seasonal writings

[beaulolais]

let's post poems and short stories for whatever season we happen to find ourselves in, shall we?

G.K. Chesterton wrote two of my favorite Christmas poems; here is one of them:

The House of Christmas
G.K. Chesterton

By: G. K. Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.

This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.  

[Sita Harker]

Joyous Hanukkah!
Eva Grant

At last! At last! Hanukkah is here!
The whole house is bursting with holiday cheer.

Pancakes are sizzling as hard as they can,
Browning delectably crisp in the pan.

The dreidels can scarcely wait to be spun;
Presents are hidden for Hanukkah fun;

And there, on the table, polished and bright,
The shining menorah gleams through the night,

Like the oil lamp in ancient history,
That burned on and on miraculously!

And each flaming candle proclaims the great story
Of the Maccabean heroes, their deeds and their glory.  

[beaulolais]

very nice!

all full of sensuality, sounds and smells and sights.  

[beaulolais]

A Child of the Snows

There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim,
And never before or again,
When the nights are strong with a darkness long,
And the dark is alive with rain.

Never we know but in sleet and in snow,
The place where the great fires are,
That the midst of the earth is a raging mirth
And the heart of the earth a star.

And at night we win to the ancient inn
Where the child in the frost is furled,
We follow the feet where all souls meet
At the inn at the end of the world.

The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red,
For the flame of the sun is flown,
The gods lie cold where the leaves lie gold,
And a Child comes forth alone.

GK Chesterton