It was close, very close. The votes are all in, they have been counted, and a winner has emerged. Before announcing the result, I would just like to say a big thank you to all those who entered this year. The standard as usual was very high, which made the voting
extremely tough, so thanks to all those who voted as well.
So without further ado, the winner of the 2002 Post Christmas Poetry Competition is ~roll of drums~
War At Christmas By Bluebottle
Well done Bluebottle, a well deserved win. You were voted the best by your peers. Congratulations!!!
We're all dreaming of a Christmas that's white,
But there are countries where at Christmas they fight.
For them, the blanket over the ground is red,
Not snow, but blood of the injured, dying and dead.
There are bells that ring there at Christmas time,
The bells are gun, and they've rung always, it's a crime!
Killing and murdering, dying and death are the gifts,
All these wars cause hatred, killing and yet deeper rifts.
The tinsel is the injured, orphaned children, alone,
Children who've never seen peace, and war's all that's known.
Christmas carols there are torture and punishment;
A friendly conversation there is drowned by deadly argument.
The holly and the ivy are suffering and pain,
A world to die in, though there's nothing to gain.
The Christmas tree is a family split in two,
They must kill brother, sister, what can they do?
But Christmas there is still a time of giving,
They give each other death, misery, and stop living.
Christmas ribbons cover gifts of death as well,
They are the deadly attractions that appeal to Hell.
War is ripping countries, families, worlds apart,
Is this the Christmas spirit that's close to your heart?
The Christmas cracker are the mines left behind,
They kill innocent children, but here we don't mind.
Are you prepared to let this continuously continue?
Will you sit back and say "Merry Christmas"? What'll you do?
The Christmas cake there is cruel and does kill,
Does this seem right to you? Life's going downhill!
The Christmas spirit is kill and be killed killing,
They're not freeing, they're murdering and imprisoning.
The Christmas joy can only be felt when dead,
For how can you be happy with murder in your head?
Christmas comes once a year here, but over there,
The Christmas murder happens everyday, always, everywhere.
Christmas parties are battles, death and fights;
They're full of death's noise, there's no 'silent night'.
Joy to the world, for them, death will come.
Is this the Christmas carol that you will hum?
Try and help those who'll never know peace,
And pray that at least at Christmas, war will cease.