

Hot cocoa near the old wood stove,

While warming hands and feet.

 

Beautiful carols filled the air,

Prompting us to sing.

There were gifts in colored tissue,

Tied with cotton string.

 

Mama’s words as she kissed us

And hugged us very tight,

“You’ve all been such good children,

Santa will come tonight.”

 

Then snuggling down under quilts,

Listening for Santa’s sleigh,

And drifting off in dream-filled sleep

‘Til early Christmas day.

 

Awaking to threadbare stockings,

Stirring children’s joy …

Filled with oranges, candy, and nuts,

And a small ten-cent toy.

 

Under the tree, for Sis and I,

Were dolls that Mama dressed.

Each piece of clothing sewn by hand,

Then each piece neatly pressed.

 

Big brother received a nice game

And strings for his guitar.

Little brother got marbles

And a cast iron car.

 

We could ask for no improvement

Of such heart-warming joy,

For we were more than satisfied

With candy and a toy.

 

If I could paint such memories

To help make them last,

I’d view them with a little smile

Each time that I walked past.

 

 

12/18/89      Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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