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Litmas Contest 2005      deviations submitted in the last 47 months

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I Miss The PastI Miss The Past  By: Adam Rosner   
I miss the cool music and the nice vibes,  The awesome trends and those stoned guys,  
The crazy hippies and Sonny and Sher,  The tie-dye T-shirts and those people with that funky hair.  I miss the Jackson Five and the drunken fights,  John Lennon, Ronald Reagan, and Disco Saturday night.  The green fields and the festive wild parties,  Afros, good food, and those teenagers who would say, "Narlie."  I remember the old stories of the people who've been,  And those protesters that would rant again, and again, and again.  A time when friends were I Miss The Past
in Poetry
Airdrop before christmasTwas the night before Christmas, and all through the house   
Not a creature was stirring, except the night watch.   
Empty mags on bandoliers were hung by the chimney with care   
In hopes that the supply drop would soon be there   
The privates were nestled all snug at their posts   
While visions of Christmas with family danced in their heads.   
And Sarge in his helmet,, and I in my cap,   
Had just settled down for paperwork and correspondance,   
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,   
I sprang from the table to see what was the matter. Airdrop before christmas
in Poetry
The Ultimate WishI wish all had been covered in snow  I wish I could have seen it's pure white  I wish it were glowing in dim winterlight  Instead, all I can wish, is wish you   
And all the winter trees remain black  And I only see it's consuming cold  And all the things feel so old  So this is it...   
All the peace in the world could not enlighten me  And still I wish you  I'll wait and see   
All the world feels ancient with us  And still I wish you  A merry christmas. The Ultimate Wish
in Poetry
Love -- I miss you.I love you.  I love you too...  I miss you.  I miss you too...  Do you remember?  I remember those times...  When we were together?  I wan't to go back there...   
I want to go back!   
Ever since Iv'e been gone,  All the time when I moved,  I've been writing this song,  All while thinking of you.   
Remember the times,  When we sat in the darkness,  The wind blew the chimes  Showed me your devotedness.   
I spend all of the time now  Sitting writing down the memories  Wondering if somehow,  We can meet again, share the symp Love -- I miss you.
in Poetry
Hot Cocoa LoveHot cocoa  Forever warm  In the coldest time  
Of the year.   
Steam arising  From the Christmas  Colored mug  And the fire burns again.   
Forever burning  Forever churning  With the heart-felt  Warmth within.   
Christmas, this winter holiday  With family, with friends  Is it shared, reviving  The warmth when the sun fades.   
The mug, filled to the rim  Holds joy and warmth  Can’t forget the marshmallows  Counteracting the frigid weather.   
My mug is twice as full  Filled to the brim  With hot cocoa, marsh Hot Cocoa Love
in Poetry
StargazingI saw Cassiopeia last night-  The trip was frigid and my neck is sore  But it was worth it.  Too bad it's Christmas-  The neighbors' house was lit up so bright  It's a wonder I could see a damn thing. Stargazing
in Poetry
Red and BlackChristmas 2005   
I tried to surf Alton Brown's eggnog  at the first holiday gathering of the season  with only ten shopping days left.   
I hoped to effortlessly crest the softened peaks  and conquer Mt. Everest beneath the mistletoe.  Under the driving rush of too much bourbon,  it felt far more like the failure of the fellowship as  I realized that I will never learn to surf,  especially in winter.   
My failure takes me back to my mother.  She is beautiful and three dimensional in my memory  filled with laughter, stories, and holiday spirits  (whiskey was the Red and Black
in Poetry
A Shadow Saga Yule time Tale
in Prose
Miracle of SnowA child walks wide-eyed  Among elves at work  
Santa laughs merrily  Beckoning to him   
Eager, he runs down  The snow laden paths  Arms ready for his  Snowy-white puppy   
Santa reaches into his  Gift sack filled with  
Childrens wishes  And in his gloved hand   
A Tofee......   
The light in his  
Eyes leaves...  He has been good  For the entire year   
And just like that  His beliefs shattered  He walks towards his  
Mother seeking comfort   
But in silence  
They walk out  The bright mall  & Miracle of Snow
in Poetry
Remembering...Stare intently,    They’re just…      Just pinpoints of light        Unwilling to give up any                                         secrets...                                                          Betray mine own heart, if only…   
Clasp the coat tighter     Round my shoulders      Assuming it’s                           just like                                      your arms.                                                    How I wish it were…   
Breath of winter    Carries a sweet melody on an icy tongue      Memories        warm and toasty &nb Remembering...
in Poetry
The Perfect Gift“Dammit, Jack,” she said. “You’re not going.”   
A grubby face looked up at her. “I have to get you your gift.”   
“How stupid do I look?” A hand smacked the counter-top, hard. She crumpled the dirty towel like it was a three-inch thick aluminum plate and flung it across the room. The filthy dishes, still immersed in the sink, glared up at her, neglected. Jack, seated with a coffee and a newspaper at a paint-chipped table, couldn’t see her face, though he so desperately wished to. He watched black marble veins flee from her angry fingertips as they landed. Bent over the counter, she was a spring flower, a daffodil or a tig The Perfect Gift
in Prose
Summer Christmas.dredge up those old memories  you learn from the  
summer Christmasses as you  stack on the decorative pine cones  for your underground holiday   
(trimming the remnants of a sweeter time  with sleigh bells and eggnog and  needles and dust, a retention pond  getaway; we rebelled so sluggishly)   
if you remember, we were friends then,  when we lit the decay with the gold of sunset.  nevermind if you were different by the light of night  you were there when dusk rose up   
(knock on the door to hop on the trail;  some said you did it because I was familiar. &n Summer Christmas.
in Poetry
Ice BlueICE BLUE   
        It’s ice blue outside, but in here it is all red and orange and gold.  People all condense into one room for merrymaking, paying no heed to the crystals cracking the windowpane.           We are here tonight, gathered like this, to celebrate something, but I have the idea that at least half of us have forgotten what it is we really are celebrating.  This day has become all toys, and colored paper, and bright lights, and food, and shine.  There is no solemnity to the occasion, and I think that ma Ice Blue
in Prose
Her Royal ReunionA night on her knees in the ice,  one pale star all she has in the world  and that fading fast, supernovaed.  
 
He, Czar of the Winter,  She, Queen of the Light:  Together they built December  from sticks and stones  and broken bones;  and now he is fleeing,  zapping away from her,  driving the winds.   
The glittered trees are all the gift  
she will get this holiday--  lit and murdered coolly in the storms.   
Blue lipped sweetheart,  palms pressed together in the snow,  Lover joining lover in cold,  white truth. Her Royal Reunion
in Poetry
Shiverlet's make some teenage mistakes.   
it would be worth it  i'd make it worth it,  trust me.   
stand in the cold  for nothing else,  dark lights pushing  through the sky.  wrap up and shiver,  stand quietly out front,  looking side to side  for a pair of yellow tinted beams  to part the misty air,  an engine to creep through shadows  and slow wheels to touch  black-faded-gray streets  that will stop before my feet.   
the click of the locks  allows me in,  silently slamming doors.   
unavowed promises  
begin to ring cl Shiver
in Poetry
Pseudonym SantaLiquid life lisping.  Eggnog soul control.  We are the life of the  Christmas party on  
New Years Eve not  
making much sense.   
I live in a Christmas  tree tumbling down  to the family room  
floor.  A stand, a  
star.  I am the real  ghost of the present.   
Pseudonym Santa,  
that’s what you are to  me and the rest of the  
world.  You are the  
snowman in the front  yard of my house.    Don’t you hate how  
you melt so smoothly?   
The world is a candy cane  hanging from the bran Pseudonym Santa
in Poetry
A Winter Night's Tale------>When I was a young boy, my uncle, Sebastian, told me the story of the first Santa Claus. It was the beginning of December, so you technically couldn't call it a winter night, but the gusts of wind and pinpoints of stardust dancing outside sure made it feel like one. Mom and Dad were out at a business party, so I was parked in front of the old black and white watching The Honeymooners.  
          Just as Ralph was about to say, "To the moon..." uncle Sebby, interrupted. "Sam, come in here boy... I got something I'd like to tell yah."  
        A Winter Night's Tale
in Prose
Kissing FrostWhite perfection, in all its terrible fury.  The wind howled through the icy wind, screaming in agony as it cast knives of chill through all in its path.  The snow that had once piled up on the ground in a beautiful sheet had turned to treacherous quicksand, gripping her feet and sucking her down, every step more difficult than the last.  Everything in vision was a dangerous white.  A perfect sheet of utter white.   
Niamh shivered, clutching her shoulders at the seams of her coat.  The wind bit at her exposed face like needles, having already yanked her chestnut hair from its bun an Kissing Frost
in Prose
GlowIt’s Christmas Eve, thought Eva as her combat boots clunked through the freshly-fallen snow. No fucking gum on the cement. Purple sky mixed with the angry gray clouds of a vengeful God, dumping flurries of wrath from the heavens.   
The K-Mart doors slid open like snakes, rattling a bit as they did. Let there be light! Heat! Camaraderie, of sorts! The eerie glow welcomed a queen to her palace.   
A man with spiky bluish-black hair stapled new price tags on a shelf of red-and-green teddy bears. His white employee’s shirt and red-orange apron only complemented the teen excrement look. “Hey, Matt,” Eva said, “They’re fifty pe Glow
in Prose
cHrIsTmAsHo! Ho! Ho! as the wind and snow  blow  away our refined aspirations:  we gobble, gobble up the dinner,  
stretch the plastic, play the winner.   
Dreaming, as always, of that -  elusive white christmas.  I admire the snow drifting, splat  onto the eyelashes of my children...  ...playing little children games...  Mastercard moment:  priceless then,  Indeed!   
What memories ... snow dropping, blowing.  What memories ... plastic tributes , cattle lowing.   
I hope to give,  inspire and live ... just  in that moment - always.   
Th cHrIsTmAs
in Poetry
Winter's HandThe coldest night of the year, deadest night of the year.  
We break the air with cheers and souls lifted in the air.  But what if i dont believe, what it i dont see.  The reasons behind christmas that others hold so dear.   
God bless my sinful heart. Please keep me in high regaurds.  Dont let me fall from grace, keep me close show me the way.   
So we rush to spend fortunes away, selfless giving and forced smiles.  
Does no one else have my eyes? Christmas is lonley in disguise.  
For us who have no family or friends to share.  This is another season, that teases us.  So we bear, w Winter's Hand
in Poetry
An Old-fashioned HolidayWe are come again to the narrow days,  driven in by cold and chill.  Gather we do, in many ways,  to talk and eat and drink our fill.   
We raise our glasses for the toast,  gifts given - liberties taken.  Goodwill when we need it most,  a fact now much mistaken.   
Comfort and sloth have made us blind,  to the nature of the season.  Kindness in more than state of mind,  is required by basic reason.   
I'll not say that prayer is wasted,  nor that your belief be sterile.  Bitter cold out there is tasted,  others spend these days in peril.   
It An Old-fashioned Holiday
in Poetry
Christmas Is...Christmas is  Time to  Relax  Feast -  Gorge.   
Gorge on  Greed  Commercialism  Spend  I said, SPEND!   
Spend everything  Til all you’ve got  Are receipts  Of over-priced gifts   
Spend time  Family  Friends  Cherish memories  Good times   
Cherish your over-priced gifts  Because   
Christmas is  Time to  
Relax  Feast  - Gorge Christmas Is...
in Poetry
WintervalWinterval   
Being home for Christmas  smells like orange peels  cut extra thin to maximize  the feeling of sleeping  next to a beautiful girl.   
The oranges are bio-products  by-products of an old acquaintance  a faceless Angelo with curly hair  and blazing, dangerous eyes.   
Charles Dickens teaches us  it's all about the love,  
and Margaret Mitchell  
reigns on television  
like the queen she is  alongside glorious Marlene  and a blank Garbo stare.   
Christmas means dial-up connections  from spotlessly clean floors  that si Winterval
in Poetry

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