Merry Christmas

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Just wishing everyone a Merry Christmas

From our house…to yours.

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Christmas Past

christmas pudding 008

e04037About aged six in one state-run children’s home
my sister and I went to a huge Christmas party.
It seemed we were late and there were hundreds of kids
(probably about 50)
all seated at joined rows of tables
wearing party hats, shouting, laughing
eating bowls of jelly, trifle and cake.

Suddenly a man arrived, I had never seen before
his name was Father Christmas
(some call him Santa Claus)
and, I thought what he did was magic.

Before Christmas day I walked into the big kitchen
and several grown ups were busy, busy, busy
baking, making an abnormal amount of bunches of things
and, I had never smelled such delicious food before
in all my life.

Some were making sausage rolls
(sausages in pastry)
someone else, sweet-mince pies
another was putting icing onto a
perfectly square Christmas cake
(icing left to dangle from the spout
until it hit just the right spot)

and, in the middle of all the chaos there was
a table and a woman I didn’t know had the
biggest mixing bowl I think I’ve ever seen.

“You want to mix it a little dearie?”
She saw me looking.
“What is it?” I asked, wide eyed.
“It’s going to be a Christmas pudding darlin’.
‘ere…have a little taste.”

My tongue danced across the offered clean spoon
and its content disappeared way too soon.
I tried to stir the mix but, it was so
thick it wouldn’t budge
she gave out a huge belly laugh and said
“This pudding will have some magic in it
maybe you’ll find some on Christmas day.”
I didn’t know what she meant, but, I went on my way.

When it finally arrived, the kids and I were quite stuffed on
all that lavish food but, even to this day
I remember her laugh, her mixing and the magic
as I found a silver sixpence in the pudding
she had made.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

In the 1960’s in England it was still traditional for everything to be baked at home and not shop bought ready made. The Christmas Puddings made at home each had several silver sixpences or, silver threepenny pieces in them, and the kids were all warned to really be careful when they ate their puddings….lol

It was the first Christmas I truly remember  knowing it was Christmas.

Shared with Poetry Jam Foods of the season. Great prompt Mary!
Three Word Wednesday CCCV11 Abnormal. Dangle. Lavish

O, Christmas Tree

004Each year they take me apart
lay me in a box
hide the box away under the stairs
forget about me
until it’s ‘that time’
to bring me out again
box, a bit more battered
still smelling sweet from the
pine car freshener they
thought to pin inside
my deepest branches.

They take me out piece by piece
lay me on the floor
in colour coded piles

this bits going here
that bit going there
parts of me growing now
a little worse for wear
but,
I’m still not doing badly
for an artificial tree
and if you don’t believe
then

take a look at me

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

 

We put the tree up today and unpacked some of the stuffed Christmas toys and things. More to do but we. and even poor Tim had, had enough for one day.
The tree has been going now for about 15 years. Each year Chloe has gone from adding one unbreakable ornament as a toddler to now helping put the whole thing up, which usually takes us hours…lol

Shared with dVerse Poets Poetics: First person narrative

A World of Peace

resized_wirhj4She lays there numb
feelings as jagged as cutting winds.
How long has it been since
she felt, anything…
…she doesn’t know or care.

Snow flakes touch her hair
her lashes
kiss her nose, her lips.

She’s fallen from the highest point
to the lowest of the low
and if she ever had a song in her heart
it no longer remembers its tune.

The essence of joy forgotten
on streets without a name
each sidewalk she trekked in the end
didn’t matter, they all look the same.

Completely unaware she’s given up
surrendered all that she is to
the cosmic love
her un-uttered prayer is heard
across silent airwaves
and soon a tower of strength
will arrive
ignoring all the track marks
and the scars of life
not caring at all that she is
damaged goods
for, she is beauty unveiled
asleep now beneath the moon
in a world of peace.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

* Ella asked us to write something along the lines of Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’ but to end it on a happy note. Well, not everyone has a Happy Christmas and, I wanted to show how the homeless don’t find it such a wonderful time. But, I did end this happy (I think) because the girl found a happy release from her suffering.

The image is from Google images. The sad thing is, there are thousands of them.

Shared with Poets United Wonder Wednesday #12 Scrooge

Santa

Wood stove casting shadows over the living room. 5am she creeps into my room and whispers: “Santa’s been!”
“How do you know?”

“He ate the milk and cookies.”

“That’s why we leave them.”

“Yes but, I think he ate too much because he fell asleep on the couch. (Sobbing) What about all the other kids?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In our old house we used to have a fabulous wood stove with a glass door. Filled with logs before bedtime it would burn all night and the flames would light up the length of the long living room, there was just enough glow to see in the dark.
Chloe was aged 9, still half believed in Santa and, it was our first Christmas without her mom. We always told her if she woke up early she could have her stocking and they were always laid out on the couch. My stocking was red with a white trim around the open end, a bit like Santa’s hat.
Chloe woke up early and creeping around in the dark she’d seen the milk and cookies on the kitchen table gone, crumbs left and what was left of a carrot with teeth marks (for Rudolph) and, creeping around in the living room in the dark, she’d seen the hat at the end of the couch and had mistaken it for Santa’s head and the additional presents on the couch for his bulky body.
She was so upset to think he’d fallen asleep on our couch and all the other kids wouldn’t get their presents she cried…. haha…
Sometimes kids thoughts and what they say are just so precious and, priceless. I’ve always described myself as, growing up with Chloe.

Shared with G-Man’s Friday Flash 55

Faith Hope and Love

It was a small gathering of
those who’d come from far and wide
with the belief of oft-spoken prophecy.

Traveling both night and day
a star in darkness to light their way.

Hopes, rising
they ignored the occasional disgruntled rumple
from Roman soldiers who wanted to provoke
and cajole, keeping their mood light
festive.

They dreamed of new beginnings
the new dawn of a new age
when a new-born would bring
with Him the greatest gift

For, it was promised that he would
teach them all how to live through
faith, hope, and love.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

And, the greatest of these is Love. (1 Corinthians 13:13)

Shared with Three Word Wednesday #CCL1
Theme Thursday #Gift

The Three Kings

Their loads were heavy. It was no game there in the desert. None would dare lag too far behind for fear they’d happen to soon find themselves deep in sand and hence, deep in trouble. They had traveled through some hostile states and some others where, if luck was in, a kindly citizen or two might feed them and offer a night’s respite in exchange for an exciting tale. They each told these new friends of the sights they had seen which (they said) had seemed to fly to them upon the wings of a dream. They spoke of a love that would soon travel the earth and of the purple of kings and of all this (they said) would begin with the birth of a new baby boy due to be born this very year.

This story needs no explanation mind you, I have read quite a few enlightening articles over many years now that state The Three Kings’ were actually Magi 

Shared with The Sunday Whirl #35