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Poem for the Day

Posted: 31 December 2014

As this will be my last Poem for the Day, for a while anyway, I can think of no better with which to end. I hope that you all have a very happy and peaceful New Year.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind? ...
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowan fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fitt,
Sin' auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right gude-willie-waught,
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Auld Lang Syne
Robert Burns

Poem for the Day

Posted: 30 December 2014

Dear Auntie
Oh, what a nice jumper
I've always adored powder blue...
and fancy you thinking of
orange and pink
for the stripes
how clever of you!

Dear Uncle
The soap is
terrific
So
useful
and such a kind thought and
how did you guess that
I'd just used the last of
the soap that last Christmas brought.

Dear Gran
Many thanks for the hankies
Now I really can't wait for the flu
and the daisies embroidered
in red round the 'M'
for Michael
how
thoughtful of you!

Dear Cousin
What socks!
and the same sort you wear
so you must be
the last word in style
and I'm certain you're right that the
luminous green
will make me stand out a mile.

Dear Sister
I quite understand your concern
it's a risk sending jam in the post
But I think I've pulled out
all the big bits
of glass
so it won't taste too sharp
spread on toast.

Dear Grandad
Don't fret
I'm delighted
So don't think your gift will
offend
I'm not at all hurt
that you gave up this year
and just sent me
a fiver
to spend.

Christmas Thank You’s
Mick Gowar

Poem for the Day

Posted: 29 December 2014

While I watch the Christmas blaze
Paint the room with ruddy rays,
Something makes my vision glide...
To the frosty scene outside.

There, to reach a rotting berry,
Toils a thrush,--constrained to very
Dregs of food by sharp distress,
Taking such with thankfulness.

Why, O starving bird, when I
One day's joy would justify,
And put misery out of view,
Do you make me notice you!

The Reminder
Thomas Hardy

Poem for the Day

Posted: 28 December 2014

Who’s that knocking on the window,
Who’s that standing at the door,
What are all those presents...
Laying on the kitchen floor?

Who is the smiling stranger
With hair as white as gin,
What is he doing with the children
And who could have let him in?

Why has he rubies on his fingers,
A cold, cold crown on his head,
Why, when he caws his carol,
Does the salty snow run red?

Why does he ferry my fireside
As a spider on a thread,
His fingers made of fuses
And his tongue of gingerbread?

Why does the world before him
Melt in a million suns,
Why do his yellow, yearning eyes
Burn like saffron buns?

Watch where he comes walking
Out of the Christmas flame,
Dancing, double-talking:

Herod is his name.

Innocents Song
Charles Causley

Poem for the Day

Posted: 27 December 2014

You never saw such a stupid mess,
The government of course, were to blame.
That poor young kid in her shabby dress...
And the old chap with her, it seemed such a shame.

She had the baby in the backyard shed,
It wasn’t very nice, but the best we could do.
Just fancy, a manger for a bed,
I ask you, what’s the world coming to?

We’re sorry they had to have it so rough,
But we had our troubles, too, remember,
As if all the crowds were not enough
The weather was upside-down for December.

There was singing everywhere, lights in the sky
And those drunken shepherds neglecting their sheep
And three weird foreigners in full cry –
You just couldn’t get a good night’s sleep.

Well now they’ve gone, we can all settle down,
There’s room at the inn and the streets are so still
And we’re back to normal in our little town
That nobody’s heard of, or ever will.

And though the world’s full of people like those,
I think of them sometimes, especially her,
And one can't help wondering…though I don’t suppose
Anyone will ever know who they were.

Never Again
Harri Webb

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