Christmas Poem Competition Entry 2019

It’s the season to be jolly. So how would having an extra $100 in your back-pocket help? Or if you are more altruistic how would donating $100 to your chosen charity sound? Fortunately, if you win the latest Poem Analysis competition you don’t have to choose. We are offering one lucky person a cash prize plus a hundred dollars dedicated to the charity of their choice.

 

How to Enter the Competition

All you have to do to in order to have a chance at winning the prize is submit a poem by commenting below with your name, email address and poem in the comment section at the end of this article.

Be sure to also like our page on Facebook and follow us on Twitter and Instagram! If you’re feeling extra generous, you can also share this page too to share some of the holiday spirit!

The poem must be no more than 36 lines long (That’s enough to write a Sestina, a sonnet, a triolet and countless other forms – although a traditional form is not a requirement).

In addition to the cash prize the chosen poem will also feature on the Poem Analysis website and be analysed by one of our team of experts in poetry. Our website has more traffic than a busy highway on a summers day, so if you’re an aspiring poet it is a fantastic opportunity to share your work with a huge audience.

 

Theme of the Poem

The theme can be on the holiday season, of giving, love, family and everything great about Christmas. But this doesn’t have to be a Christmas poem, it can be about Hanukkah, sleeping rough during the winter or bemoaning the fact that everybody is stoked about time off when you have to work! (sorry retailers)

Of course, you could submit a cheeky three line haiku, there is no lower word limit, but why not wow us with your best efforts?

 

Closing date of Competiton

The closing date is the Friday 20th of December. We look forward to reading your poems and will have our full team vote for the best poem.

 

Happy holidays!

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  • Avatar Maddi Crease says:

    (Psych ward halls)

    At the first snowfall of winter,
    Teens crowd around windows and look out.
    There are tears,
    Especially from the younger ones.
    Especially from those furthest from home.

    Snow here does not mean merriment-
    A festive season spent in love and laughter.
    The cold weather spells long and treacherous drives,
    A drive some families, with broken hearts, cannot undertake.

    This is
    Winter in the hospital.
    This is winter when you can’t be trusted at home, can’t be
    Safe.

    This is Christmas, and as the big day dawns,
    Those who remain in confinement wake with heavy hearts.
    Some don’t want to lift the fork of their Christmas dinner.
    Some didn’t expect to live to this year’s festivities.

    All wish they were waking in their own beds, away from
    This.

    ‘Merry Christmas!’
    Cry the nurses,
    Shrieking voices,
    As they do their morning obs.
    A more brazen child than me tells them
    ‘Shut up’,
    Another swears.

    And me?
    I’m crying this Christmas,
    In these psych ward walls.

  • Avatar Jayali Peiris says:

    So I waited for her to turn and look at me,
    while the little lights flickered right ahead
    on the little green tree, both alike unaware of me
    and my thoughts and their heavy tread.

    For her, it is her fancy gown and the caller at the other end
    maybe even the bright lights, and the grandeur on the tabletop
    But never seems to be this one thing, silently waiting to be mend
    on the Christmas eve, with a Christmas decoration.

    In silence just watching and waiting, even wondering
    if we exchanged places, will I be the same? For now,
    I am waiting with a little bubble in my heart, longing
    For a little Christmas wish to dawn to.

  • Avatar Henri fotso says:

    A boy of 3 steps up to his master piece,
    The vibrance of the sparkled tinsle,
    And the glowing flickering lights
    Dazzle his joy filled eyes,
    While his morphed reflection shines in baubles,
    Which lay supspended from the emerald ruffles.
    As he awaits his Christmas surprise.

    That Christmas and 6 more,
    Had sparks of festive spirit,
    Till a phone and computer consumed him,
    And the green he dreamed of before,
    Was no longer the tree.

    Winter rolled by many years later,
    The boy now a man and a ginger wisp on his chin,
    He had his own 2 boys and girl,
    But not a spark of spirit,
    Did he share from within.

    He awakes one Christmas morning at 48,
    To a glum and miserable silence,
    Alone in a house where there was once 5,
    He is covered in a humbug hide,
    No lights no decoration no tree,
    No jangly jangly bells nor reindeer,
    To signify a merry sleigh ride.

    He opens the dull curtains,
    To see the white blanket all around,
    Wrap around children as they play,
    He looks and scours the piles of snow,
    In search to look at the town statue,
    However a Christmas tree is in his way.

    Grabbing his grey hat, grey coat, grey shoes,
    He heads out to the winter world,
    The snow cracks and crunches under his feet,
    The gate creaks open, he approaches with care,
    Now the two come together, eye to star,
    Though they thought they wouldn’t again meet.

    A man steps up to his master piece,
    The vibrance of the sparkled tinsle,
    And the glowing flickering lights
    Dazzle his joy filled eyes,
    While his morphed reflection shines in baubles,
    Which lay supspended from the emerald ruffles.
    As he recives his Christmas surprise.

  • Avatar Clare and Claire says:

    True Cost of Christmas

    Christmas creates curses and blessings, highlighting haves and have-nots.

    Creative PR pushes Frozen plastic tat into warm little hands.

    What would Greta say?

    New year’s overdraft will occur as bitter milk to swallow. Follow

    #FridaysForFuture, let your kids off school as you add to landfill.

    What would Greta do?

    Politicians; professional rogues prorogue the uncomfortable truths and

    say they’re spending to ‘tackle climate change’ – oh the irony of

    a Magic Money Tree.

    Families torn like discarded wrapping paper; their dystopian

    futures battling against the cold or fleeing from the flames.

    Shame on you decision makers.

    Greta might be the change.

  • Avatar Tom Jackson says:

    Cards in each mailbox,
    angel, manger, star and lamb,
    as the rural carrier,
    driving the snowy roads,
    hears from her bundles
    the plaintive bleating of sheep,
    the shuffle of sandals,
    the clopping of camels.
    At stop after stop,
    she opens the little tin door
    and places deep in the shadows
    the shepherds and wise men,
    the donkeys lank and weary,
    the cow who chews and muses.
    And from her Styrofoam cup,
    white as a star and perched
    on the dashboard, leading her
    ever into the distance,
    there is a hint of hazelnut,
    and then a touch of myrrh.

  • Avatar Jessica Shinn says:

    Jesus, God’s Son
    As you gather around your glowing tree
    May you find yourself on bended knee.
    In awe of a baby who came just to die
    To pay for the sins of you and I.
    An unfathomable present, God’s promise to us.
    The reason for the season we call our Christmas.
    He was born in a manger, no room in the Inn.
    Surrounded by strangers with hearts wide open.
    We call them the wise men, bearing gifts for the king.
    The dark blessed night graced by angels who sing.
    He left the comfort of Heaven, a place of glory.
    To be pierced, and beaten, and nailed to a tree.
    Our Savior he rose just three short days later.
    Death could not hold him, His love was much greater.
    So as you come and sit around your bright tree,
    Remember the light represents our Holy
    Jesus, God’s son, His life was poured out.
    A gift freely given, His love so devout.

  • Avatar Benjamin Ede says:

    (Are You Coming Home)
    Are coming home for christmas?
    We now tire from keeping steps of your shadow,
    Hope some playing children trip on the box of silence
    You hid by road for long now.

    Are coming home for christmas?
    All that’s left to remind of you:
    The ruffles from heaps of dry leaves
    Under the cherry tree drifts like loneliness;
    Where you often sit and gaze the fading twilight,
    While you twist some chords of hope on mama.

    If you are coming home for christmas,
    Please get me some white woolish robe,
    The magic rope,
    A flying box,
    Some soothing salt
    That’s stolen your heart all these years.

    Hope you are coming home for christmas?
    Mama’s eyes now wear from watching the road
    Blisters on her lips, count cuts of mistaken calls of your name.
    Mama told me, men are impatient. Papa couldn’t wait any more.
    She also said you looked just like me-
    The shadow waking in the dawns of my eyes each time she stares inside,
    And fears losing me too to the road, retracing your steps.
    Hope you are coming home for christmas?

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