Once more the baubles…


So packed away once more, Christmas
The tree to be recycled
You do that don’t you!

Very soon, just as you put away the baubles and lights
That long awaited winter snow finally arrives.
How very much nicer they’d have looked in the snow.

Not long after the Chinese New Year
Near the end of January it is this year
A young man’s fancy, if not already
Turns to thoughts of lust, sorry, love
And as soon as you can say ‘In like Flint’
We have just the thing, St. Valentine’s Day
To help him in his quest.
Such times can leave the mouth quite parched.
But one can only hope of course
He didn’t over do it on Pancake Day
And that he is fit to celebrate, forgetting at his peril
Ah! Mothering Sunday in the third month of March.

And then of course there’s Will Shakespeare’s Day
On April Twenty-third
Not forgetting Ramadan and then Father’s Day
Would really be absurd.
Then various solstice, equinox and even Yom Kippur
He’s free then up to Halloween,
Then Guy Fawkes, the not so pure.

Settling back then, Remembrance Day
And we’re back in the winter once again
For after Diwali and Advent
It’s back to Christmas my friend.

So out with the lights and on with the show
It’s happening all over again
But this time put the lights in the cupboard
The loft is for much younger men.

©Joe Wilson – Once more the baubles…2016

Spare a thought…

School has broken up now
Their nativity plays all ended
It’s time to get out that stocking
That every year gets mended.

The fridges and larders are bursting
With food for the Christmas table
As we celebrate again this year
The miracle in that far away stable.

But spare a thought for the less well-fed
As you eat your well-earned dinner
For while you’re gaining unwanted fat
In poverty people get thinner.

Huddled in rags and blankets for warmth
In a doss-house in a back street somewhere
The people who live in Dead End Street
Will miss out on Christmas Fayre.

It isn’t your fault, nor oft even theirs
It’s simply the way some things are
But just a few pence for a coffee
Shows kindness can travel quite far.

©Joe Wilson – Spare a thought…2015

Little Tim and your missing toy…


The sleigh was loaded and ready
Except for one present – for you
The elves had been searching, high and low
And they just didn’t know quite what to do.

Santa was dressed in his finest red
Ho ho ho, all nicely warmed through
But he just couldn’t leave any presents behind
Well! It’s just not what Santa would do.

They looked again in the cellar
They searched in the workshop once more
Soon the time was getting dangerously near
When Santa must head for the door.

Just then there was a cry ‘YIPPEE’
A wondrous cry of joy
Tim, the smallest of the elves
Had found your Christmas toy.

O Little Tim, you clever elf
You’ve really saved the day
And if you’d care to join me
You can help me in the sleigh.

But Little Tim had vanished
From him there was no peep
T’was a happy Santa who found him
In his little elf cot, fast asleep.

©Joe Wilson – Little Tim and your lost toy…2015

Christmas & Christmas without

The following two poems are from a very dear friend of mine who wishes to publish them anonymously for the time being. I am happy to abide by that wish, but I commend them to you as I think they are very good work.  JW




The saddest time of the year
The darkest days and longest nights
The loudest gales and wettest rain
The time for sleeping, not for growing
The time for waiting, downing tools
For wrapping up and battening down
For thinking what the year has been
For planning a future yet unseen
For calling friends to wish them well
Welcoming them in against the chill
For lighting lamps and fires too
For kindling old friendships anew
The time for family wars to cease
To get together for once in peace
To mend our differences for a day
And maybe find another way
To think about the coming year
To think of growing and becoming
Of being stronger, surer, clearer
To think of kindness and forgiveness
To better understand and care
To think of spring around the corner
Of energy and new laid plans
So making of those darkest days
Time to take stock, to rest, revive
To make acquaintance old with new
To seek the light amongst the darkness
Celebrate, give gifts, keep faith
Time to remember times gone past
It comes just once a year this chance
This special time, this festival.
So let us make the most of it
And ring out the bells, this Christmas.


Christmas without

The first Christmas without
Some one you loved
The first light in the darkness
The star that led the three kings on
The frosty brightness.
The spangled lights on people’s trees
Their laughter abounds
Their fires sparkle and glow
Their glasses filled with good cheer
And outside you know
You stand and stare
Do not go near.
No room at the inn today
And slowly silently
You turn away
And walk on to an empty place.
No tree or decorations here
Just solitude and peace
Deep peace of Christmas time
And no thoughts of release.
And then O wondrous night
O what is this you hear
A babble of voices loud
A knock at the door
And outside a crowd
Of friendly faces bearing gifts
Wanting to take you by the hand
In they come and make it home
A tree and lights and things to eat
How did they know to come?
They knew because they know you
Love and care and show you
They’ve come to worship all the way
They felt the Christmas spirit
They knew it was a special day
And so they draw you into joy.
Be not alone this Christmas time
Awake with friends and loudly sing
For all to hear your voices clear
Glory to the new-born king.

1914 – It’ll Be Over By Christmas


His mate sent a letter to his girl back at home
All the houses in their road put out flags
They were led to believe that the war wouldn’t last
By Christmas they’d be back at home smoking fags.

But it wasn’t so, he was still there on Christmas Day
With others just like him who were terrified
He’d heard they’d played footie somewhere miles away
But they carried on shooting and more men died.

He’d not really known how much a man could hate mud
But when it got in your food, then your eyes
And when you slept in it, and lived in it day after day
When men died in it their blood made dark dyes.

And the deafening noise of the guns just kept on
Till his eardrums had burst and made him deaf
The noise carried on like a dull thumping sound
He’d have run, but he’d got no run left.

All around him his friends were all dying
His mate with the letter had now gone
From the hundreds who’d been in the trench yesterday
Of the twenty-nine left, he was one.

What was this madness, again his heart cried
These men he must kill and for why
He couldn’t understand why the generals back home
Sent here all these young men just to die.

Then a round hit him just under his rib-cage
And the blood that oozed out was dark red
There was no medic nor anyone near him
So he bled out on his own till he was dead.

So another man lay in the mud dying
Still the reasons of why would remain
He just knew that those back at home waiting
Would get the sad telegram of pain.


One in a group of poems recognising the centenary of WWI