It never snowed on Christmas, nor any time in twelve months,
so the job fell on Father to create white Christmases year after year.
In the humblest of efforts, we saw him scratch his head and gloat
as he passed ideas by Mother, who nodded and smiled from ear to ear.
The anticipation from the townfolks brought buzz that sped up November
for the sundry store/tailor shop to herald snow and put on a great show.
As on the first day of December did appear a pure white Christmas
in the window of a store in a small town in a small country.
Balls of cotton, elongated, patted flat rugged the floor
wire-hangers bent as stars, candy canes, candles, and snowflakes
Mother's doilies from Good-Housekeeping garnered oohs and praise,
a plastic snowman, glittered snowflakes, the jolliest Santa Clause, tiny toy drums.
Trumpets, airplanes, ribbons & dolls, rocking horses, rifles, angels, books,
Victorian Christmas Cards, fake holly, and painted pine cones meant to delight
rocking robins, white doves, talismans, and little soldier toys.
And in the middle, the tallest Christmas tree, dangling ornaments & lights.
Everyone awwed and oohed, delighted at the wonderland that Father brought.
But in our sleeping quarters and the rest of the house
the brand new curtains and Christmas cleaning,
the present wrapping and decorating,
the advent calendar and Christmas baking,
the greeting cards and celebrating,
the Santa letters and Christmas stockings,
the record player and joyful caroling,
poinsettias on doilies, kugels, and Dresdens,
the nativity with the boy-child,
and the angel atop the table Christmas tree —
these were the things that set our little hearts ablaze with joy.
These things I remember, and I remember them well:
Father brought us white Christmases to revel and to boast,
and Mother brought us Christmases to last forever.
***
© 2021 selmamartin.com
Laura is hosting Poetics at dVerse and has asked us to:
Write a poem recalling some specific thing or things from the past
OR
more generally about what evokes a memory or memories in you
- It can be recent, or as far back as childhood.
- It can be true or fictional
- It can incorporate persons, places or events/happenings
- It is NOT a mournful remembrance as in elegy!
For an extra challenge write it in the ten-syllable or blank verse line (to give the sensation of actual speech, engaging others).
Thanks, Laura, for the lovely prompt. I offer you a true story that is still dear to me.
Photo: Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
I’m a simple woman who dares to see the beauty in ordinary. I’d love to connect with you and like pen pals, I want something beautiful to blossom between us. Will you join me? Selma is my middle name. Its meaning—peaceful, complete, are euphoric affirmations I like to think of myself as having. They compliment the joy I feel when I write. I sincerely hope you decide to join me on my writing journey. I Wish You Miracles.
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the warmth in your poem is overflowing, Selma… it may have caused all the snow to melt away…
<3
David
Ah, David. You say cute things and I love it. Thanks for the visit. 😘
Sweet and sentimental. Never underestimate a parent’s ability to provide a memorable Christmas for their children.
Ain’t that the truth. Parents want to give their children everything they could.
That memory is foremost special. It pops up every time November comes around.
For this prompt I probably made it too long. 🤦🏻♀️ I should have selected a different memory, but in accordance with how November makes me feel, it would have been this one or the one about apples and the fat pig (which I already told you about when prompted about fruit in the summer) haha.
This memory had to have all the Christmas adornments in to make you feel my humble Christmas experience.
Thanks for reading, Ron. Blessings.
This sounds so delightful, Selma: I’m pleased you have such happy childhood Christmas memories to cherish 🥰
Oh, yes. It was delightful indeed to live it like I did. At this time of the year, and even at this age, those memories feel like yesterday. Thanks for reading & commenting.
Ingrid, you should know: I saw someone indicate a 143 word count to the prompt. Mine is way past that count and I’m feeling I overdid it. Is the word count an observance I should have kept? Oh my! Thanks. Be well.
There is no word count for this prompt! The 144 word limit is for Prosery. So you did great 🥰
😅 phew. Thanks. Now I feel better. Blessings.
This is beautiful Selma.. What wonderful memories to cherish of “your white Christmas” ❤🎄
Yes, Bernie. No chance of seeing a real white Christmas in the Caribbean so my parents created those for us. Cherished memories indeed.
Thanks for reading and enjoying. Be well. ♥️
What wonderful memories Selma! Your poem is beautifully written. You parents really made Christmas special for you.
Christmas is special. And yes they did the best they could to make it grand for us. Thanks for reading, D. 💕
So beautiful!! <3
Thanks, Kate. xoxo
Such special Christmas memories – and probably so much warmer than the ones we have here with our piles of real snow. 🙂
Oh yes. A lot warmer— say, tropical weather warmth of the Caribbean.
😆 it never snows there 🤣 that’s why we were entranced by it all. So glad my parents figured a way to bring snow to us, if only fake snow. ♥️
wonderful visuals you created here Selma – the marvel of the Christmas window and then that change of pace, summons all the excitement of a child for memories of mother’s Christmas offerings
Forgive the tardy response, Laura. Sooo glad you liked this one. Your prompt made me go back to that time. Christmas was always memorable for us back there. Thanks. Be well, sweet lady. Blessings.
This is a beauty Selma, what a childhood memory to remember. It’s heart warming 🙂💖
Daphny, my sweets. So glad you read and found it beautiful. Tried to bring forth the right words for the feelings that still exist. Thanks for reading. Blessings.
It is some good old memories and its very precious Selma. You’re very much welcome ❣️
so many great details in this, felt like christmas morning just reading it. well done, enjoyed very much
So pleased to know you enjoyed this one Phillip. Thanks for visiting to let me know how it brought you a Christmas morning. Wow. Can’t ask for more. Thanks. Blessings.
Well…………this brought me as close to tears as I’ll get… as a father of 3 lovely gals I recognise exactly all the feelings your father had, and especially that worry, that fear that his daughter, child is going without. And mothers give so much at Christmas….as another comment said, what a warm, warm poem, coming from the sincerity in the words, and the simplicity, which I yearn for when reading poetry, yet recognise is so hard to get right as a poet. Thanks so much
You’ve no idea how happy your comment made me. That my li’l poem can make you say all that to me— It actually brought tears to my eyes.
Life was simple for me growing up and nothing went unnoticed. The two adults who parented me and my siblings did the best they could with what they had. Those wire hangers were versatile and magical indeed. We had our white Christmases for many years. 🎄 👼 ⛄️
You’re a good Dad. I am sure of it. I bless you and wish you and your family all the best. And miracles. xo.
PS…”wire hangers bent as stars”….lines don’t get much better than that here!
Gorgeous writing, Selma! So much to love here especially; “the record player and joyful caroling, poinsettias on doilies, kugels, and Dresdens, the nativity with the boy-child, and the angel atop the table Christmas tree.” 💝💝
Sanaa, dear. Thanks for reading and commenting. I’m such a sucker for these old memories. I see them in my mind’s eyes as if yesterday. Haha. Thanks so much for engaging me on this one. You’ve no idea what it means to me. xoxo
Selma, wow! You’ve recreated your Christmas from childhood beautifully, the love and warmth embracing us all, the awe and wonder touching our hearts … a wonderful post!
I’m so glad you read, Annika. And pleased to have transfer some of my warm childhood Christmas to you. Your comment warmed my soul. Thanks. Come back anytime, my friend. ♥️ 👏
Thank you very much, Selma, I will make sure to visit much more often. And likewise! 😀🎈❤️
Respect ✊ ♥️ 🎈 👏
We live in a tropical country and that is why, this is exactly what we do for Christmas. There is no snow. Plastic snowman put cotton balls on the dried branches.Create the scene…… you nicely penned sweet memories of your childhood.Wonderful Poem, dear Selma.
Thanks. Glad you could relate.
Hey hope you got your copyrighted stuff all figured out. Be well.
Yes, my daughter did it nicely. Thanks dear ♥️
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A very merry Christmas celebration! Thanks, Selma, for sharing your happy memories…and stirring mine 🙂
Always a pleasure, Dear one. Make me privy to yours one day 😉