Carols from the Christmas Crow

 

—Poetry by Lynn White, 

Blaenau Ffestiniog, North Wales

—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain

 

 

 

FATHER CHRISTMAS


I was so excited.
It was nearly Christmas
and I was going to meet
Father Christmas himself.

I was so excited,
wearing my best coat and bonnet,
hopping from one foot to the other
in the long queue of children
waiting with their mums
to be allowed into Santa’s Grotto.

I was so excited.
We were nearly there.
I could see the grotto
with its tinsel and fairy lights
twinkling.
I was going to sit on his knee
and have my picture taken,
and that was in an age when
photographs were even rarer
than Christmases…

I was so excited.
There were the elves…
But wait…
they were cardboard.
Where were the real elves,
the magic ones,
why weren’t they there?
“They’re much too busy,”
my mum said.
“But Father Christmas will be real.”

We paid our money
and there he was.
He really was.
I couldn’t wait to climb on his knee
and examine his beard.
I’d never seen a beard before.
But he was very tetchy when I pulled at it
and told me to stop.
Then it went lop-sided
and I realised
it was a false beard
and I told him so, angrily.
He put it back.
“Stop thy wriggling,” he said.
“You’re not the real one,
I don’t want to sit on your knee.”

Flash went the camera.

And outside there was a queue of children
waiting
to be addressed.
Hands on hips.
“He’s not the real one.
He’s got a false beard.
He’s not magic at all,
they’re cheating you!”
It’s a swizz!
Then the store manager came…

I was so excited.



(prev. pub. by Silver Birch Press,
Me As A Child Series, May 2015)

 

 

 

 

 

CHRISTMAS TREE


Trimming the tree was a Christmas Eve ritual
in my family.
Each year my cousin would come to help my mum.
They would carefully take the glass baubles from the box
that used to hold her big doll called Topsy.
Then they would put them all in their special place
in my family.
“No the elephant doesn’t go there,
that’s where the peacock should be
and the Christmas pudding goes above.”
Everything had its place on the Christmas tree
in my family.

There were shiny miniature crackers never to be pulled,
and curly, coloured candles never to be lit, for economy.
No tinsel was allowed, for that was cheating.
Only baubles to cover the tree, hiding the green.
The glass baubles had belonged to my cousin,
so had the tree. And earlier, to her mother and granny,
all in my family.
The only family to fall out over trimming a tree,
my cousin’s husband used to say with some truth,
as every year the arguments as to which
bauble should go where were replayed
in my family.

So much stress over trimming a Christmas tree,
that I think they drank Santa’s sherry!
They must have needed it!
And ate his mince pies,
after trimming the tree
in my family.


(prev. pub. in Me In The Holidays Series
by Silver Birch Press, December 2015)

 

 

 

 

CHRISTMAS CROW

We watched the crow with fascination
as it tap-tapped on the window pane,
saw its black eyes gleaming,
its wet feathers shining
in the moonlight.
And we understood.

We understood that it wanted to join us,
to perch amongst the baubles
on our shining tree
to share our fireside warmth
on Christmas Eve
and escape
the cold winter rain.

We heard it promise
to sing for us
We opened the window
and let it in.
It crowed a Christmas carol.


(prev. pub. in Third Wednesday Magazine,
Winter 2021)

 

 

 

 

 

TALKING TURKEY

There is a rumour going around
as rumours do
in this community.
It is said
that a celebration is being planned
by humans.
Specifically
by those humans who feed and pet us.
It is being said
that we will be invited
to join them,
that we will be a part,
an important part
of the celebration.
So now we are waiting
wondering
what role we shall play,
wondering
if we will get drunk,
wondering
if we will enjoy it all
as much as our humans will enjoy
our presence.


(prev. pub. in The Drabble, October 2022)

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.

—Shirley Temple

____________________

Lynn White brings us tales of Christmas today, and our thanks to her for those! Find Lynn at: https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/Lynn-White-Poetry-1603675983213077/. May Santa find all of you tonight, because of course he is not a fraud, as we children everywhere know…

____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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