Beneath the Tree

~ moondustwriter

December

a month of hopefuls

 romance fragrant like a rose

dreams from the sky blow

lacy snowflakes danced

gracing eyelashes

kissed away

in a magical embrace

beneath the living Christmas Tree

*

The new year passes

“will you” and “I will”

sung in a wonderland of snow

gifts elegantly circled with red satin bows

 8 knives for carving

1 rope for climbing

bridal silk embellished with white seed pearls

promises of forever

beneath the flocked Christmas Tree

*

Time passes

trying to pull out good memories

“they must be there”

rummaging through the box of Christmas ribbon

I caress an eight inch lamp-post

to it we raised a toast

  once there glowed

 declaration of love

 beneath our barren Christmas tree

*

The seasons and the gifts got stranger

oddly shaped sweater

a perfect fit

for your octopus arms

wrapped around others

untying their bows

repackaged promises

the lamp shone green

beneath the scrawny Christmas tree

*

Each year’s end,  always hoping

 for the gold-edged red ribbon

magic sparked from its edges

hiding in fresh pine needles

 tied around a ring

that hung shiny and bright

for me

beneath the tinsel Christmas Tree

*

I looked for years

 the ribbon it seemed

confirmer of dreams

the magic it held

would imbibe our love

restart the music

light the lamp

beneath the leaning Christmas Tree

*

Eons has my search

 been in vain

the tree was old

 no glitter nor gold

my hands reached for the ribbon

teasing, it hung in brown branches

I grasped it

the lamp-post guided the way

beneath the dead Christmas Tree

*

Triumphant moment

willing the magic to work

pricking my finger on a needle

drawing rusty

rather than satiny red colored blood

drops fell

I saw knives, a rope

beneath the artificial Christmas Tree

*

The gold-edged ribbon

tightly unforgiven

about the neck of an eight inch doll

dressed in white silk

embellished with red seed pearls

that fell

an eery light flickered

beneath the strung up Christmas tree

*

The years of “wasted away”

I looked up eyes agape

death’s eyes dilate

no longer could they focus

 all there had ever been

strangulated

the light shone

on a lifeless form

beneath the fresh-cut Christmas Tree

*

This year a celebration

four boxes with satiny bows

covering brown stain

romantic starry-eyed blur

 arms encircled her

she picked up eight seed pearls

“red, oh how festive”

“Yes,” sinister was the light in his eyes

beneath the re-gifted Christmas Tree

~ Leslie Moon

© Copyright 2013 Leslie Moon. All Rights Reserved.

Published by moondustwriter

Thank you for visiting Moondustwriter. One of the many exciting things I've had the honor of doing is writing and publishing in multiple genres (including education) in E. African for E. Africa. As a writer, it is a thrill to write for children (on all continents) who want to learn. I've been part of the blogging community for more than 15 years. Some old timers may remember the award winning (2011 Twitter Shorty ) blog community - One Stop Poetry. I was the co-producer of that fast growing blog community. I am a published writer, poet, artist and photographer. I have written, as well as edited, for periodicals, radio, blogs and fellow writers. I presently research and edit for academia (what was I thinking?) There are many facets to this moon - my joy is in meeting you!

33 thoughts on “Beneath the Tree”

  1. Freaking brilliant, Leslie! I love the way you used the Christmas trees decay, falsity, and resurrection to indicate the emotional and physical stature of the narrator. Beautifully played!

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  3. Nothing like ripping presents…and hearts…apart for the Christmas season, Leslie!! 🙂 I very much enjoyed BENEATH THE TREE; again, much like unwrapping a gift, the relationship within your prose slowly unravels, the once merry light dimming and dimming until darkness prevails. Now that is Yuletide cheer! 😉

    Loved it, Leslie 🙂

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  4. Wow! You sure eased into the part of the poem I loved the most. Step by step, the intensity grew, until it was there. Horror befitting the best of what The Damned is all about. Joe viewed this as prose, whereas I tend to look at it as poetry at it’s finest. Everything you write comes across to me as poetry.

    The past becoming the present. My, my. simply lovely, Leslie.

    Blaze

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  5. Leslie, what wonderful metaphors you’ve used to describe a deteriorating relationship in this poem. The fading ribbons, dulling lights, pricking of a finger and a tree that has lost its shine are lovely ways of describing the pain associated with it. A beautiful poem, Leslie, very lovely in its progression. 🙂

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  12. Leslie, your prose and poetry invoked a lovely scene as you skillfully took the reader on a journey from warmth to ruin and into a fresh start. Marvelous work!

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  13. Pingback: What’s Beneath Your Christmas Tree #poetry #dark | Moondustwriter's Blog

  16. Sorry for taking so long to post a comment Leslie.

    Your ability to create such a complex and meaningful arrangement with so little space is amazing. I loved the holiday stroll you took me on with this – the tinsel and ribbon to dead and rusty colored blood.

    Fantastically sinister!

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