Featuring thirteen poets from a recent prompt held in December.
Each country is significantly different from the next, either influenced diversely or handed down from generations, with many types of events and festivities. It wasn't just about the past holidays of December. There is definitely a vast range of cultural perspectives regarding celebrations worldwide, with unique traditions and customs in different parts of the globe. Each country commemorates or honors their own special cultural, religious, traditional holiday. The featured poets crafted vibrant tapestries, globally, finely written, evoking personal memories, sensory experiences and emotional connections, their own cultural backgrounds, family or ancestral. Although we normally pick one or two to be highlighted, ILA featured all who participated. It seemed only fair.
'Silver Bells'
It was the first Christmas song I heard this year. Filipinos were known for some peculiarities when it comes to Christmas. The season kicks off at the start of 'ber' months and would just eventually end when everyone started to greet each other with a 'Happy Valentine.'
I was riding a bus, the last stretch from a long trip coming from the far North when I heard the song. Local buses have a penchant to play whatever they want but this time it's the old and familiar 'Silver Bells' and yeah, Christmas is here in the air.
But this time it was totally different. It was hollow and it felt so numb. The feeling of excitement and anticipation of joy for the season is gone. The fun was no longer here anymore and I hate it. The familiar song was haunting, so distant and desolate to me now.
It was a long time ago when Christmas had a different meaning to me. As a child growing up in a faraway barrio, Santa Clause was real to me and I believed he comes every December to bring gifts and toys to those children who behave and have done well in their lives. During Christmas time I can recall that my father was less angry and my mother would stay home due to a break from work. I grew up always looking forward to every December because I believe back then I was happy and probably it was indeed the most wonderful time of the year.
I can remember the adrenaline rush of lighting a firecracker. It feels like your screaming of happiness was amplified a thousand times by the loud crack of the explosion that echoes throughout the barrio. My playmates and I had made makeshift guns of wood or a bent branch of guava, then loaded it with 'polbora'. We sang carols around the neighborhood, were chased by the dogs, and returned home in the wee hours of the night dividing our 'purse' equally among us. The money was for candies more 'polbora' and bigger firecrackers the next morning. It was fun. That was my definition of happiness back then.
But things could turn out differently when we grow up like adults. The fun has started to wane. It happened when paying bills, tuition fees and deadlines started to creep into our vocabulary. When our hearts have been riddled with so much pain, frustrations, love lost, and regrets.
My fascination with Santa had stopped eventually. One thing maybe, was that I don't like his candies anymore. I can buy mine now of my choice, tastier than the money I got from our carols and it was bigger and sweeter than Santa's candies coming from the North Pole.
I can recall what happened to my Santa Clause one night. Late from roaming around from the Carols, I decided that I wouldn't sleep until the morning because I wanted to see Santa doing his rounds. I just laid at my bed made of bamboo slits, pretending that I was asleep. I covered myself with my old blanket that had holes.
Then suddenly, out of the pale light from the kerosene lamp, I saw a shadow slowly inching toward the socks that I hung at the back of the door. The hair was familiar and the shoulders were quite frail. I was so sure it was not from Santa Clause but that evening I uncovered a secret. Santa Clause was not a man but she was my mother. I was peeping through the hole in my tattered blanket and managed a small voice in almost a whisper. I said, "Ma nag unsa ka dra sa may medyas?" To her surprise, she was quite startled, she retorted back saying, 'tulog dra nagmata pa di ay kang kanahana ka." Since that fateful night, Santa Clause became the butt of a joke in the house.
Ten years ago I was a licensed minister. I was spewing the same lines that I heard since I was a small kid growing up in the church. It was the message of hope from this 'little boy' that was born in a manger, that His birth entails the coming of 'Pacem en Terris' and the salvation of our damned soul from hell. These were some of the things that 'adults' have invented to follow. They said this was the meaning of it all. The reason for such revelry and fun of having Christmas. The word became flesh and dwelt among us. I knew the lines very well.
I am not sure if it's the same old lie at present. I don't have updates anymore if it's still the same message prevailing until today. I have given up such stuff for quite a long time already. I mean, you know, that's what people do, they can make a lot of things to own the fun and wrap it around for their selfish advantage. Coming to earth to save humans from his own anger so that he can't kill them all together someday is quite gruesome for me now to subscribe.
'Silver bells, Silver bells, it's Christmas time in the city. Ring-a-ling, hear them ring, soon it will be Christmas day.' I heard the bus stereo right at the top of my head. I was looking outside through the window on my left side. It was hypnotic, the trees and buildings were all moving in cadence as if they were running away from the bus. I was lost in my thoughts when the bus stopped at the terminal already. I didn't hear the carols anymore. The remaining passengers one by one stood up slowly and descended to the pavement.
I stepped outside the bus. A sudden rush of fresh air stabbed my face. I was towing my luggage through the floor when I saw the TV monitor in the terminal. It was muted by the noise all over the place but the crawling of subtitles suggested that the President has launched distribution of another 'ayuda' to the Filipinos in along queue under the rain. Then it shifted to banner the International story, it's for the first time in history the humankind that President Putin has launched a hypersonic missile. No one and nothing can stop and intercept such missiles in modern warfare. I froze for a moment while staring at the big TV screen. I was gaping in awe and perplexed with what's going on in the world, nowadays.
I was brought back to my senses when a sudden flash of lightning followed by a roar of thunder outside of the terminal came. I grabbed the handle of my luggage and hurried up to the exit. 'Fuck', I uttered, as I doubled my steps towards the exit.
I held a red Tricycle, it was already raining. It will be just a few more meters away from my house. yeah, I said to myself, it's gonna be OK, things will just be alright.
"Silver Bells, silver bells, it's Christmas time in the City. Ring-a-ling, hear them ring, soon it will be Christmas Day". The song still lingers in my head...
© Floyd Gale Cabus
Philippines
"NOCHE BUENA"
Traditions of Filipino and Latino are
very similar alike with many cultures
during Yuletide season
Where we prepare food and yummy
delicacies for all to enjoy, savor
mouth watering treats
Making a list, way ahead of time
what to prepare for the favorite dish
and special requests
Cooking the Eve of Christmas day
huddle in the kitchen with the various
aromas in the air
While the young ones play, listen to
stories about Jesus birth from the
elders and then pray
While some can't afford too much
on a budget, offer a dish or two and still
be happy and contented
Others do like a house hopping before
the clock strikes midnight and have a
dish they don't have
Least eating something different they
never had tried, tasted or don't know how
to cook or afford
Some households will go to mass on
early morning, while most will go for
midnight mass
We call this 'Noche Buena', a tradition
Filipinos practice since the Philippines
lived under Spanish rule
We all gather together and start praying,
celebrating Jesus birth,
our savior, creator, redeemer
Asking for forgiveness, blessings and
happiness in life to be fulfilled with no
ill feeling or hate
Bonding with family, loved ones and
close friends sharing hugs, small gifts,
personal messages
Staying up late or just waking up
with the kiddos opening their presents
from everyone
Watching their happy faces and
expressions squealing with glee
fills your heart with joy
As the grown ups exchange some words
of encouragement, love, wisdom
giving positivity
Welcoming the birth of Jesus
in our homes as the sun rises bright
which I did, having a festive meal
Giving some alms to the needy, poor
and unfortunate, attend mass asking for
The Lord's blessings and guidance
As years passed, moving back here to my country of birth, I missed all the foods and the old tradition
Celebrating how my old folks did
back home were they're from
brings wonderful memories I'll never forget
I still try to attend midnight mass here
with my family or hubby at a parish church
nearby and celebrate Christ birth
for it is the spirit of Christmas that is
important to remember and installed in
each one of us to spread to all.
© Gloria Magallanes-Loeb
SFO, USA
"THEY'VE COME" Scrambles and shambles The villages are scared
The hens are running into the bush And when morning comes Then let off for a feed They smile majestically as they bounce out
The shambles haven't swallowed.
They've stormed our homesteads
With cruising languages
That break our hearts
And ears
And self confidence
We're down to earth
Knowing not how to communicate
The city gems have arrived.
They're scared of our dark houses
The bushes scare them harder
And yet they speak a brave language,
They fear the greens
Sliding through mrenda
Is a mile of a job
They cannot do
They're full of pizzas in their words.
Our t-shirts
Turned feet wipes
When they wash off their feet
To climb to bed
Since they cannot shower
In the coldness of our waters
They're broad based.
The oversized t-shirts
That no longer covers their six packs
Or flat tummies
Are ours to grab, they say,
But do we refuse
We grab every bit
Because we're the villagers.
They bought enough for all
Enguli I say
Yet they claim
They don't swallow the bitterness
Every drunkard sings of them
Dances to the tune of their pockets
That's their choice
While we watch in shame, not fame.
They must leave as early
And no luggage for them this time
Zakayo has hardened our farms
Even bananas are not laughing with us
The textures of tradition
No longer favors the city moguls
What shall we offer to you?
© Dredan Brian (Dre Arts)
Kenya
"LET'S REUNITE"
Ye who humans be
Hark the humblest plea
Whichever nation
your identity
of whichever crowd
You seek ancestry
Whichever Scripture
You love to recite
Let us reunite
Let us reunite
Whole humanity
For the peace I plead
For the peace I plead
Same the seed us grow
Same the womb us hold
Same is the spouses' flow
Same the child is got
Since times Sun arose
Till time it will set
The crowds will be met
The Highest Deity
The One and The Only
Beware of the shrewd foe
The source of misery
Beware the Serpent's glow
Misleading humanity
To pit of eternal woe
Turning our earth into hell
Turning our hearts to stone
His craftiest yell
No, no, don't take his way,
Detesting your own kind
Do not assist his sway
Be not of yourself blind
Let peace flourish on earth
Let smiles adorn the faces
Let happiness take its birth
Let descend Divine graces
Let God be pleased with you
Let Moses bless thy sect
Wear Jesus' truest hue
Don't Mohammed neglect
Stick to the Word Divine
They all spoke the selfsame
Accordingly act and shine
Eschew Satanic flame
Brethren all, brethren ye,
Brethren be, brethren be.
© Safdar Bhatti
Pakistan
"FROZEN FRAME"
In a perfect sphere, where, in the snow
Falls in perfect harmony, gathering family
Feasting, playing, with nothing contrary,
Only fun in the peaceful snowy glow.
The scene is set,
The people prepped,
The table bent,
The children are a heavenly send.
The frozen frame is icy,
Covered in white powder whose
Calm settles into old bones,
Where memory is alive, but dicey!
For the child, it's the here and now
That matters, while all else
Is icing on a cake, where the candle will blow,
And family is always best when many are less.
And the anticipation of guessing
What's in the box is filled with laughter
As outrageous ideas are a pleasing
Game that ends chortling giggler.
The frame is never lame,
It set the bar very high for following
Years, as its innocence came
With its childhood's naive framing.
© Malak Kalmoni Chehab
Canada
"I MISS"
I miss the Christmas of the old days
When traditions and customs
Were everyone's Bible.
We could feel the apple and cinnamon scent
In the Snow Queen's breath.
We used to let our imagination fly
While we were sculpting
Something extraordinary out of the glittering snow.
Enveloped in the warmth of the parental home,
We took a piece from one of Granny's "cozonac".
We eagerly wait for the generous Santa Clause
Trying to not let the little stars' lullaby
To slowly take us into the land of dreams.
I miss the childish excitement I felt
When I saw the presents under the tree on Christmas morning.
Christmas carols were echoing through the house,
Giving the wonderful news filling my heart with joy.
Winter used to be a wonderland where everything was magical
And I played outside among the snowflakes almost every day.
© Gheorghe Laura
Romania
Note:
"Cozonac" is a traditional holiday sweet bread.
"SANKRANTI - The Festival of Traditions and Culture"
The harvest is over; spring is here.
It's time for rest and recreation;
The sun ascends north,
A chill sweeps the earth.
And Sankranti, the festival of cheer
Envelopes the land, and atmosphere;
Kites fly, and hearts rage with passion.
Gratitude threads people in mirth,
For nature's blessings and bounty.
As the sun shines brighter,
Women in groups gather,
Wearing new and colorful cloth
Sharing tilgul and Pongal broth,
Makar rice in pots overflowing in plenty.
Lohri fire burns through the night
The young and old dance and sing
Corn breads, and spinach,
Savored as festival snacks.
Young and old join, ignite the light,
Singing and dancing with delight
Around the fire, in a hula hoop ring.
An enduring festival, crafted with pals,
Rooted in earth, and textured in tradition;
A celebration of hope,
A cultural kaleidoscope
A festival of people and animals,
A bond that sparkles, as it enthralls,
Weaves regions in a cultural connection.
© Kalucharan Sahu
India
Notes:
Sankranti: Falls on January 14th, marks the transition of the sun from the zodiac of Sagittarius (dhanu) to Capricorn (makara) Tilgul: a sweet made from sesame seeds and Jaggery, especially in Maharashtra, India Pongral Broth: A flavored dish, made from rice and split green gram, tempered with curry leaves, hing, pepper, ginger, cumin, etc., especially in Southern India.
Makar Rice: A recipe of freshly harvested rice with milk, banana and jaggery, exchanged as a sign of permanent friendships. A delicacy of Odisha and West Bengal.
Lohri: The festival is called Lohri in Northern India. It marks the end of winter harvest and bondires are made, accompanied by singing and dancing.
Heavenly Father,
On this sacred night, as we celebrate the birth of Your Son, Jesus Christ, we humbly bow before Your majesty. We thank You for the immeasurable gift of Your love, sent to earth as a tiny baby. May the spirit of Christmas fill our hearts with joy, peace, and hope. May we remember the true meaning of this season - the love and sacrifice of Your Son for all humanity.
We pray for Your blessings upon our families and friends, and upon all those who are less fortunate. May Your love shine through us, inspiring us to spread kindness and compassion to all we encounter. As we gather to celebrate, may we be mindful of the true spirit of Christmas - a spirit of love, peace, and goodwill toward all. In Your holy name, we pray. Amen.
"MY AMMA'S COCONUT CANDY"
Fragrance of grated
coconut
a pure delight,
Whispers of sugar
caramelizing in the pan,
Rich perfume of
condensed milk,
a decadent plan,
Sweet scent is
tempting and bold
when Amma
press it on the tray
hot from the stove,
Coconut Candies
The aroma
lingers in the air
Sweet vanilla
essence, brings
comfort
in each bite,
A reminder of the
pleasure that
a coconut candy
can hold.
Delicious
© Sheila Ann Packirnathan
Malaysia
"MELODIC MELODIES"
Some memories are worth remembering
Those moments with a naughty smile
Shining eyes with numerous dreams already made
As soon as the xmas was placed near entrance
It was time for the children to announce it to me
They knew me too well as I would host the event
Laughter we shared while discussing programs
Excitement when school's decorations were done
Students hardly wanted to study nor attend classes
Deciding programs and activities were really hard
Along with children, we needed some good time
Cakes were the best part of the celebration
December 25th was decorated in red and white
Even teachers and students were in those shades
Everyone giggled and made jokes, noisily
As soon as I stood on stage, kids shouted to cheer me!
What a moment!
It was that love and happiness they shared with me!
Becoming a kid, I shouted back, waving at lovelies!
Music was on, dancing never stopped!
Other teachers hated noise but did we care?
Neighbors asked us to lower the noise
But did we care?
It was our day and enjoying it was the rule!
Huge Santas arrived and we all shouted even more
Santas threw chocolates and everyone collected it
Celebrations had to be over!
But children said to me, "Ma'am, we'll dance, plzzz"
Looking around, I put on the music, get lost in crowds
Furious teachers were shouting!
Music was on and they didn't know the culprit
We all didn't hear their voices
After all, it had to end as parentes were waiting
Children telling their parents about the celebrations
Parents excited at their happiness
Children hugging me with joy,
My melodic melodies,
singing in my heart, even now!
© Sonal Rao
India
"THE BOND OF TOGETHERNESS: CHERISHED MOMENTS AND FAVORITE FESTIVE FLAVORS"
Being of Italian descent, Christmas was never just a day - it was an event. It wasn't simply about exchanging gifts or decorating a tree; it was about togetherness, tradition, and the unmistakable aroma of food that lingered in the house for days.
Growing up, my memories are infused with the rhythm of my mother's preparations, her hands a blur as they transformed flour, sugar, and butter into something magical.
By early December, she began her symphony of baking. It started quietly - soft humming while she shaped dough into crescents for almond cookies, or pressed figs and nuts into sticky, golden pastries.
But by mid-month, the kitchen had transformed into her workshop. Sheet pans lined every available surface. The oven seemed perpetually aglow, as though it, too, knew this was no ordinary time of year. Bowls of icing were left to harden on counters, and you dared not touch one of the "pizzelle" before she'd stacked them into perfectly aligned towers.
Christmas Day itself was a feast in every sense. Early in the morning, relatives would begin to arrive - arms full of gifts, laughter already echoing down the hallway. The dining table, stretching longer than I ever thought possible, was draped in white linen, set with the "good" china.
The first course, always the 'antipasto," was a meal on its own. Slices of prosciutto and salami folded like fabric, sharp cheeses nestled among marinated artichokes and olives that glistened like jewels. "Just a taste," my father would warn with a grin, knowing we were far from finished.
Then came the pasta dish. Lasagna. The centerpiece of the meal, layered high with ricotta, mozzarella, and my mother's velvety meat sauce. It wasn't rushed; it was a gift in itself, a dish that reminded everyone why we'd gathered.
The meat course followed - roast beef, perhaps a platter of sausage with peppers, each dish flanked by sides that my mother made effortlessly. Escarole sautéed with garlic, roasted potatoes dusted in rosemary, and sometimes two kinds of vegetables.
We'd sit for hours. The talk grew louder as the plates emptied and stories were shared. My sisters and I, seated at one end of the table, would catch my mother's proud gaze from the kitchen doorway. She rarely sat for long, always carrying in one more platter, one more tray.
Dessert, though, was the grand finale. A bounty of "frutta secca" - walnuts and hazelnuts still in their shells, tangerines whose skins peeled back like paper, and dried figs stuffed with almonds. And then, of course, the cookies. The cookies were her legacy - biscotti crisped perfectly for dipping, soft anise cookies glazed pale white, and "struffoli" - golden, honey-drenched little balls of fried dough piled high and sprinkled with rainbow confetti. She sent everyone home with tin containers packed full, knowing each bite would bring back the memory of this day.
Now that my sisters and I have inherited this tradition, we find ourselves returning to her recipes, to the rhythm she instilled in us. Christmas still stretches across an entire day, an anchor of togetherness in a world that sometimes feels too busy. My sisters' children now carry plates to tables, telling stories, laughing, and tasting what we tasted - those cherished moments of being home, surrounded by love and food made with care.
And though my mother is gone, her spirit lingers - warm in the oven's glow, sweet in the scent of baking cookies, and ever-present at our table. The 'bond of togetherness" she built remains unbreakable. For us, Christmas will always be a feast - not just of food, but of love, family, and the "favorite festive flavors" that tie us to our roots.
© Concetta Pipia
U.S.
"DIVINE TIMING"
Divine timing
A candlelight of reflection
That return us to God
The bells of the church
Are announcing the birth of Christ.
Let us get out of darkness!
Let us sing and pray!
Our voices will become one
Our souls will melt together
In a choir of heartbreaking kneeling.
Miracles are here to overcome judgement
Miracles are here to overcome hate.
Prayer is powerful
Associated with gratitude and kindness.
A divine timing
When the sky and the earth are embracing each other.
© Bogdana Gageanu
Romania
"MY RECIPE FOR CHRISTMAS TIME"
What is it we all do, on the build-up to Christmastide,
Wrapping up all those presents,
Then find a place for them to hide.
Or maybe just place them around the Christmas tree,
Full view so that the family can see.
Listen to the music of a jolly Christmas song,
Knowing that every Carol draws you nearer,
Christmas Eve is close now, it won't be long.
We watch those Christmas movies, And the programs that they repeat
But it doesn't matter how many years you've seen them,
A Christmas Carol, or Disney on Ice, with snacks to eat.
When the day arrives, we gather together,
So many meals and cakes to make
But here is a recipe, that you don't need to bake...
Take a house full of cheerfulness,
Spread it around for all to share.
Throw in heartfelt prayers for peace,
To show the world that we care.
A helping of laughter and happy smiles, is Something that everyone needs Inspirational encouragement is priceless for every one of our deeds.
Mix them all together,
You have a perfect dish
Finish it off with plenty of love,
And make a special wish.
It's all so simple and wonderful,
And everything turns out just fine.
That's my vision of the Holiday season,
My recipe for Christmas time... © Liza Michelle Lyman
UK
"FESTIVAL, FOUNTAINS OF EDUCATION"
*Scent of festival in any religion leaves
a scientific message,
conveying message for the well being
of people of any age.
Gathering at a glance, a crowd of
people with no division,
No discrimination and distinction of
caste, gender, religion.
Celebration of festival, integration is
strongly cemented
*Bond of gathering in festivals
brotherhood is created
Festivals help to embrace to *colors
of culture and religion
Keeping connection with origin and roots
to broaden vision.
A vehicle for the presentation of
our values and emotions
Special moments with loved ones
relieving our emotion
People get short relief from this
monotonous and busy life *Getting cheerful moments with new dress and people rife
Offering different fruits in different
festival of devotion
Take all seasonal flowers and fruit
fulfill health condition.
Inspiring citizens to live among
all with unity and brotherhood
Remembers the legends in nation
festivals to lead life good.
Let every ism celebrate the festivals
with new generations
To make them know kith and kin with
great satisfaction
Let every festival leave worthy
and humane information To make future generation humane
human in realization
© Prasanna Bhatta
India
Thank you for publishing my poem amongst the other poets' best entries!
Congratulations everyone!