Friday Poem #155: That’s Christmas

Good evening, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

So, how was your Christmas? I hope it was a good one for you. Mine was very nice – this year I managed to not eat too much at any one time, my success largely being down to the fact I preferred to “graze” almost constantly throughout the day. ‘Little and very, very often’ is my top tip for not over eating 🙂

I went to Midnight Mass this year, at my local Church of England Church. I’m Catholic by denomination (doesn’t that term only refer to coins or money?), but wasn’t bothered by the fact that the Church I was in wasn’t a Catholic one. In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered where I was – if there was a Synagogue or a Mosque I think I would have been equally happy to go there. You see, whilst I enjoy the Midnight Mass and Carols and all that, Church for me is a place where I go for personal reflection and prayer. I think I’d be right in saying that most religions around the world have places of worship that are quiet and calm places where a person can come to and escape the hubbub of life, and have some quiet moments to speak to his or her god, and reflect on their own existence. I personally, believe that I could go to a Mosque or Synagogue and enjoy the calm and peace there and still speak to my God and say my prayers and reflect, just as much as I could in my local Church.

That being said, I only go to Church once a year as I carry my belief with me.

Anyway, on to this week’s Poem. As the title suggests, this week’s poem is my take on Christmas. I always feel a bit down after Christmas day, purely because that is the longest time until it will be Christmas again, and generally, Christmas is a great time. We all have our ups and downs, but Christmas is a lovely time of year.

That’s Christmas

Christmas is done;
There’s still loads of Turkey.
Red Cabbage and Sprouts
Make us farty and burpy
We’re posing like models
In the new clothes that we got:
Didn’t need to see Grandma
Show her new pants and socks.
The front door’s always open
Letting the wind and rain in
Perpetually bombarded
By visits from Friends and our Kin.
Old memories are shared
And new ones are made.
How we laughed when Aunt Doris
Got “Brokeback Mountain” in Charades!
The Christmas tree’s dropping needles
Cos it hasn’t been watered enough
But we’re grazing on Quality Street
So can’t really be fussed.
It’s mince pies for breakfast
Satsuma and Crisps for lunch
And Tea will be Turkey Sandwiches
For at least the next month.
There’s that period of limbo
Between Christmas and new year
Where it’s all a bit quiet
And a little bit weird

We don’t really know what we are doing,

We lose track of days
Still only wearing our new gear
Whilst we continue to graze.
And of course we make promises
To ourselves and to others
Short lived New Years resolutions
That fade when we just can’t be bothered.
There’s shed loads on the TV
And yet nothing to watch.
But we couldn’t see anyway
Being drunk on Wine, Beer or Scotch
‘Cos the drinkings all part of it:
It’s almost tradition
To start drinking at 7am
Like you’re on a mission
The food and the drink, they are soothing
Cutting out all the noise – almost numbing:
Though in truth, the after effects
Really do test your plumbing.
But it’s all part of the celebration
The laughter, the noise, the food and the wine
It’s how we get together
To celebrate Christmas time.

Friday Poem #154: Merry Christmas

Good evening, good morning, or good afternoon wherever in the world you are, and whenever you are reading this.

Christmas is almost upon us once again – it seems only moments ago that it was last Christmas. Where does the time go?

I hope that if you are celebrating Christmas this year, that the preparations have not, or are not too stressful for you. Similarly, if you do not observe Christmas, I hope that this time of year is a peaceful and happy one for you.

Last weekend we bought our Christmas tree and put it up, and decorated it and our home. I now feel more festive and feel almost ready for Christmas. And it was with that in mind that I wrote this week’s Friday Poem.

Here it is – I hope you like it.

Merry Christmas

Take down the tinsel, Pack the decorations away Return the emergency chairs to where you got them Until next Christmas day. Remove the tree from its place And then look at the void Remembering the excitement and laughter The fun, smiles and joy. Finish off all those Chocolates Christmas cake and mince pies No more quality street for breakfast As we return to normal life. Take one more look through the Cards Received from family and friends And then ask yourself, truly: Does the goodwill have to end? Is it only at Christmas that our thoughts turn to others? Can we not continue to reach out To our sisters and brothers? A week after Christmas is finished We think about the new year And all of a sudden All those promises appear But why then? Why only then? What’s wrong with the other eleven months? Why do we wait until December And try to do all our goodwill at once? A dog is not just for Christmas Neither is homelessness. Too many people go all year long Trying to make ends meet with less. Inequality is constant. Hatred lives in every season. We can do more for each other We don’t need a festive reason And yes it is easy to say And much harder to do Though not really that much harder When you consider the truth. I failed to do good things this year As much as I could I was far more self centred Than perhaps I should. But I had time to do good things And it doesn’t take a lot To think about other people, To not walk past, and instead stop. I can’t change the world: That’s an impossible task But I can spread goodwill In my own little way And that’s all anyone can ask. I wish you a merry christmas With laughter and joy Whether it’s your very first christmas Or whether you’re too old for toys. And I don’t care who you voted for Or how much money you earn Time marches for all of us And as another year turns I will try to be better At existing on this fragile earth Try to see more people for who they are Not their material worth. Love is a candle That shines really bright So let’s keep the flame burning And keep sharing the light. I hope this time of year,  whether you celebrate Christmas or not, is spent with those people who mean the most to you.

Friday Poem #153: Never Joseph

Hello and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

Christmas is almost upon us. Are you ready? I’m fairly sure that in our house we almost have everything in hand – which probably means that we are nowhere near ready, but haven’t realised it yet.

An integral part of Christmas is the Nativity Play. Up and down the country, school children are having tea towels and tinsel wrapped around their heads and perform this age old play in front of their parents and teachers – all who are sitting on seats far too small for the adult backside. It’s a well established tradition that is truly loved – largely for the cuteness of the actors, and the rubbishness of the scripts.

This week’s Poem is all about my dissapointing experiences with Nativity Plays – I never got any good parts, once walked on in my shoes, and never got the opportunity to hold centre stage.

Not that I’m bitter about it.

Anyway, here is the poem. I hope you like it.

Never Joseph

I never got to play Joseph In the nativity at School.:
I once wandered on in my black footwear
And made myself look a fool.
One year I was a sheep
Which came as quite a shock:
Though I didn’t complain much
And just followed the flock.
Never one of the Wise men,
Didn’t take charge of the Inn.
Couldn’t tell anyone there was a stable to stay in.
Too tall for a shepherd
Just a background stranger
There was no part as a carpenter
Selling a discount Manger.
I was too heavy to be lifted
As the star heaven sent
I couldn’t spell Myrrh
Or pronounce Frankincense.
Destined to be an extra –
At the back with no speaking part
Not in the heavenly throng
Never a Cherub with harp.
To just mill about silent
Was the best I could expect:
Even in that one Year
When Bethlehem had a vet
When the Donkey got Asthma
And the Sheep Foot and Mouth
I could have acted the Vet beautifully
But was never allowed.
Too big for the and
Meant I couldn’t be a tree.
Everyone else got a part
Everyone – except me.
So while Mary and Joseph
Centre stage, stole the show
My talent was wasted
Though nobody would know.

Friday Poem#152: Mid-Life Crisis

Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem. Well, I’m back at work this week and back wearing regular footwear. I’ve also got the all clear to drive and walk around more. However, and rather oddly I thought I’ve been advised not to go back to swimming, as pushing off the wall with my feet might put to much strain on the metal plate and risk damaging the new bone growth at the fusion site. For those of you who are interested, here are the x-rays they took of my feet:

As you can see, I’m now part machine and will be setting off alarms in Airports whenever I fly.

But enough of that, on to this week’s Friday poem. Thus poem was born out of my reaction to recently being told that I looked 56. I’m not 56 and was shocked to be taken for being 8 years older than I am. I know what happened though – it’s my beard: It does age me – as does the fact that I’m old.

So, here’s the poem. I hope you like it

Mid-Life Crisis

I think I’m having a mid life crisis.

I’m probably  too old to be recruited by ISIS.

And if I was, I couldn’t go to train in a Syrian Camp

What with my arthritis and tendency to suffer with cramp.

I’m no good to anyone – that’s how I’m feeling

I keep clacking my head on life’s low ceiling.

So I’m looking at sports cars or perhaps a speed boat

Just to compensate for being a brittle old goat.

It’s not that I’m unhappy in life – just a bit disconcerted

That I can’t get up or sit down without some part of me hurting.

Time marches relentless – it doesn’t care who I am

Doesn’t care I’m afraid of the title “Middle-aged man”

So I’ll dust off my Speedos and go down to the coast

Buy shiny new kitchen stuff and eat my body weight in toast.

Then  go to the Gym every day – for a week or two

Until I realise this is too hard to do.

I guess there’s no point really in fighting;

Middle age isn’t cured by a life more exciting.

Rather than long for my youth in abject misery

I should bask in the glory that is lovely old me.

So take a look at my wrinkles and my locks of grey hair

Every imperfection is a testament to a life full of care.

I have loved, lost, and laughed with no defined life plan

And I wouldn’t want to be anything  other than who I am 

Still looking for that Christmas Gift? Why not give the gift of Poetry – my books, The Friday poems – Volumes one and Two are available to buy from Amazon – simply search for “The Friday Poems”

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  The Friday Poems Vol. 1

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  The Friday poems Vol. 2