The  Post
Christmas  Poetry  Competition   2004

Rules and Email Links for Submissions¹

We hear it said year after year

'Doesn't time just fly?

Can't be 12 months since last Christmas

I've still so much to buy!'

So thinking back 365 days

And what has happened to me

I smile at all the miles of joy

And grimace at the gloomy

I'm grateful that my parents both

Lead lives that are fantastic

Although they're now equipped with hips

And knees made out of plastic.

So I'll help my Mum at turkey time

Set tables, clear away.

And spare a thought for those who miss

Their Mum and Dad today

I'm proud of what my siblings have

Achieved on different paths

I think it's great we're still good mates

And share so many laughs

I'm glad I flew around the world

To see my little sister

Dodged kangaroos and didgeridoos

To tell her how much I've missed her

I marvel how my kids have grown

Each day a little bolder

Wiser? Maybe. Trying? Surely!

And longing to be older.

The crazy things they've done this year

Dyed hair from reds to blondes

Kayaked and rugbied – won't it be lovely

When they win an Olympic bronze...

I cherish moments with my friends

Those nights of wine-fuelled giggles

Supporting, caring, advising, sharing

From crises to minor niggles

Would I remain so sane without

Their ever listening ears?

I know a shoulder's always there

To dry my glistening tears.

I slip into a reverie

Of moments with my sweetheart

Relive the bliss of each fond kiss

The torment when we're apart

And even though the future may

Be something of a mystery

I don't regret a single page

We've added to our history

So take a cup o' kindness yet

As this year's embers glow

And raise your glass and toast the past

With all its joys and woe

Tomorrow is another year

Hidden beneath the snow

I'll dare to tread the path ahead

Leaving footprints as I go.

Christmas cards are tangling on silver guilt strings

And the walls are full to dangling with yuletide greetings

The tree is shedding needles into the shag pile

And late presents are being unwrapped

By the children's hopeful eyes

Stars are shining on the little fir tree

And the glitter of frost on the pavement

Shows it's set to freeze

Cold enough for mince pies and mulled wine

And part of me is praying it's cold enough

To snow this time

Credit cards are ringing to the sound of Christmas tills

Shop returns are bringing a whole host of extra bills

Santa's gone from his grotto, no kids to ply with treats

He's busy sucking humbugs

And stacking up the half price sweets

Stars are shining on the little fir tree

And the glitter of frost on the pavement

Shows it's set to freeze

Cold enough for mince pies and mulled wine

And part of me is praying its cold enough

To snow this time

In amongst the wrapping and satsuma peel

Hidden with all the trappings of yesterdays meal

There’s a little glimmer from a hopeful thing

On closer inspection its a cracker toy

Plastic heart on silver ring

The bins are full to overflowing so I empty them outside

In the silver moonlight of this boxing night

The stars glint on the plastic heart on my hand

And the pavements glitter

As snowflakes gently land

Stars are shining on the little fir tree

And the glitter of frost on the pavement

Shows it's set to freeze

Cold enough for mince pies and mulled wine

And part of me is praying its cold enough

To snow this time

do you know what makes us grow,

our toes, our fingernails, our bones?

do you care what makes it snow,

the cold, the icy skies that blow?

I do not know what makes it snow

and neither do I care to know,

for I've a greater tale to keep

as secret as the whispering wheat.

Do you know if Santa is fat,

or if he wears a bright red hat

and rides a gleaming crimson sleigh

and laughs to drive the chills away?

I know him well, I know it true

for I have met him, I tell you.

The Greatest Man alive to date

fell down my chimney, very late

on Christmas Eve, two nights ago

he woke me up and stubbed his toe!

believe it not, I tell the truth:

'who comes when you have lost a tooth?'

'and what makes you so sure of that,

and not Saint Nick and his red hat?'

'ho! hO! HO!' he cried in pain

and fumbled for the Port in vain

(which Mother had placed by the door,

but Father drank the night before).

He muttered Merry Curses and

with a deft wave of his right hand,

he filled my stocking to the brim

then saw, behind the tree, my grin!

He gasped, and with his pudding grace

leapt right back up the fireplace.

And off he went, but I didn't care

for in my stocking was a beautiful bear...

Dear Santa,

sorry for the fright,

do come again some snowy night

to make my wishes all come true,

Sweet Dreams, Good Night, and

Merry Christmas to you, too.

Let's examine the shops again this Christmas

(The baubles are up in the living room)

And unoriginal kitsch commends the ordinary:

What shall I buy my love

To hint of what I cannot buy?

Let's contrive to be happy again this season

(The invitations whisper: come)

It's an opportunity to frame a little warmth:

What shall I say to the host

To hint of what I cannot say?

Let's remember the secular truth of you and I

(Connected by a living thread)

That we can kill or love, be greedy or be good:

What shall I wish you reader

But the Peace that cannot be understood?

ShazzPRME

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