From the depths of old...

[C Bets]

Really horrible, but couldn't resist posting:

That Time of Year

I wake to the radio
It plays the holiday tunes
I pull the covers to my chin
And smile
The season does begin

Dear husband not yet
In the mood
A pillow over his head
He grumbles
As he lies there in bed

The white stoneware mugs
Are all put away
Replaced with holly china
So festive
Nothing could be fina’

It’s still dark outside
But decorative lamp posts sparkle
Casting a shimmery glow
So perfect
To light the street below

I make my way to work
Trying to focus on business alone
Interrupted by one thought
*It's Christmas*
And all the gifts unbought

Gala parties and shopping sprees
Family and friends together
The calendar is very full
“Oy vey”
It's such a bunch of bull

When all over, I collapse
Glaring at the mess before me
It’s the twenty-sixth of December
“Good Lord!”
I say; Yes, next year that I must remember.

[Kitty Foyle]

I like this part: It's such a bunch of bull.

*_*

[Kitty Foyle]

...except that it seemed out of place -- the "Oy vey" too. 'Twas a bit of a jolt when I first saw it.

When I said I "liked" it, I meant I agreed with it.

*_*

[C Bets]

I remember throwing in the "oy vey" comment as a little tongue-in-cheek bit; you know, being a Christmas piece and all.

[John Oberon]

Well, it rhymes a little. Nothing much in the way of a message to drive it though. It jumps all over time and space, without much reason that I can see.

I wouldn't call this a Christmas piece; it has nothing about Christmas in it aside from it being that time of year. It's more about you, Bets. It is a piece about cynicism and shallowness and perhaps stress, but not Christmas. I'm sorry you feel this way about Christmas. It's always been a wonderful, happy, and meaningful holiday to me. I've never thought visiting my family and friends was a bunch of bull. My hope is that since this poem is from the depths of old, maybe you no longer feel this way.

I think this poem could be much better if it contrasted the true meaning of Christmas with this cynicism. Or, if it's aiming at humor, it needs to be a lot more funny. Right now, not much to enjoy in it.

[C Bets]

Well, thanks for reading, John. I didn't ask for a critique, however. For obvious reasons.

And, for the record, I don't completely "feel this way" about Christmas. It was an old, badly written piece I thought would be fun to post. I didn't reach into the depths of my soul and write something meaningful or intensely personal or anything while trying to figure out the true meaning of Christmas one day. For all you know, I was tapping into a number of sources I've been exposed to over the course of time. Please . . . lighten up, huh?

[Kitty Foyle]

Wait till he gets going about other topics, Cindy.

*_*

[Kitty Foyle]

John-O is a knower of poetry.
Or so he would like us to think.

I dare him to post one of his own.
Is he afraid we might say it doth stink?

*_*

[John Oberon]

Bets,

Fine. If that were the case, then I think all those sources you tapped into were cynical, dishonest, and false in the sentiments they expressed. I think the sentiments they expressed were a bunch of bull. I hardly thought you reached into the depths of your soul to write something meaningful or intensely personal. I thought I made that pretty clear. Do you think I used the word "shallowness" for no reason?

Lighten up...I guess that's as light as I get for a poem that says "Christmas sucks" and nothing else, no clever language or humor, to mitigate the message. But then, maybe that message is as light you get.

Kitty,

Heck, I'm not afraid of that. I KNOW you'll all say it stinks and worse no matter whether it's good or not, lol. I don't have anything on this computer to post, but I remember a small verse I wrote that won a prize in college:

In this world full of rage and hunger,
With everyone older wishing they were younger...
When the end comes into view,
And we finally begin to see,
Were you really you?
Was I really me?

I forget what the premise was...something about people having past regrets in life and expressing that sentiment in eight lines or less. It was definitely eight lines or less, but I can't remember the premise exactly. I won first - $75. It was pizza for me and all my friends, lol.

If you're interested, I'll find some of my poetry that I would feel comfortable posting, even though it will open the floodgates for insult and ridicule.

[C Bets]

Time to add to my ignore list. Won't waste my time on an additional response. Touchy much?