contemplative craxis

We celebrate starlorn season
and imagine it will always be
the way of traditional reason.

A quiet comfort finds me
hanging handmade ornaments
on lisolia of worn Christmas tree.

Can’t ignore niggling etherness
of family Christmas gathering;
another empty place at meal.

Alpert trumpets carols on CD
which triggers sharp heartspur
as one of Dad’s favorites on key.

Once our parents leave home,
we become orphans in the world;
itchy heartmoor destined to roam.

Sleepy grandchild’s goodbye hug
and door closes in aftergloom of
wrapping paper and crumbs on rug.

Linda Lee Lyberg introduces dVerse poets to The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig…you may need it to figure out the words in this poem.

16 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
    Dec 16, 2021 @ 12:58:34

    It always comes as a surprise when we are the elders when our parents have left. One day your children will say the same…


  2. fireblossom32
    Dec 16, 2021 @ 11:40:17

    You have painted it perfectly here, Lynn.


  3. Linda Lee Lyberg
    Dec 16, 2021 @ 07:18:08

    This is so nostalgic and poignant- love the Herb Alpert reference.


  4. Gillena Cox
    Dec 16, 2021 @ 00:44:52

    An interesting blend of old and new; present and past and the nostalgia that bonds with it



  5. Carol Congalton
    Dec 15, 2021 @ 21:14:52

    You got it spot on! 😀


  6. msjadeli
    Dec 15, 2021 @ 19:41:40

    Lynn, that last stanza really got to me.


  7. dorahak
    Dec 15, 2021 @ 19:35:44

    This is so lovely, Lynn, weaving threads of Christmas past and future in the now.


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