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Showing posts with the label christmas

Mercy, the Stranger #poetry #poetrydaily

Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
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When Christmas Took Love Away #lovepoetry #poem #heartbreak

We broke apart while carols filled the air, Lights blinking where your smile used to be, Love once bloomed like a candle in darkness, Now, wax and ash mark where it lay. Silence used to pull us closer, A quiet magnet between our eyes, No words needed—just breathing together, Two souls meeting without disguise. Our feelings were once tangled forever, Promises whispered without fear, We believed time would kneel before us, That love was safest this time of year. But Christmas has a cruel way of shining, It brightens what’s already gone, Every song becomes a reminder Of a future we won’t carry on. The tree still stands, the gifts still wait, But your name won’t be called tonight, The candle flickers, fighting the cold, Alone against December’s light. It’s not just a breakup—it’s timing, It’s loss wrapped in tinsel and cheer, Heartbreak hurts louder in December, When love leaves On Christmas, Yours becomes_ The loneliest day of the year. © 2025 Gloria Penelope
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Smiles that return every "December"

We gather again beneath December lights, Same chairs, same room, same practiced cheer, Laughter rehearsed like an old carol That everyone knows, but no one feels. Hugs are exchanged like obligations, Warm on the outside, cold within, Eyes smile first, then mouths follow, While hearts stay carefully hidden. The table is full, yet something starves— Truth waits outside with the night air, Jealousy sits quietly between plates, Hatred dressed up as polite care. Compliments sharpened with quiet comparison, Success weighed, failure displayed, Every story told to outshine another, Every silence is carefully staged. We call it family, we call it tradition, Year after year, we return the same, Dragging old wounds through tinsel and candles, Renaming resentment as holiday flame. By midnight, masks grow heavy on faces, The smiles crack but never fall, We promise love, we promise visits, Then leave with nothing settled at all. And so it repeats—another December, Another gathering, another di...
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We had nothing "on Christmas"

The lights shine bright on other doors, Laughter spills into the street, But in our house, Christmas knocks softly, As if unsure, it’s welcome here. No bags of goodies on the table, No wrapped dreams beneath the tree, Just quiet plates and careful portions, And the weight of what can’t be. It feels like Christmas wasn’t meant for us, Like a song we’re not allowed to sing, So we stay indoors, curtains half-drawn, Watching joy pass by like a passing train. Poverty shows no mercy this time of year, It sharpens the ache, it names the lack, Every smiling advert feels like a question We don’t know how to respond. Each year, December makes us feel heavy, Like a burden we never chose to be, Counting days instead of blessings, Hoping January will set us free. Yet still, in the quiet of our small room, Family sits, close and warm, No gifts to open, but hands still hold, A fragile love, weathered by storm. Maybe Christmas isn’t only wrapped in paper, Maybe it breathes whe...
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