Category Archives: Christmas

The Feast of Christmas

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The Feast of Christmas is a short poem about being grateful to Jesus for both big things and little things.

The Feast of Christmas

This is a feast to celebrate, to celebrate the best
So raise a glass of mulled wine and a slice of turkey breast
Let’s drink to our salvation, better than we ever dreamed
And eat those pigs in blankets, now that bacon’s been redeemed

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Gingerbread Nativity: Soul food

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Santactus

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In Tesco at the moment, you can buy a real cactus dressed as Father Christmas. A photo of my Santa Cactus (Santactus) featured at the end of a poem posted earlier this week.

I named it Santactus then realised that this sounded like the name of some old Roman god. When all the other fleeting, festive frivolities have passed away, this cactus will remain. Standing tall.

Santactus

Tinsel falls from trees once trim
Baubles shatter, lights grow dim
Candles lie in waxy heaps but

Santactus irrecusably remains

Green wreaths rot in glittering piles
The neon reindeer lose their smiles
Robins lie in bloodstained heaps but

Santactus irrefutably remains

Christmas jumpers now unravel
Sleighs decay, unfit for travel
Snowmen lie in melted heaps but

Santactus irreducibly remains

Wrapping paper patterns fade
Handcrafted Christmas cards degrade
Ribbons lie in tangled heaps but

Santactus irrepressibly remains

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Ironically, Santactus actually died shortly after the completion of this poem. But another will rise.

Chocolate Sprouts

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One of the most exciting parts of Christmas Eve is hanging up the stockings! While it’s impossible to predict exactly what Father Christmas will place in them, there are certain things that appear each and every year.

One of these things, in my house at least, is a bag of chocolate sprouts. Yes, chocolate sprouts. Like chocolate coins, but sprouts. It’s not complicated.

In Chocolate Sprouts, the two breeds of sprouts (brussels and chocolate) are engaged in a violent war.

Chocolate Sprouts

Chocolate sprouts are breaking free
Sneering as they look at me
Chocolate sprouts are breaking loose
Oh, what carnage they produce

Chocolate sprouts are breaking in
See the Brussels siege begin
Chocolate sprouts are breaking through
Howling as they come for you

Chocolate sprouts are breaking up
Lighting candles as they sup
Chocolate sprouts are breaking out
Snorting as they charge about

Chocolate sprouts are breaking off
Civil War! The Brussels scoff
Chocolate sprouts are breaking down
Melting into pools of brown

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The Brussels Sprouts Boil With Anger

Who Art In Lapland

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It’s nearly Christmas! This is my absolute favourite time of the year! I love so much about Christmas. The music, the decorations, the trees, the presents! It’s all so wonderful but, if I’m totally honest, it can also be a huge distraction from what Christmas actually is. The true meaning of Christmas is not presents, we all know that. It’s not family and friends (despite what Disney might tell you). It’s not even joy and peace in an abstract sense.

Don’t get me wrong, that stuff’s great and I buy into it year after year and enjoy it immensely. But let’s not faff around with all this ‘Christmas is about family’ nonsense. Christmas is about Christ. Hence the ‘Christ’ in Christmas. God became a person. That’s pretty, kinda,  ridiculously exciting.

This poem is about rampant commercialism, the deification of Santa, and the twisted works-gospel of modern day Christmas. I’m so edgy.

Who Art In Lapland

Santa won’t love me
If I don’t buy presents
For all my friends and family
If I don’t buy them now

Santa won’t love me
If I don’t buy gifts
He knows if I’ve been bad or good
It’s written on his brow

Santa won’t love me
If I don’t buy offerings
And lay them on the alter
Of the great Cash Cow

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HAIL SANTACTUS

It’s Christmas

It's Christmas

It’s important to remember that not everybody has a great time at Christmas. That being said, Christmas Day can be a wonderful opportunity to forget about your worries for a day and eat lots of food.

It’s Christmas

Girl, it’s Christmas
Put a smile upon your face
There are people
Celebrating out in space

If they love it
Who are we to wear a frown?
Girl, it’s Christmas
Grab a drink and settle down

Even he's happy, and he has heart problems

Even he’s happy, and he has heart problems

Christmas Ghost

Christmas Ghost

There’s nothing like a good Christmas ghost story. The BBC usually puts one on and there’s always the ultimate classic that is Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol! Something about the creepiness of ghosts really fits with the season. Maybe it’s the cold, dark evenings that make them feel so appropriate, or maybe they’re just the perfect counterpart to the sickly sweet jolliness of everything else going on!

Christmas Ghost

A creepy, spooky Christmas ghost
A Winter wraith, an evil host
The ones that moan
And scream and groan
Those are the ones I fear the most

An eery, dreary Christmas ghoul
An icy demon, cold and cruel
The ones that howl
And yell and scowl
I’m shaking like a Christmas fool

The scariest part of Christmas is how broke I am

The scariest part of Christmas is how broke I am

Snow

Snow

It’s that awkward time of year here in Birmingham where it’s bitterly bitterly cold (the kind of cold when you feel like your eyes will shatter) but it still won’t snow! I love Winter, but I’d rather not have to take the worst of Winter without also getting the best of it! Where is my snow? I don’t need enough to make a snowman. I don’t even need enough to make a snowball. I just need enough to spin around dramatically in. That’s all I ask of you Winter, that’s all I ask!

Snow

Snow is falling, watch it dance!
The season’s supreme circumstance
We bear the cold, the damp, the mold
Concealed in hats and gloves we prance

The snow has settled, feel it crunch!
A light and luscious liquid lunch
It’s texture’s sweet, beneath my feet
We’ve never been a brighter bunch

And now it’s melted, hear it slush!
A brown and murky, mulchy mush
Nobody stops, to hold the slops
We’re back to our incessant rush

The snow’s all gone, remember snow?
A glint as greenish grasses grow
Amnesiac, we want it back
And so the year will always go

Let it faux, let it faux, let it faux

Let it faux, let it faux, let it faux