Ahh Christmas. As it was, as it is, as it never will be again.


When the Child was born...

The evergreen tree bedecked with baubles
The spirit of joy despite global troubles
Brightly wrapped gifts we give with such pleasure
Signify the three kings and their sacred treasure

A feast on the table for all to enjoy
Promises of Santa for the girl or the boy
Early to bed in the hope that he comes
Stroking their noses or sucking their thumbs

Wreaths made of holly, the meaning now lost
The Robin now starving, dies in the frost
Nativity scenes that mean nothing today
Festivals of religion just get in our way

God is the dollar we worship all year
Christmas is the time when its angels appear
Dressed in their wings of the corporate kind
Urging we spend more on the tat that they find

Christmas has gone let the party begin
Peace and goodwill has been lost from within
Death and destruction is the gift now well worn
Celebrating the day when that CHILD was born







Poetry by Liam The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 40 times
Written on 2024-12-21 at 11:35

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Can it ever be recaptured? I think I've tried, but without little children to fire the spirit, and a change of attitude to 'plenty', I fear it is gone for good. Perhaps we need something new?
Well written. Blessings, Allen
2024-12-21


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh wow, now that has given a full-blown treatise on my little snippet! How true and how sad in many ways and makes me wonder where it will all go to, the tradition and the changes. Your poem encourages reflection on our core values and the ways in which we can restore genuine meaning to our celebrations.
2024-12-21