This isn’t a happy Christmas poem. This poem is something I wrote in the very early hours today, after we received some very difficult family news yesterday, and had to suffer the bitter reminder that Christmas is just another day of the year, plagued with the same pains as so many other days. So, if you aren’t in the mood for a downer, I recommend you don’t continue reading. If you are ok with that, check it out. I’ve copy-pasted my usual “after poem” stuff, so if reading more of my work interests you it is easily accessible, but the real me is not as chipper today as those closings sound. Thank you for your time, and for your support.

Christmas Eve

The stockings were hung, and the tinsel strung out

in hopes that Saint Christmas would soon be about;

the fires were low—so low that a whisper

could snuff out the flames like winds in the winter.

I shut off the lamp, and shuffled along;

away to my bed to dream my dream song.

But this year the sound of the clatter that rose

was only the phone ringing in the shadows.

I dashed to the doorknob and flew down the hall;

I rounded the kitchen to answer the call.

Hello” I announced in a voice oh-so-tight.

I’m sorry, good sir,” came the voice in the night,

“the news that I bring isn’t fit for this eve,

yet Christmas joy is what I’m tasked to thieve.”

“Thieve?” I asked, “Well don’t beat around the bush.”

“I’m sorry, good sir,” he said in a hush,

“at half past three, we found young Mary was dead;

hung by the rafters with a noose ‘round her head.”

He continued and yet the words were all lost;

deeply buried under hallowed winter frost.

I trudged out the door and up through the snow;

“Lustrous” Clement called it, hours ago.

Her favorite lines had been “Now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!”

And now, as leaves at a hurdle take to the sky

so too, I imagine, that her spirit will fly;

Out! Beyond those bustling lights;

Out! Away from suffering nights;

Out! Over oceans sick with sorrow;

Out! Flying past lonely tomorrow;

“OUT!” I cry, with a fire so alive!

“OUT!” It echoes down the steep mountainside!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

Perched over the chasm I sing: “It’s Christmas tonight!

Merry Christmas to all! and to all a good night!”


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Window Thoughts

Staring through the pane

to see a magical world

beyond the sunset.


Christmas Town

Carols and cocoa

waft over the merry streets

while children go by.


Goodbye Balloon

Goodbye my red friend.

I found you on a park bench

trying to fly free.



Towering above

is the bud we planted, back

when I could still see.


Diving Board

Close your eyes, breathe in,

open your arms to the sky,

and savor the fall.



Hello there!


Did you like these poems? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!


Follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha



The icy snowflakes

Fall like a flower’s petals;

Bring winter to life


The Monster

The monster is here

To reign terror over us.

I can’t control it.


Taste of Pain

You cannot tell me

What I should do with my life

’til you taste my pain.



She tastes like honey

And she can move like sugar,

But, boy, does she bite.


Peppermint Nostalgia

I smell peppermint.

It reminds me of my home

In between the rain.


“Merry Christmas one and all”

Echoed the television down the hall.

All the children were filled with cheer

Yet I just wished to have you here.

I just wanted to hold your hand,

Give you the flower that I’d planned

As your gift for this Christmas Day.

But now it begins to wither away.

The once vibrant petals begin to wilt,

And in my heart I feel the guilt

Of a kind man who had been too quiet.

To afraid to cause a riot.

Because to you I am just a friend,

Just another reliable bookend.

And it makes me bite my tongue

Out of fear that we will be undone;

That our friendship will be submerged

If I tell you those little words.

So please, Saint Nick, grant me this:

The courage to ask her for a kiss.

The courage to be something new.

And the courage to tell her “I love you.”