Writer's Island #15 - This Season

The Writer's Island prompt for this week is "This Season". We are being asked to share something about what this season means to us. I thought about this for a while, because I really use these prompts for creative writing, never for "personal" posts, so I wasn't really sure how to approach this particular prompt. So, I just started writing. The following poem takes on a bit of a bittersweet turn at one point, but that was beyond my control. I love Christmas, it is my favorite time of year, and has been as far back as I can remember. But after my grandmother passed away (almost 7 years ago), it's never been the same. I still love this season, and still look forward to it with anticipation and joy, but the missing element is always there. I think most of us long for our childhood Christmases, and perhaps because I'm still in that inbetween stage, no longer a child, no kids of my own yet, I wallow a bit in nostalgia around this time. I realize poetry needs no explanation, and I normally don't provide any, but this piece screams for a bit of background. From the time I was 10 (when we moved to the U.S.) until my grandmother died, Christmas was spent at her house. When she died, my granfather sold the house, and moved in with my parents, where we now celebrate Christmas every year. As fate would have it, when I bought my condo I did not realize it, but to travel from my house to my parents' house, I drive by my grandparents' old home. I do this weekly, and never does it affect me as much as at Christmas time, when I look for, and don't see, the Christmas star my grandfather built, and would hang over the door every year. I dedicate the following to my grandmother, Odilia, may she rest in peace.

The Christmas Star

Above the door
The star of Bethlehem
Lit up for all to see
Inside the house
there always was
the fattest Christmas tree
A feast for dinner
excited talk
and spirits always high
And then we'd dance
and sing the carols
and watch the hours fly by
then he would come
good old Santa
and sit among our presents
and one by one
we'd open them
enjoy each other's presence
into the wee hours
of the morning
we'd celebrate the night
and looking back
I recall the warmth, the love
everything feels so right

Things changed
And grandma's home
now houses someone new
And I drive by
Don't see the star
And quietly wonder who
I want to eavesdrop
on Christmas Eve
learn how they celebrate
I want to share with them
my memories
of Christmases so great
Instead I smile
and keep on driving
because this season's about to start
We have new traditions
and in lieu of missing you,
I'll let the memories warm my heart.

Copyright 2007 - Karina

Merry Christmas everyone, may your memories fill you with joy, and your new traditions give you lots to look forward to.

Pensieve's Poetic License #2 - Cinquain

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This month's poetic form is a "cinquain" (and again, if you want to know what that means, click the button above). Of course, if I had read the instructions carefully (or perhaps at all), I would have remembered that there is also a theme, and this month's theme is "celebration".

Before I read the "theme", I wrote this:

Snowstorm
Cold, white
Blowing, blinding, accumulating
Quiet settles upon the world
Nor’Easter


Not really fitting in with the theme of celebration, is it? So...I guess that means I have to write another one:

Countdown
Loud, festive
reminiscing, anticipating, beginning
prelude to a new beginning
Finale

I'm pretty sure I broke the rules on both of these, but...eh...close enough! ;-)

Writer's Island #'s 13 and 14

UPDATED (check bottom of post).

I missed Writer's Island last week. I have no excuses, I just blanked on it completely. It's the first one I've missed since the "Founding" of the Island, and I just couldn't let it go. It's the OCD in me, I had to at least recognize it...so I'm incorporating both prompts into my entry today.

Last week's prompt was "The Promise", and this week's is "The Moment".

Broken

Too late now,
one decision
and it falls apart
we all have moments
choices
life defining events
you chose her
over me
the words you speak now
have no impact
apologies
explanations
pleading
it's too late

Did you think
telling me it didn't mean a thing
would make it any better?

You took a vow
promised me forever
and in an instant
you broke us

And you have the nerve to tell me
it didn't mean a thing?

It meant everything.

Copyright 2007 - Karina

Update: In response to one of the comments this poem received, I was inspired to write up a post about my feelings on "unfaithfulness". If you're interested, please head over to my "other" blog: Candid Karina, and join in the discussion.