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Showing posts from December, 2010

A Christmas Poem

The First Christmas

Bells are ringing,
and everyone is gay,
happy ones are caroling,
for Christ is born today!

Born in a stable,
with courtiers of sheep,
he could not be more exalted,
this king under stars asleep.

The angels sing a heavenly tune,
to celebrate his birth,
and dancing with stars so bright,
they laugh with unbounded mirth.

The humble shepherds bring their sheep,
the Christ child to behold,
the Wise men come with gifts for the king,
with frankincense and gold.

Mild Mary attends her infant son,
and Joseph watches with care,
as dearest Jesus sleeps in peace,
peace is embodied here.

Chandler Hamby (Grade 6)

Christmas Signs of Love

The Christmas Tree

This seablue fir that rode the mountain storm
Is swaddled here in splints of tin to die.
Sofas around in chubby velvet swarm;
Onlooking cabinets glitter with flat eye;
Here lacquer in the branches runs like rain
And resin of treasure starts from every vein.

Light is a dancer here and cannot rest.
No tanagers or jays are half so bright
As swarms of fire that deep in fragrance nest
In jungles of the gilt exotic night
Where melons hang like moonstone. White above
Rises that perfect star, the sign of love.

On carpets’ fairy turf, in rainbow dark,
Here once the enchanted children laid their heads,
Reached for the floating moon above the park,
And all their hopes were simple blues and reds.
Beneath the electric halo, none could see
Swords in the ankle of the victim tree.

Each named a patron star: Arthur said green
For August in the country; and Betty blue
For swinging and the Florida surf; while Jeanne
Decided gold. One horoscope was true:
The star of D…

Another Dior Hartje Poem!

The Hope of New Snow

The white below my feet, so innocently soft
Soon is blackened from the dirt we fling,
Our once clean feet are dark with filth.
Yet, soft flakes will fall again;
Cover our mistakes with a new innocence.
New life, like new snow, offers hope to children
Once pure,
Now begrimed by the world.

--Dior Hartje (Grade 9)

Chandler Hamby, Promising Young Poet

I'd like to introduce a promising young writer, Chandler Hamby, who is eleven years old. This poem expresses sentiments well beyond her years, I think. 


my birth

I saw you from up in the sky,
just a twinkle in your eye,
while God looked down and smiling said,
"Would you like to have that empty bed?"

I told him yes, and thanked him much,
to be granted parents like such,
I said good-bye to my heavenly friends,
and told them God is good to all ends.

So I danced along the path of stars
and said good-bye to brother Mars,
I told the sun I'd see him soon,
along with Jupiter and Neptune.

At last I lighted on a cloud,
which took me down to you.
In your womb I finally grew,
a seed which God had given to you.

At last the joyful tidings spread,
that I was born upon the bed.
That now is not the bed of want because I came to you,
as well as some brothers few.

So now I'm older and I'm grown,
but still the seed that you have sown,
your work is almost done,
there remains…

Gary Gregg's Third Novel in the Sporran Series

As holiday reading and giving approaches, consider ordering Gary Gregg's third novel - The Iona Conspiracy. Published by Winged Lion Press and available for Christmas giving, this young adult adventure novel follows Jacob Boyd from his home in America to Scotland's sacred island of Iona where he discovers ancient burials, battles the evil "Mortimer," rescues a friend and mourns the death of another. Tapping into real history, events, and mysteries related to Iona, Saint Columba, the Book of Kells, Oran's Chapel, and Arthurian legends, the adventure doesn't end until Jacob must confront his greatest nightmare in the modern Gorgon of Lilith Frost.

Though it will be available through retail channels in the coming months, personalized copies for gift giving for 2010 can only be ordered direct from me. The 422 page book will retail for $17.95, but if you order by December 15, Dr. Gregg will pay shipping and handling if you order by that deadline.

Send your name, …

Another Hannah Millikin Poem

Song of the Birds


They bounce and they hop and they chirp;
Spreading their wings with glee,
they fly from tree to tree;
The crisp, cool drops of rain
splash on their gleaming feathers;
They sing a joyful melody
and a song of praise;
Beckoning to their young,
the mothers teach them to laugh, to play and to rejoice;
Yet as the pitter-patter of the rain fades away,
these little ones are still found glowing with merriment.
Splashing in the fresh, new puddles,
they sing the song of the birds –
a testament and a praise to their glorious Maker.

-- Hannah Millikin
Grade 9