While gifts are nice, they don't represent the "true" meaning of Christmas.

Merry Christmas

So many people seem to have forgotten
the true meaning of Christmas spirit
so eager to spend; to receive and to give
they lose sight of what’s important.
While gifts and the sort are rather nice and
It can be fun to get that special someone
the gift that lights their eyes when opened
I feel like there’s more to Christmas than that
~
Every year, they trek to the stores
They beat the crowds to get their wares
Wrap them ever-so-delicately in beautiful
strips of paper; shades of colorful
With their ribbons and their bows
Their tags and their bags
Every year, the same old thing
~
I think people have forgotten the most important part
the part that comes; most naturally; from the heart
They go and spend all of their money
They stress about not having gifts to give
To me, it all seems to be quite funny
And rather; just a little bit; ridiculous
~
While gifts are nice, both to give and to receive
It should be about the time you spend with friends and family
For those are the moments to truly be treasured
Not some gifts of which wealth can be measured
The good times shared; the laughing and catching up
If you’ve missed out on this, I don’t envy your luck
Because, for me, it has always been about this,
Not some random array of gifts
So, with ‘this’ in mind, I wish you all a Merry Christmas!

– Christopher Brown

Christopher Brown was recently published in the July/August 2010 edition of Bread ‘n Molasses and currently lives in Graham, WA USA.

Leave a comment on this post and you’ll be entered to win a signed copy of Miramichi author, Doug Underhill’s latest book entitled Salmon Country. We’ll draw one winner from everyone who comments on any of our special holiday themed posts for our annual Twelve Days of Christmas event!

Santa Will Soon Be Here

There’s a bustle in the toyshop
So much work to be done!
The elves are busy as little bees
Making toys for everyone!

Santa in his work clothes
Whistling Christmas tunes!
Working right beside the elves
Christmas will be here soon!

There’s dolls and planes and lego blocks
Bikes and trains and games,
Millions of toys for girls and boys
That Santa knows by name!

The reindeer are getting excited
It’s almost Christmas Eve!
They’ll bring toys around the world
To children who believe!

Mrs. Claus humming softly
A smile on her dimpled cheeks!
She’s making magic cookie bars
For Santa’s reindeer to eat!

Those cookies are very special
And here’s the reason why!
When the reindeer eat them up
They begin to fly!

Santa’s lists have all been checked
It’s the best time of year!
There’s a Christmas feeling in everyone
Cause Santa will soon be here!

– Annabel Sheila

The Joy Of Christmas

Wrapped in warm Christmas memories of yesteryear
Each one of them like a precious knick-knack,
A little worn, faded a bit around the edges
But always worthy of a special place at Christmastime!
A family of nine testing the strength of our little house
That fairly bulged at the seams with happiness and love!
Fresh boughs in the wreath on the front door
Their invigorating scent a warm welcome
To family and friends that come to share good tidings.
The Christmas tree, our gift from the forest,
Far from asymmetrical but perfect!
Shiny lights and pretty ornaments, some of them old as time!
Mom and Dad busy in the kitchen, friends dropping by…
Familiar Christmas songs in the air; everyone singing along
With their own version of the lyrics!
How vividly I remember those Christmases!
And while those days are long gone
The wonderful memories are mine to keep!
I understand Christmastime can be nostalgic.
Feelings in shades of blue tugging at the heartstrings…
But I also realize to have those feelings is a blessing!
For are they not evidence that one has truly known
The joy of Christmas!

–Annabel Sheila

Annabel Sheila is a frequent contributor to Bread ‘n Molasses magazine. She lives in Moncton, NB.

Leave a comment on this post and you’ll be entered to win a signed copy of Miramichi author, Doug Underhill’s latest book entitled Salmon Country. We’ll draw one winner from everyone who comments on any of our special holiday themed posts for our annual Twelve Days of Christmas event!

Photo by Ian Britton. www.freefoto.com

THE WIND IN THE SKY

In the chill of November,
The beauty of May,
Be it city or forest, she finds her way.
Hear the dawn’s hush in winter,
See the moon in her eyes,
Her map the Aurora, or as the crow flies.
The cold air blows gentle as she brushes the lie
From a wilderness crying, its wisdom denied.
The great oak remembers the strength of her kind
She listens and follows the wind in the sky.

Her hair streaked with silver
Flows thick down her back
Each strand tells a story of glory and lack.
Of laughter and sorrow,
Of love here, then gone
A life richly woven, a full-throated song.
She sings of the babies she’s caught, that survived.
She keens with the night wind for those that have died.
And she prays as she runs as the moon rises high
She listens and follows the wind in the sky.

The shadows they fall away
Fall away dancing,
Her heartbeat says fly away, fly on the owl’s wing.
Be one with the pulse
Of the wandering deer
The birch tree births memory, her vision comes clear.
‘I carry the blood of the old ones’ says she,
To the towering forest,the depths of the sea,
And a lone star streaks homeward as the whippoorwill cries
‘I listen and follow the wind in the sky’

Today you may see her
In the rise of the sun
The halls of the city, a life’s work well done.
Let the dark night embrace you
And you will see her face
In all creatures, all nations, the whole human race.
‘Rejoice sons and daughters like a child in the spring
As the mystery deepens the universe sings
I am here now within you and as night draws nigh
Just listen and follow … the wind in the sky.

– Elizabeth Glenn-Copeland, Miramichi NB

Elizabeth Copeland is a professional performing artist, speaker and arts educator with over thirty years experience working internationally.  Her written work has been published in various publications including So to Speak, Vitality Magazine and The Lorelei Signal. She recently moved to the Miramichi with her husband Glenn and two cats.  She is thrilled to find herself in such a beautiful, hospitable area.

There are two age categories, junior (grades 7-9) and senior (grades 10-12).

First place poems in each category will receive a cash prize of $350, second place winners will receive $300 and third place winners will receive $250.

All winning poems will be published in the League of Canadian Poets’ e-zine, Re:verse at www.youngpoets.ca. All winners will receive Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Contest for Youth certificates and student membership in the League of Canadian Poets for one year.

Deadline: January 15, 2012.

Entry Guidelines

All submissions should be sent by email to readings@poets.ca with the subject Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Contest for Youth.
There are two age categories: Junior, grades 7 – 9 and Senior, grades 10 – 12
Poems must be previously unpublished and must be your own work.
Length of each poem submitted must not exceed 50 lines. Limit 2 poems per poet.
Each submission should include the poet’s name, address, and phone number, age, grade, name of school, and the titles of the poems entered.
Poems should not be sent as attachments, but as plain text files in the body of the message.
There is no entry fee.
Winners will be announced during National Young Poet’s Week in April and posted on the League’s websites www.poets.ca and www.youngpoets.ca. Announcements will be sent to the media, and the winners will be notified by mail and email.

Copyright remains with the poet. Winners will be asked for the first rights to publish their work. Should an entry be published elsewhere during the course of the contest, we ask that the entrant notify the League immediately. Revisions on any poem will not be accepted after it has been entered. All decisions of the jury are final. Contest is open to Canadian citizens and landed immigrants. Members of the League’s National Council, staff or the contest judges or their families are not eligible to enter these competitions.

* Incomplete submissions will not be considered, please read guidelines carefully.

Canada Geese photo by Michael Maloney

Canada Geese
by Donna Rideout

The geese have been absent throughout the summer,
Charged with the occupation of bringing up goslings
Awaiting the arrival of their flight feathers
So that they could be taught to fly in formation
And prepare for travelling south with all of their family
Each fellow traveler honks excitedly, encouraging the rest.
Now the skies fill with their V shaped drill teams,
Practicing daily for their long flight to come.
When they leave, the skies will be lonely once more
Until spring brings them back, to start
The whole process over again.

This post was submitted by Donna Rideout.

To reflect its global perspective, the Montreal Prize has assembled an editorial board of accomplished poets from Australia, Canada, England, Guyana, India, Jamaica, Malawi, Nigeria, Northern Ireland and the US. These poets will select 50 poems for the competition’s shortlist, which will be published in a unique global poetry anthology, representing the very latest work from around the world. From these finalists, Sir Andrew Motion, the 2011 prize judge and former UK poet laureate, will select the winner of the $50,000 prize.

“The launch of such a large prize for poetry obviously marks an important moment for anyone interested in literature,” says Michael Harris, a Montreal poet recently nominated for Canada’s Governor General’s Award for Poetry, and a member of the Montreal Prize Editorial Board.

The $50,000 prize purse is a gift to the Montreal Prize from a donor who wishes to remain anonymous. “We were lucky to find someone generous and forward thinking enough to kick-start this project with a catalyst donation. And we are currently seeking a sponsor or patron for future years,” explains Peter Abramowicz, one of the Montreal Prize’s three founders.

“But even without a major sponsor,” adds Len Epp, another co-founder, “our innovative community funding model will allow us to deliver the world’s biggest poetry competition, thanks to those who support the Montreal Prize by directly participating in it.”

The early entry deadline for the competition is April 22.

For more information on the Montreal International Poetry Prize, visit www.montrealprize.com.

About the Montreal International Poetry Prize
The Montreal International Poetry Prize is a grassroots, not-for-profit organization committed to promoting poetry and poets around the world. It manages the world’s biggest poetry competition, offering a $50,000 prize for a single poem.

Two Poems

Annie’s Christmas Letter

Dear Santa,
It’s Annie here again,
And a Merry Christmas to you!
I’ve already sent my Christmas list,
So that makes this number two.
I’m not asking for any more toys,
That’s not what this letter is for.
I just wanted to remind you please,
Don’t forget the house next door.
Kate’s the girl who lives there,
She’s the very same age as me.
Last year she didn’t get any toys,
Underneath her Christmas tree.
Kate and her mother are very poor,
That’s what my mother said.
This year please put some of my things
Beneath Kate’s tree instead!
I know you’re really busy,
But if you get this letter in time,
Please don’t forget the girl next door,
Cause Kate’s a friend of mine.

Love,
Annie xox

Christmas Traditions

Church always filled to the rafters,
Midnight mass on Christmas Eve Night,
Crammed together, the old and young
Twas a family tradition all right!
Mother dressed in her finest,
Dad in his suit and tie,
All seven of us between them,
Wishing time would go quickly by.
We knew the real meaning of Christmas,
And that it was time to pray,
To celebrate the birth of Christ,
After all it was His birthday!
I remember how much we worried,
That mass would never be done!
We just wanted to go back home
And wait for Santa to come!
When mass was finally over,
We’d headed for home right away,
With Mom and Dad checking rooftops,
For a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh!
By the time we finally got into bed,
We couldn’t keep sleep at bay,
And no matter how late Mom and Dad stayed up,
They were up with us on Christmas Day!
Family traditions at Christmastime
Are different for everyone,
And I wouldn’t change a single thing
About how our Christmas was done!

–Annabel Sheila, Moncton NB

Non Fiction, Judged by Jon Tattrie

1st – “The Pentecostalist Wedding,” Noeline Bridge, Moncton, NB
2nd – “A Deaf Sense of Smell,” Jessie Carson, Almonte, ON
3rd – “Les Pierres de Paris,” Elaine Amyot, Dieppe, NB

“The Pentecostal Wedding is a great, high-energy story that captures the wedding better than any video camera ever could. It starts in a whirlwind of activity and keeps up the manic pace right to the end, giving a feel for an emotionally and physically stormy, wild day. The wedding guests come across as giddy, almost crazed, and you can feel the narrator being pulled back into that world, but resisting.”

Individual Poem, Judged by Shoshanna Wingate

1st – “The Carnage” Nancy King Schofield, Grand Barachois, NB
2nd – “Crow Impressions” Edith Miller, Fredericton, NB
3rd – “Upon Leaving the Branch,” Debbie Okun Hill, Camlachie, ON

“[The Carnage] slips between a storyteller’s distance and a witnesses’ remembrance. It gains its strength from the marriage of the two. And yet “Carnage” also weaves in language reminiscent of our favorite myths, and so the story is given a dreamlike quality, a rhythm that suggests we are allowed, even expected, to hang our realist’s hat on the hook at the door and are welcomed in to sit at the fire and listen to a strange tale about ourselves.”

Short Fiction, Judged by Steven Mayoff

1st – “The Weaver,” Roger Moore, Island View, NB
2nd – “Incomplete,” Chuck Lovatt, Carroll, MB
3rd – “Puzzles,” Paul Healey, Rothesay, NB
HM- “The Pellet Gun,” Paul Healey, Rothesay, NB

“In [The Weaver] the cultural and economic divisions between a tourist and an aboriginal weaver are bridged through the weaver’s craft. The author employs concise and evocative prose that seems in itself to unfold like a tapestry. A skillful balance between poetic imagery and political reality keeps the reader engaged at all times.”

Writing for Children, Judged by Noreen Smiley

1st – “The Afterthoughts at Christmastime,” Paul Rowe, St. John’s, NL
2nd – “Skink on the Brink,” Lisa Dalrymple, Fergus, ON
3rd – “Rosella’s Messy Room,” Judy Stoddart, Winnipeg, MB
HM – “The Promise,” Wendy Kitts, Moncton, NB
HM – “Trixie, Who is Wonderful,” Harriet Zaidman, Winnipeg, MB
HM – “K.C. The Super Sleuth: The Cat that Swallowed the Canary,”
Kelly Trevors Picard, Quispamsis, NB

“[The Afterthoughts at Chistmastime] is steeped in nostalgia, embracing the reader like a warm familiar blanket. A fine attention to detail captures a time and place when life was more innocent and when sledding in the dark was full of magic. The writer deftly offers up one strong image after another, slowly building a picture of this loving and slightly eccentric family and managing to pull off a satisfying and quite perfect ending.”

David Adams Richards Prize, Judged by JoAnne Soper-Cook

Winner – “The Meaning of Children,” Beverly Akerman, Montreal, QC
HM – “The Burning Bush and Other Stories,” Laura M. Robinson, Kingston, ON
HM – “Black Ice,” Noeline Bridge, Moncton, NB

“The author [of The Meaning of Children] shows a keen, incisive vision into the hidden world of children as well as intimate knowledge of the secret spaces that exist between the everyday events of life. There is knowledge here, knowledge of those important, life defining moments of puberty, the birth of a sibling, an encounter with a possibly dangerous stranger. Overall, a work with a brilliant sense of story.”

Alfred G. Bailey Prize, Judged by Mark Callanan

Winner – “The Wailing Machines,” Rob Taylor, Vancouver BC

“The poems here, whether celebrating small moments of tenderness and intimacy, or contemplating the horrors humanity so often visits upon its own, seem to answer the question posed by Mary Oliver in an epigraph that adorns the first section of this book: “how to love this world.” The answer is to find the primal, animal energy that animates our race, and to reflect back to us that energy so that we can more clearly see ourselves, in all our beauty and in all our ugliness.”

Lying back in my old recliner I reflect and meditate
on what I’ve done or haven’t, and, maybe – why?
It’s easy in my solitude as I think about what fate
has brought me to this here and now – and – sigh.

As one takes on the years, the long ago – moves close
’tis said — I can remember yesterday as well.
Does this belie the words that are said by most?
Or, is this a fact?  Is it just too early yet, to tell?

I have passed along advice on what I’ve learned
and heard it echoed to an even younger set
It’s satisfying that the knowledge was not spurned
Knowing that, thinking of my years, I’ll not fret

Ones age, I believe, is just a state of mind
Your old if that’s the way you feel – and cry
about tomorrow. Live today – the rest behind
There’s no need to sit alone and sigh

–Charles E. Frost

There was a time, seems so long ago
When I felt I had been set aside
That no one cared, no man or spirit
I walked alone and alone I cried

That time now is done and gone
I’ve listened and I’ve learned
About life and all its vagaries
And have that for which I yearned

I can’t undo mistakes I’ve made
Nor retrieve hurts I may have caused
But will strive to not e’er repeat them
Keeping in mind all of God’s laws

As I travel the roads of life’s journey
Trying to avoid the pitfalls I find
It occurs to me, I have a duty to share
All that I’ve seen, with all mankind

I charge then, all my brethren
And those with more knowledge than I
To always remember the axiom, old
“There, but for the Grace of God, Go I”

–Charles E. Frost