New Year Poems And Quotes
A Christmas Carol
Welcome, sweet Christmas, blest be the morn
That Christ, our Saviour, was born!
Earth’s Redeemer, to save us from all danger,
And, as the Holy Record tells, born in a manger.
Then ring, ring, Christmas bells,
Till your sweet music o’er, the kingdom swells,
To warn the people to respect the morn
That Christ, their Saviour was born.
The snow was on the ground when Christ was born,
And the Virgin Mary His mother felt very forlorn
As she lay in a horse’s stall at a roadside inn,
Till Christ, our Saviour was born to free us from sin.
Oh! think of the Virgin Mary as she lay
In a lowly stable on a bed of hay,
And angels watching O’er her till Christ was born,
Therefore all the people should respect Christmas morn.
The way to respect Christmas time
Is not by drinking whisky or wine,
But to sing praises to God on Christmas morn,
The time that Jesus Christ His Son was born;
He sent into the world to save sinners from hell
And by believing in Him in heaven, we’ll dwell;
Then blessed be the morn that Christ was born,
Who can save us from hell, death, and scorn?
Then he warned, and respect the Saviour dear,
And treat with less respect the New Year,
And always respect the blessed morn
That Christ, our Saviour was born.
For each new morn to the Christian is dear,
As well as the morn of the New Year,
And he thanks God for the light of each new morn.
Especially the morn that Christ was born.
Therefore, good people be warned in time,
And on Christmas morn don’t get drunk with wine
But praise God above on Christmas morn,
Who sent His Son to save us from hell and scorn.
There the heavenly babe He lay
In a stall among a lot of hay,
While the Angel Host by Bethlehem
Sang a beautiful and holy anthem.
Christmas time ought to be held most dear,
Much more so than the New Year,
Because that’s the time that Christ was born,
Therefore respect Christmas morn.
And let the rich be kind to the poor,
And think of the hardships they do endure,
Who are neither clothed nor fed,
And Many without a blanket to their bed.
New Years Morning
Only a night from old to new!
Only a night, and so much wrought!
The Old Year’s heart all weary grew,
But said: The New Year rest has brought.
The Old Year’s hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but trusting, said:
“The blossoms of the New Year’s crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead.
The Old Year’s heart was full of greed;
With selfishness, it longed and ached,
And cried: “I have not half I need.
My thirst is bitter and unslaked.
But to the New Year’s generous hand
All gifts in plenty shall return;
True love, it shall understand;
By all y failures, it shall learn.
I have been reckless; it shall be
Quiet and calm and pure of life.
I was a slave; it shall go free,
And find a sweet pace where I leave strife.
Only a night from old to new!
Never a night such changes brought.
The Old Year had its work to do;
No New Year miracles are wrought.
Always a night from old to new!
Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year’s morn come true,
Morn of a festival to keep.
All nights are sacred nights to make
Confession and resolve and prayer;
All days are holy days to wake
New gladness in the sunny air.
Only a night from old to new;
Only sleep from night to morn.
The new is but the old come true;
Each sunrise sees a new year born.
NEW YEAR POEM
For Jeremy Reed
Rejection doesn’t lead me to sadness.
But to inspiration via irritation.
Or at least to a bit of naughty new year wit-
Oh isn’t it a shame my poetry’s not tame
Like Rupert’s or Jay’s – I never could
Get into their STRIDE just to much pride.
To lick the arses of the poetry-of-earthers
Or the sad lady who runs KATABASIS from the back
Of a bike, gets shouted at by rude parkies.
And writing huffy poems to prove it.
.Oh to be acceptable and
IN THE POETRY REVIEW
Like Lavinia or Jo
With double spreads
And a glossy colour photo
Instead, I’m stuck in a bus queue at Morden.
London’s meridian point of zero imagination
It’s a bit like ACUMEN with the Oxleys
Boasting about their 150,000 annual submissions-
If what they print’s the best God help the rest.
At least my Christmas post had – instead of a card.
From Jeremy Reed – his ELEGY FOR DAVID GASCOYNE –
The best poem I’ve had by post in forty years
And Jeremy’s best to date in my estimate –
The English APOLLINAIRE – your ZONE, your SONG
OF THE BADLY LOVED – sitting in a cafe in South End Green.
I send you this poem, Jeremy, sight unseen,
A new year’s gift to you, pushing through
To star galaxies still unmapped and to you, BW,
Sonneteer of silence, huddled in the fourth month
Of your outdoor vigil, measuring in blood, tears and rain
Your syllable count in hour-glass of pain.