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John Rockie Coppolella

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Asleep in the Hay
by John Rockie Coppolella

Monday, December 15, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by John Rockie Coppolella
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           >> View all 100

A simple poem about the baby Jesus.

See the light in the manger ahead?

It's the Christ child asleep in the hay,

Such a humble start for a little King,

Rejoice! For a Savior was born today.

 

 

 

 

 

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Reviewed by Regis Auffray 1/24/2009
That is indeed the message for Christmas and all through the year, Rockie. Thank you. By the way, I enjoyed your limerick about me. Love and blessings to you,

Regis
Reviewed by J'nia Fowler 1/12/2009
Like the song; Isn't this a strange way to save the world. The King and master and creator of the entire universe sleeps in a bed of hay, awaiting the day he takes all of our sins upon his broken body for us. Strange indeed and it causes me to become teary as I write this. His love is so profound and mine so weak in comparison.
Blessings J'nia
Reviewed by Linda Settles 12/18/2008
Rockie, I thought I was tracking you--but I was not. I just discovered all these beautiful poems and other works. I will catch up as I can.

Thank God the light still shines 2009 years later--and shine it will, forever.

Linda
Reviewed by Joyce White 12/18/2008
LoThe Night Before Christmas, from the scientist's perspective.
(One of my least favorites, but included just because I had it.)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thought you might like this. Joyce

'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of diminutive rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nick. The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated saccarinose fruit confections performing choreography through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head-coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the Arctic-like gloom when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the
precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflecting as it was upon the surface of a recent crystalline aqueous precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself--thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance, drawn by an octet of diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a miniscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated beatified
caller. With this ungulate motive power traveling at a greater vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her cognomen: "Now Dasher, now Dancer," et al, guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the sum total of the thirty-two cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location and was performing a pi radians pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved, with utmost celerity, via a downward salutation, entry by way of the ceramic smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal integuments, soiled by the ebony residue from partial oxidation of carboniferous fuels. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with
reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenances were engorged with crimson circulatory fluid which, its chroma suffusing the dermal layers, approximated the retinal sensation reflected by the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a flexible, curved strip of wood associated with the American aborigines and their ambient, hirsute, facial adornment had an absence of coloring comparable to crystalline frozen hydrogen oxide vapor. Clenched firmly between his incisors was the posterior projection of acalumet whose gray colloidal aerosol fumes, forming
a tenuous ellipticaltorus about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of inpectinated fruit syrup in a colloidal gel state within a hemispherical container. He was of Napoleonic stature, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from being so affected by this risiblity. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and
rotating his head slightly eccentricly, he indicated that trepidation on my part was superfluous. Without utterance, but with noticeable dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle.

Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt pi radian rotation about the vertical axis, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave taking, and effected his egress by salutation up the smoke passage through which he had made ingress. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his rustic winter conveyance. Contracting his oral sphincter, he emitted a
shrill series of notes to the antlered quadrupeds of burden and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observed chiefly among the seed bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to the selfsame assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

Didn't understand much of this but had fun with it anyway.
Here is the link: The Night Before Christmas, from the scientist's perspective.
(One of my least favorites, but included just because I had it.)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reviewed by Linda Hill 12/18/2008
Rockie,
This says it all! Yes, such a humble start, but He rose to be the Saviour of the world! Enjoyed this!

Many blessings,
~Linda
Reviewed by Lois Christensen 12/17/2008
Short but so true a story and always to be about in this world and expressed each and every day and especially this Christmas Season. Merry Christmas to you. i never tire of hearing about Jesus birth in a lowly stable. He was so good a person that he is our savior forever and forever. More I cannot say.
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 12/16/2008
Spot on perfection, Rockie: the Real Reason for the Season. Well done.

(((HUGS))) love and Merry Christmas!, Karla.
Reviewed by Paul Berube 12/16/2008
Excellent Rockie. Short, sweet and right to the point. God bless.
Reviewed by Karen Palumbo 12/15/2008
Rejoice and sing from the highest mountaintop, as history will forever be changed, spiritually graced....

Be always safe,
Karen
Reviewed by 000 000 12/15/2008
Tiny baby, tiny verse. But the meaning is of a thousand words!




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