Christmas Poems

Happy Christmas to all Poetry Space Supporters and everyone who reads this today.

I don't want to die at Christmas

I don't want to die at Christmas
cheated of that warm turkey sandwich
on the eve of day.
I don't want to miss the glint in your eye
as you unwrap the surprise
of a hint remembered.
I don't want to rob Santa of his jolly jaunt
and leave a gift of tears instead
wrapping the day in melancholly
and the promise of earth to earth....
I don't want to eclipse the word made flesh
by flesh unmaking itself
in the denial of breath.
But if I die
near the day of days
wrap me in tinsel and coloured paper.
Leave me under a tree
and sing carols by lamplight:
'Joy to the world',
'Come and join the celebration',
'See amid the winter snow',
and dance,
let there be dancing.
And place the last advent candle
at my feet
to warm
my
sole.

© Keith Wallis

Christmas Turkey

We purchase the ginormous, scraped-out bird

and garage it until Ovening Eve.

It has to be outsized with so many two-day,

Christmas mouths to feed; Ten, including

the in-laws, my mum, the unmarried uncle

and his silent ‘friend’.  Takes two of us to cradle

the consecrated carcass, steam-screaming,

from sacristy to linen, carving altar.   

Usually, the kids religiously take turns to gnaw upon

the weekend legs; so we concoct another Yule-tide lie;

calling it Custom to offer limbs, wings and all things

bony to visiting elders with teeth enough to gnaw.

“I likes a bit of breast m’self,” I boast, winking at

Her spooning out the veg and trimmings and blushing;

while watching our three wince at even the tiniest helpings

of sprouts and parsnips, sage and stuffing.

After all this preparation, dressing, cooking, carving 

and flimsy, paper-hatted, out-of-character jollity   

I know our three would be more than Christmas happy

if only they served bread and cranberry sauce at K.F.C. 

© Mike Lee
 

SILENT NIGHT

The sun could not destroy

the cold season of winter nights

neither, could it conceal the Robin

from the blooming roses

and candle lights,

frosty flowers and singing birds.

The stars could not dim its flare

of shooting wishes and dancing array

nor the moon, dye its boon

in a natural sky, of Jesus’ birth.

Children find peace at the country-yard

dreaming morning Zebras with magical spice of Santa’s gifts

and shed every little joy ‘till eternity.

A scene in my head,

a Christmas ushered, in midnight blue.

© Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah (Ghana)2011