A PEACE THAT PASSETH UNDERSTANDING

A PEACE THAT PASSETH UNDERSTANDING

Here we are, about to go tumbling

Into the arms of another yuletide,

Merrily we come bumbling, giddily we come stumbling

Stoking the fire and hanging the stockings;

When troubles and cares come knocking .

Trimming the tree, uncorking the wine.

We celebrate in uncertain times,

Neo-fascists and. anti-Semites mar the landscape.

The courts block reproductive choice,

Gay is a word we cannot say,

And the season is lost to background noise.

But far, far away from the winds of horror 

That blow across these lonesome plains,

From Israel and Gaza and the heartache in Ukraine,

A thread of spirit bids us come and toast the bleak midwinter,

Let the petty squabbles lie until they crack and splinter

The promise of a light in darkness and an end to mortal pain.

The reason for the season can be anything you deign.

Could be Hanukkah or Christmas, Kwanzaa or solstice,

The end game is warmth and a measure of bliss.

May you have light and love this Christmas and a Hanukkah to remember.

A Kwanzaa to be coveted, a December bathed in splendor.

May you bask in the flood of familial love and check your hatred at the door.

Bathe in the memories of Christmases past and those who have gone before.

Say a prayer for the soldiers fighting in the wars that scorch this earth,

.And the innocents whose only crime is, alas, their place of birth

A prayer for the homeless on this blessed day

The hungry broods searching dumpsters for food

The beggar on the corner in his rags and eccentricities,

Could but for the grace of God in fact be you or me

 

So tick off your many blessings, in the midst of all this busyness.

Take a pause just because, be mindful of your breath.

I wish you well this festive season, infinite hope and infinite joy,

A cherished memory, a precious bauble or a marvelous little toy,

A soft place to fall when you need to make a landing

A candle bright to light your night, snd a peace that passeth understanding.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

TORCH FOR CHRISTMAS

TORCH FOR CHRISTMAS

I carry a torch for Christmas,
The splendor of the Christ child,
The wisemen and the shepherds,
Joseph and the virgin mild.

I carry a torch for Christmas,
For what the day conveys,
A holy day of mystery,
More than ancient history,
The joy that comes unfiltered
In the hymns the organ plays,
A warmth and light that brightens the darkest winter days. 
The sweet sound that resounds in the carols children sing,
I carry a torch for Christmas,
Its angels on the wing.

I carry a torch for Christmas,
The lighted houses on display,
The bustling streets, the rushing feet,
Of shoppers on their way,
The reindeer on the rooftops,
The sacred and profane.
I carry a torch for Christmas,
That my heart cannot contain.
The joy it rushes brimming forth
The antidote to pain,
I carry a torch for Christmas and its light fills every street
And fills the care worn visages of the strangers that I meet.

The parties and the antics,
The friendships and the gifts.
Traditions passed and then renewed,
As the sands of life they slide and shift,
Through each precious passing year.
The cookies and the Christmas feast,
The inner calm and cheer.

I carry a torch for mindfulness of all that God has given.
The mansion he has built for us, the splendor of his heaven.
I carry alone my Christmas torch and sometimes I feel small,
Surrounded by the glorious wonder of it all.
Until the Christmas bells they ring, all over the land,
Through the cities and the countries,
Through the snow and desert sand.
And I say a prayer for soldiers and those too sick to celebrate,
I say a prayer for the dying, for whom Christmas comes too late.

I carry a torch for Christmas, a love for this festive season,
My love it goes not unrequited, my love it has its reasons.
To be alive a miracle, and joy from near to far.
I carry a torch for Christmas, the legend of the star.
The wisemen and the shepherds who followed its deep shine,
To where there lay an infant, so tiny and so fine,
A child who'd calm the raging seas, turn water into wine.

I carry a torch for Christmas and all of humankind,
That just one day we'll all join hands and all be of one mind.
I carry a torch for Christmas, that man may feel his worth,
And know the thrill that courses
Through a day of peace on earth.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

FOR JUST ONE DAY OF JOY

FOR JUST ONE DAY OF JOY

For just one day of joy, they wait the whole year through,
Every little girl and boy and the child in me and you.
For the fat man in the red velvet suit who comes from a land of chill,
For the baby child in the manger who brings us all good will.

For one day of unbridled bliss, I would my kingdom give,
In the midst of this holly and ivy, a brand new way to live.
To kiss you 'neath the mistletoe, beloved man of mine,
To wake and find beneath the tree, a sparkle and a shine.

The bustling time of Christmas, the darkness lit by a vibrant star,
That twinkles in the eastern sky and lands right where we are.
The Christmas tree, the light displays, shine brightly like the moon,
The Grinches and the toy trains, the carolers with their tune.

The whole twelve days of yuletide charm, the partridge and the pears,
Can lift our spirits out of darkness, catch us unawares.
Five gold rings of these we sing, the ladies dancing, lords a leaping,
And in the manger sweet and sound, the Baby Jesus sleeping.
Let's not forget the menorrah and the charms of Hannukah,
The beauty of the Chrismon tree in the Christian sanctuary.
Those who love the charms of Kwanzaa, every bit as merry.

Heaven, it looks down and smiles, on every faith and every creed,
And stands forever steadfast, by us in our time of need.
For just one day of happiness, for just one day of love,
A blessed child, a virgin birth, or just a day of peace on earth,
A day where man he feels his worth and counts his lucky stars.
And smashes through the winter blues and their joyless prison bars.

Where memories live of Christmas gone, that in the human soul do stir,
The great and grand old story of the way that once we were,
When Santa Claus he smartly flew, with Rudolph and the earnest crew,
And NORAD tracked his every move across the heavens blue.
When the gay wrappings adorned the gifts that lay beneath the tree,
And no child was forgotten by the fat man from the great North Pole,
And every wish was granted, and what was broken was made whole.

Where the fire truck in my old hometown would scream throughout the neighborhood,
Kris Kringle waving from the back, magical and good.
The wreaths that hang upon the doors, the sweet aroma of the day,
The turkey and the dressing and the bounty sent our way.
A night that children seldom sleep and grown up children seldom weep.
Far too busy making plans with toys that coo and beep.
The toy trains and the rocket ships that on Christmas day do race,
The treats laid out for Santa, that leave without a trace.

For just one day of joy, they wait the whole year through,
Every little boy and girl and the child in me and you.
For Santa, for the Christ child, for a potpourri of reasons,
We pour the wine and celebrate the beauty of the season.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

COLD AND BLEAK DECEMBER

COLD AND BLEAK DECEMBER

It's a cold and bleak December, or is it only me?
My eyes jaundiced and blurry make it difficult to see.
Here in the month of tinsel and tease,
I live alone with this bitter disease.

Here in this month of the Christmas birth,
Where carols sing of joy and mirth,
All I can sing is my bitter song.
You can sing along if you know the words,
The words of death and wasted breath,
From the baffled beaks of angry birds.

It's a cold and bleak December,
The month we laid my parents to rest.
The days that both my mother and father,
Succumbed to their brutal snows.
The month that puts me to the test,
When caught up in its throes.

The flowers in the sanctuary,
They somehow lift my mood.
If only for a moment, the landscape seems less bare.
The problem is my attitude and not perhaps the frigid air.
The poinsettias, they brighten,
In white and scarlet hues,
This cold and bleak December,
And these Godforsaken blues.

Oh, for the time when I could move freely,
And school was out for the holiday,
And the fat man in his red suit,
Held me in his ho-ho sway.
Those simpler times of childhood,
They seem so far away.

Oh, for the time when I was footloose,
The days I wandered where I chose.
Dressed to the nines from shirt to shoes,
Days as fragrant as the vagrant rose.
Oh, for the time when my triumphs were many
And my trials so very few,
Before the brain cells once so plenty,
Deserted me for pastures new.

Now that I'm an older man, and see through older eyes.
I miss I guess my glory days, and the present fills with sighs.
Sighs for my health and for an average wealth,
Before the insurance premiums sucked my wallet dry.
Before the alien winter ice fell like a demon from the sky.
Back when I could work a job, back when I had a calling,
Back before the meds and surgery, before the random falling.
All I take from winter now is an inconsolable chill,
And the tidings of a tiny child, poinsettias in the windowsill.

Mary and Joseph and that glorious birth,
That back then thrilled the hearts of men.
That brought the wisemen and the shepherds,
Bearing gifts across the glen.
That filled their hearts with Christmas joy,
The man that grew from that precious boy.
Let me be one of the growing throng,
That lift their voice in glorious song.
Not to wallow in guilt and pain,
But find some shelter from the rain.

Lord, you know my anxious heart, you know what I believe.
It's just the more time passes, the more I find to grieve.
Send me down some sweet relief, pardon now my unbelief.
Forgive my sad and rank complaint,
A better landscape help me paint.
This cold and bleak December, let it quietly, quickly fade,
Erase my tearful memories, bring roses from the nightshade.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED