Eneh Akpan Writes: holiday

Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts

Friday, June 18, 2021

Juneteenth '21

Juneteenth commemorates emancipation of African-American slaves on June 19, 1865
Today, President Biden signed a bill declaring it a US National Holiday.

There's a brand new holiday

A prophetic hallelujah day,

Cause ain't nobody dig freedom

Like a man who's been a slave

Ain't nobody crave a destination

Like the man on the inside of a cage,

So as we descend the mountaintop

On the Canaan side

The Promised Land awaits us,

With the tears in our eyes

And with open arms we receive

The Glory of the coming

Of the Lord,

Cause we've been free

And we've been crushed,

But nothing can compare

To this beauty revealed in us.

The mountains are laid bare

And the dreams of our fathers,

The hopes of our mothers

Fill up the valleys of despair

Now on June 19th of every year

We mark a holiday for freedom.

Juneteenth is the new word

A worthy trade for emancipation

Of the people of color

And everybody who loves freedom.

Akpan

Friday, December 27, 2013

Guest Blog: Christmas Gifting by Christine Cassello

Courtesy: Wikipedia

At last, a piece of poetry with a focus on the Christ of Christmas.

Christine Cassello’s poem reminds us why we celebrate. We need to celebrate the Christ-He is God's greatest gift to the world.

Shepherds wondered the reason why

Angelic beings lit up the sky.

One told them of a newborn boy,

Who would bring all people joy.

They received specific detail,

So they would know the little male.

The stars had never shown as bright,

As they did that Christmas night.

One star shown with great precision.

Magi understood that vision.

Across the desert, these men came,

Bringing gifts to show their acclaim.

We give gifts to one another,

Friend and neighbor, sister, brother.

What you do for the least of these,

You do for me,. Jesus sees.

So give your gifts in Jesus' name.

Not for glory, nor for fame.

Author's Bio

I turned 67 years old on February 14. I've been single and childless all of my life but have "mothered" many pets. Having grown up as a Christian, I did not have a difficult life and lived with my parents until they died. Now, I am working on my childhood passion and hope to make a reputation for myself as a children's book author.

I have an Ebook out, THE HUNTER AND THE DEER, original fairy tale and story poems for children and adults. My first publication was a short story in Knowonder Magazine in 2000 and a fairy tale poem in Bumples (online only).

Friday, December 20, 2013

Guest Blog: Do You Hear What I Hear? by Jada Solaita

Courtesy: keanxchange.com

My guest blogger today is Jada Solaita, an upcoming poet. Jada has drafted a really touching poem about a young girl who feverishly awaits the visit of Santa Claus in the still of the night.

All was quite in the little house,

You couldn't even hear the sound of a mouse

Christmas was coming,

It would soon be here

and so would Santa with eight flying reindeer

I woke with a jolt,

"Did you hear that?"

I said, as I rubbed the fur of my small cat

I wanted to know what was the matter?

What could be causing all that clatter?

I rose from bed, with the speed of light

I couldn't let Santa get out of sight

I ran down the stairs as quick as can be

But all that was there were just presents

He had left under our tree

How could I miss him,

How could it be?

How fast can an old man

With eight reindeer flee?

I looked around sadly seeing just crumbs on a plate

I must have come down a little too late

But, soon my heart filled with a blossom of glee

As I saw a small note addressed directly to me

It was just lying there next to the tree

It said, "Thank you for the cookies and milk,

Now go look in your stocking made of silk"

I looked inside and what did I see?

A tiny baby doll just for me.

A faint little jingle I heard from afar

Merry Christmas, Santa where ever you are

Author’s Bio

As an aspiring writer and poet I get my inspiration to write through life lessons. Things that have happen to me in my past or things I hope for in the future.

Thank you for allowing me to share my love of writing with others.

— Jada Solaita

~GreenEyedGirl~

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Guest Blog: A Soldier's Christmas by Ken

This is poetry by a guy I met on Writing.Com; a Vietnam War veteran. He goes by the pen name HuntersMoon.

Enjoy!

A foot-tall artificial tree -

a decorated memory

of time spent with a family -

stands by his dusty bed.

A Christmas card sits underneath

with a bright yellow ribboned wreath.

A printed sign stands in relief –

“Daddy, come home soon.”

The gifts from home he’ll get this year

won’t fill his mind with Christmas cheer

though, for a moment, they’ll feel near.

He holds them in his heart.

He remembers carols that they sing

but knows the gift he’s offering

finds meaning in “Let freedom ring.”

He proudly stands his post.

It’s times like this that make him sad.

He should be home; husband and Dad

are parts of life that make him glad.

Such is his sacrifice.

For just a moment, his eyes tear

but in his mind, his vision’s clear

to keep his loved ones free from fear.

He straightens up with pride.

He whispers a familiar prayer

asking for God’s love and care

as he grips tight the cross he wears.

He heads out on patrol.

Afghanistan, the DMZ,

dozens of places we don’t see,

freedom’s gift is given free;

each soldier pays the price.

At home, another holiday

explaining why Dad is away.

“He’ll be home soon,” Mothers say.

Someday, perhaps, for good.

God bless those who serve

and the families that wait for their return.

Author’s Bio

I actually wrote this about me - thinking back to my first Christmas in Vietnam. It was an unhappy time but I believed in what I was doing (Little did I actually know *Laugh*)

You may feel free to use it in your blog ... Thank you for honoring me and the many who serve.

—Ken

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Ghetto Santa

This was trending on Twitter and I thought I could recreate a Ghetto Santa's thoughts in a poem. And what if the ghetto in question is Nigerian?
Much of the stuff you find in this line of poetry are highly overrated but I've tried to be true to the Nigerian setting as much as I possibly can.

Photo: mediamilitia.com

Yo kid! You got your money? 'Cause this Santa ain't freebie.
  Holla at your momma make sure she got the right ticket.
  I like your style, your class but maybe I'll whack the bee's knees.
Lose the cunt face, eh. Got no love for Santa Clause, midget?
Say, it's Christmas that's why we're here to make some cool money.
You came to laugh, dance and clap your hands. I came to get paid.
Now that we understand each other, don't fight the feeling.
Hello, how d'you do? I'm Santa Claus. Let's start over again.
Let's get issues cleared from the start; I ain't here to please you.
I'm here to do what I do, you're here to love what I do.
Come, sit here on my laps tell me what you wish and you'll see
That Santa can be nice like paradise if you ain't naughty.
Don't mess up the costume, wipe your tears. We can talk things out.
You don't gotta get all mushy. What are you all about?
I like you kid but you gotta go. The next kid looks rich
So, hurry chop! chop! Get the hell out o' here, little Grinch.



Akpan

Monday, December 24, 2012

Childhood Christmas Wishlist

What if a grown up decides to ask Santa to fulfill all his childhood wishes?What if Santa were to grant these wishes in a literal sense as the kid this man was once conceived it and not in the light of the man the kid became?

What do you suppose, would be the consequence of such an extraordinary treat?

Photo: masterfile.com

I asked for it but this isn't exactly what I had in mind,

Can you take it all back Santa, could you please, oblige?

Mama's been dead a decade, Papa my entire life.

I once asked that they live forever. Is that my crime?

Ignore my childish wishes can you straddle that line?

I can't stand ghosts, I detest spooks. Same goes for my wife.

I wished Dad be here every Christmas but I switched sides.

I'm immune to spirits but I will rather decline!

Wait, was that MJ I saw walk into my bedroom?

Man, did you have to bring him back too, what's up with you?

I thought you was wise Santa. Couldn't you take a cue?

There's my favorite childhood jacket, you brought it back, fool.

I'm too big to wear it and how come it smells like goop?

You shrunk my big Bro to a 12 year old man, that's cool.

I'm gonna kick him around a bit until he's blue.

But you didn't have to bring back nanny. She's so cruel.

Santa, is that the dish I smashed on Christmas? Come on

I thought we went over this. Mama got a new one.

Check this out: My childhood toy collection. Man, you rock!

And my complete Power Rangers set. Thanks, Santa Claus.

You shouldn't have brought my dead cat. Makes me nervous.

It's snowing under my bed, a wish you could ignore.

My house's hooked to Santa's sleigh, I believe I can soar.

I see the Chapel's rooftop it's top o' the world, mom!

Akpan

The Last Noel

A burglar stages a heist on the night Santa visits a home. Shots are fired but the burglar already cut the power before going in and nobody can tell for sure who's who. Problem is both Santa and burglar have a big sack and both are dressed in Santa suits. One of them is down, the other is nowhere around. Did the real Santa scramble away in fright or was it the burglar who escaped with his loot?

Here's a poem which speaks along the same line but mind the twists, it may or may not give a satisfying answer to the question but it should thrill you-there's an element of surprise.

Photo: aarp.org

'Twas the eve of Christmas when two men with intentions

Came sliding down our chimney for an awesome opossum.

They came at intervals both present for the action.

Dad was out on unspecified assignment, said mom.

We was asleep when things went down but we heard a buzz.

I guess one Santa hit on the other and they fought.

Whatever it was that started the bustle, it caught.

The two Santas royal rumbled beside the large hearth.

'Twas on the night before Christmas all hell broke the peace

And the Grinch came and stole the spirit of the season.

One of the Santas cut the power and locked us in,

Which of the Santas was the burglar, which was the real?

They both wore their Santa suits, they both laughed Ho! Ho!

When mom demanded they pull their beards they went No! No!

Now Junior he's been basing but do not tell him so.

He fetched his Luger and drilled in one Santa two potholes.

'Twas on the morn' of Christmas by the light of the moon,

We checked the Santa Junior picked off and mother swooned.

Second Santa was long gone guess he was the real goon.

But how come mama zonked out, did she love Santa too?

I know we killed the real Santa but it wasn't noon?

He wore beards, hard to identify without preview.

When mom started kissing Santa, we thought she was loon.

Junior pulled the beards, Santa became Dad. We were doomed!

Akpan

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Bad Santa's Sack

The last two poems have been a little more comedic in nature than horrifying. I do remember stating I was all about horror-themed Christmas poems this month. I'm coming through on that promise with this one.

What if somebody (might be a kid or adult, you fill in the gap in your own private time) stumbled upon Santa's sack but there's no Santa in sight and naturally (at least, it appears so to him) this guy decides to keep this sack and explore the content, later. Unbeknownst to him, it's the Bad Santa's sack and he ain't really Santa but Pandora in disguise.