Christmas poems

[Kym]

Howdy all,

I need your help again. I'm helping out with the Christmas entertainment for Toastmasters this year, and they want me to do a Christmas poem. Does anyone know of, or have, a good poem I can use?

Thanks in anticipation,

K.

[william williams]

try this Kym use it if you wish

Xmas greetings

To me mates in far of places
In Somalia or Timbuktu.

That bloke that humps his bluey
In the back of Katherine to.

Or blokes that mind the cattle
Or the sheep at Old Paroo.

Those broken down old miners
And the young ones at it to.

Those truck drivers in the bush
With their dusty mobile rigs

To those welcome entertainers
Trying hard to do their gigs

To those stores keepers
In those towns so far outback

To those people on those stations,
And that lonely digger Jack

I wish you all good tidings
This Xmas, to one and all

Bill Williams 9/12/2009 ©

[Neville Briggs]

G'day Kym, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a short poem called " I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day " you could try googling that, or I have a copy if you're interested.

And Christina Rossetti wrote a poem called " In the Bleak MidWinter"
I have a copy of that also.

An anonymous bush poet wrote " Christmas Cards " it's on page 235 of Jim Haynes'
Book of Australian Popular Rhymed Verse.

[Zondrae]

G'day Kym,

I don't know if this one is too personal but you can use it if you lik.


Christmas Decorations
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 10/07

“Oh! can I help you, Grandma?” I heard our Matilda say.
It’s getting close to Christmas and I find that, in a way,
it’s little ones who give us all the will to carry on
in times when we are weary and our energy is gone.

The time is here. Out comes the tree and ornaments of old
all packed away year after year, such memories they hold.
It takes so long to get them out. Each one holds mem’ries dear
That’s why they’re wrapped so carefully and kept from year to year.

Now this one, I hung as a child, a real treasure true.
It started out as one of six but now it’s one of two.
Its felt has long been faded but I see that little elf
as bright as when I first saw him, still new, on DJs shelf.

And Deep down in the bottom of the trusty storage chest
are some that I no longer need to hang with all the rest.
Some stars we drew and coloured in that year we were so poor,
a time when I thought Santa and his sleigh would pass our door.

Though we had little money we could make do if we planned.
We painted up a kiddies bike that we got seventh hand.
Some brand new stickers made it look, to our small child at least,
just like a famous, really wanted brand they call ‘The Beast’.

Some paper chain around our tree and pop corn on a string.
Remember Christmas celebrates the birth of Christ our king.
Our children were so happy with such simple things back then
some lollies and a picture book, a puzzle and a pen.

I’ve added many ornaments and treasures through the years.
I find that some are wrapped with laughter, some are filled with tears.
There’s just one decoration that I hope I always see,
a happy family gathering around my Christmas tree.

I quickly took some photos as we shared this special day
to add to other Christmas treasures that we pack away.
I hope that one day she’ll look back as Christmases unfold
on Christmas decorations and the memories they hold.

[Zondrae]

or perhaps this one..??? (both of these have been posted before)

Welcome Strangers.
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 12/06

If a stranger came a knocking on your door real late at night
politely asking you if you had a bed
for his wife who was real weary. They were travellers you see
and looking for a place to lay their head.

Their family name is David. They were from the Middle East
and the woman had a scarf over her head.
He looked much older than his wife. She looked like just a girl.
I’m sure she’d followed, silent, as he led.

Then on close examination you can see she is ‘with child’
a further complication you don’t need.
Would you ask them in and sit them down and make a cup of tea
or maybe even offer them a feed?

What if their transportation was a rusty beat up van
with large suspicious bundles in the back.
Do you think you’d close your door to them and bid them “bugger off”
then mumbling “flamin’ migrants” hit the sack?

I wonder would your dreams be filled with stories you have heard,
a census long ago in distant lands
when another Middle Eastern couple sheltered in a barn.
Their baby was delivered to their hands.

No movement sensor halogen to guide them on their way.
A star drew near to lend a little light.
While Angles sang, some scholars came with tribute for the child
and time is counted from that blessed night.

In this our modern, busy world we occupy our time
amassing stuff we seldom wish to share.
Our leaders plant suspicion in us with their stern advice.
We’re told don’t be alarmed but be aware.

What if religion or their dress were different than ours!
Forget about the colour of their skin!
We all live under heaven and we all should thank our God,
the things that are important are within.

Do 'we' Australians offer homes to people in their need.
Do you welcome strangers when you pass them by?
and do your best to lend a hand and make them feel at home.
And now I have to ask myself, do I?

[Vic Jefferies]

G'day Kym, don't know if this will suit the occasion but you can use it if you like:

THE PENALTIES OF AGE

With eager innocent faces and a shy expectant smile,
The children waited in their places to spend a precious while
Upon the crimson knee of the old man on the throne,
To whisper in his ear, to make their wishes known,
But one amongst them there, a little older than the rest,
Indicated that this year he wanted to protest
For when it came his turn to speak, he declared in terms most strong,
“This year I hope you’re listening Santa, cause last year you got it wrong!”

“I asked you for a pony, you left a rocking horse,
And the rifle that I wanted, you left a toy of course!
The computer that I ordered? You left a story book!
Now I’m telling you old fellow, last year’s act was crook!
I mean, your reindeers got the carrots; you scoffed the cake and grog!
Don’t you reckon that entitled me to expect a decent job?”

Now, if you are sure that you are ready, I’ll recite to you my list,
But I want it written down so that not a single item’s missed.
You can scrap the rifle and the pony; I’ve more important things to do!
But I still expect that computer and I’ll have a silver scooter too.
I wouldn’t mind a puppy, but at a pinch I’ll cop a cat.
Are you sure that you are listening are you sure you got all that?

Then the varmint and its mother departed from the store,
But they hadn’t got much farther when another Santa Claus he saw,
Then the little devil said, “Mother, you wait over here!
I want to see this fellow and make sure he’s got it clear!”
But as the holy terror climbed up on is knee, poor Santa made the error
Of asking, “And what would you like from me?”
The kid went off his head; his language scorched the air as he screamed,
“It’s only twenty flaming minutes since I told you ever there!”

Then what happened, at least the story that I’m told,
The boy sacked poor Santa on the grounds he was too old!
So when the boy awoke bright and early Christmas morn
He received the biggest shock he’d ever got,
(Even including the day that he was born)
For there beneath the Christmas tree he found a lonely note
Saying, “Due to age, Santa’s retired from business,
So perhaps you should seek another quote!”

Vic Jefferies

[Maureen K Clifford]

If these are any good to you you are welcome.


TO BENJAMIN FROM GRAN



Hello little Benjamin, it’s nearly Christmas day
and I’m thinking of all the things to you I’d like to say.
Like…how much I love your cuddles when you stay with us a while
just having you here with us makes your grandad and me smile.

You remind me so much of your dad when he was just a boy,
and no doubt you will be quite a lad and bring your parents joy,
both your brother and your sister think you are special too.
I love you all but my heart holds a special place for you.

So Benjamin as you grow strong and tall as young boys do
I hope you will remember all the things that I’ve told you.
Like when you’re climbing up a tree be careful not to fall,
and always be polite, do not fight or swear at all.

And someday I hope that you will my old piano play.
I would really like that, but it’s your choice I should say.
Although I ‘m more than happy to pay for the tuition
if would give me such great pleasure if that dream came to fruition.


Still…no matter what you do, or whoever you become
I hope you know you’ll always have the love of your grand mum,
and as I sit and dream here about presidents and kings
my prayer for you young Benjamin is for the best of everything.


I love you my darling boy.


Maureen Clifford © 12/2009

CHRISTMAS GREETINGS



Christmas time is here again. Good tidings and Good cheer
Christmas carols ringing out to deafen frazzled ears.
The shops with tinsel, silver bells and Christmas lights that flash
are decked to attract shoppers and separate them from their cash.

A mass of Christmas baubles, erupt on every floor
A surfeit of Christmas trivia displayed at every door
We’re overwhelmed with adverts on the radio and TV
All extolling the virtues of shopping here with me.

Just once I’d like to see us all perhaps buy chooks and goats
No presents to wrap, or unneeded gifts on which to gloat
To those not blessed as we are with too much cash and food
A gift more worthy, to the poor, creates a true Christmas mood.

So if you’re searching for a gift for that someone hard to buy for
Presume they have all that they need, give them something to die for.
A gift receipt that tells them on their behalf this year you gave
A chook or goat from Oxfam, perhaps a families life is saved..

The gift gives a Tax benefit for a donation now sent.
A usefull Christmas blessing for the recipient,
For this gift will keep on giving, as in Milk and eggs and cheese
and the true spirit of Christmas will live on with gifts like these.

So perhaps if you make out a list for Santa as some do.
You’ll consider changing your request, this year don’t think of you.
Dear Santa, when you pack your sleigh, don’t bring me socks or books
Take a goat to a poor family and if you’ve room two chooks

Maureen Clifford ©

[David J Delaney]

G'day Kym, I've found this one a good performance poem especially if there are some kiddies in the audience.

Santa’s Aussie Run

When Christmas time comes around, ev’ry body knows
that Santa leaves behind, the north poles winter snows
now on his yearly quest to spread goodwill and cheer
and bringing children gifts — those — who’ve been good all year.

Now Santa’s covered from his head down to his toes
he’s staying warm while trav’ling, icy wind that blows
and while you’re soundly sleeping, tucked inside your bed
He’s getting closer now with Rudolph’s nose bright red.

So through the night he travels with all kinds of toys
till Santa fin’lly reaches Aussie girls and boys
he leaves Australia last, yes! this he’s always done
and loves the time he spends — trav’ling our great nation.

He starts in Northern Territ’ry, then hops to W. A.
then South Australia and Tasmain’ya in his sleigh
now over to Victoria, then to New South Wales
and fin’lly Queensland to the great far north he sails.

Now way up in the tropics chimneys are so rare
or if there is a fireplace, it is left quite bare
so how does Santa leave, your presents by the tree
your house is all locked up, and doesn’t have a chim’ny.

I’d like you all to know, that Santa’s not alone
he has a special Elf, looks like a garden gnome
a wise and clever chap who’s name is Willy Lee
he’s Santa’s fav’rite, with a truly magic key.

Now with Lee’s magic key, he opens any door
and then he helps in placing presents on the floor
there is another reason Santa rides with Lee
it is our little secret, just ‘tween you and me.

See, Santa truly thinks up north here is the best
and on his final drop, looks forward to a rest
so not that far from here, slightly north of Daintree
and now that Lee has gone, Santa sips his lemon tea.

Relaxing by a pool, and glad his job is done
enjoys his time now basking, in the Queensland sun
it’s just a short break, from the freezing cold north pole
he loves our pleasant weather, when he takes a stroll.

In only two short weeks — on the return of Lee
he’ll go back to his home, where it’s often frosty
where Santa has a new list, and he’ll check it twice
he’ll then find out — if you’ve been naughty or been nice.

David J Delaney

Or there is also this one.......

Christmas, I’m over it !

You finally sit exhausted with presents wrapped to go
When a voice in your head screams “No oh! No”
How could it happen, forgetting dear Aunty Maude
... And that single golf ball just wont suit Uncle Claude

Dreading the thought, knowing the battle will be on
Return to the centre and fight the marauding throng
Then stand in the check out queue, forever once again
Avoiding that amorous boy working in isle number ten

Dashing to the car, feeling our Christmas heat
Instantly start sweating from your head down to your feet
Quickly learn the art of driving with one finger
Steering wheels to hot but you know you can’t linger

Now what’s that racket coming from under the bonnet
Certainly doesn’t sound like a beautiful sonnet
In the middle of the driveway, now at a stop
From the air con. The breeze is pumping red hot

Emerging from that oven, stubbing your toe on the gutter
Wanting to scream, but all you can do is mutter
Limp into the house, soaked through from your sweat
Perched in front of the air con, arms outstretched like an egret

Maude can have a card with forty dollars within
This year she can buy, her own bottle of gin
Savouring cold icecream as on the lounge you sit
Thinking to yourself, “yep! Christmas I’m over it!”

David J Delaney

[Robyn]

Hi Kym,
I wrote this one last year, when looking for a poem for our village Carols by Torchlight, bearing in mind it had to be OK to say with littlies in the front row. You are welcome to say as is, but any feedback would be welcome.
Cheers
Robyn

Chocolate Christmas

On Christmas Eve the setting sun threw joyous shades of pink
across the hills, like noses smeared with iridescent zinc.
Expectantly the pillow cases waited for the loot
that Santa would distribute in his oversized red suit.

Now Timmy’s plan was simple, he would lie awake all night,
and softly say to Santa when he wobbled into sight:
"Forget about the scooter, the computer games and all,
forget about the cricket bat, the stumps and leather ball.

Forget about the Scrabble or some tinny model cars;
I’d love a heap of chocolate, some Caramello bars.
‘Cause Mummy’s a fanatic, won’t let Kit-Kat pass my lips;
no lemonade, no Christmas cake, no lollies and no chips.

She reckons ice-cream plonks a fatty layer on your rump,
but rabbit food like beans will leave me skinny as a stump.”
Tim’s father smelt of liquor, with his cheeks and eyeballs red,
said "Set up Santa’s feast, you kids, then scarper off to bed".

Mum thought some lentil patties would fill Santa's heart with joy,
but "Strike a blooming light,” said Dad. “Now here’s a better ploy."
With Christmas cake and lollies and some chocolates like sin,
a carrot for the reindeer and a tumbler, full of gin,

they set their feast for Santa Claus beneath their Christmas tree.
Tim cried into his pillow, “Lucky Santa, how ‘bout me.”
“A bad example for the kids,” Mum hissed behind her hand.
“I hope our little darlings are too young to understand.

And Dad, you need to moderate your alcoholic haze.”
Dad's eyes were flashing on and off, like Christmas lights, for days.
An idea hit, like popping corn, he snatched up Santa's drink,
and down the hatch it vanished, as Mum’s face turned angry pink.

"I'm just protecting Santa, 'cause I want him safe on high;
‘Don’t drink before you drive’ applies to sleighs up in the sky."
Mum stamped her feet like reindeer as she stomped away to bed,
she grabbed their Christmas carrot, thinking food would clear her head.

She bustled round the bedroom, banging bags and making noise;
her toothbrush was so busy it was buzzing like new toys.
Dad toddled to the bedroom and he soon began to snore,
waves crashing like the ocean, you could hear the mighty roar.

But little Timmy slept until the wispy shawl of dawn
draped pink around the shoulders of the hills, then with a yawn
he understood that Santa would be up and on his way;
instead of Caramello, there’d be beans again all day.

Then Tim set off on tiptoe, gently creeping to the tree,
when “Santa’s read my mind: he’s left his feast laid out for me."
He gobbled up the chocolates and ate the Christmas cake;
stuffed sweets into each pocket, just in case his Mum should wake.

A tummy full of rubbish made him happy as dog
who'd rolled in something awful, like an aromatic bog.
His pillow case revealed its treasures, cricket bat and stumps,
computer games and scooter, his hair rose in prickly bumps

to think he'd got the chocolates as well as all this loot.
He ran around the lounge room, gave a loud excited hoot.
Then Mum appeared with crumpled hair, a frown stretched cheek to cheek,
"And who ate all those chocolates?" Tim’s knees went slowly weak.

"I'm pretty sure that Santa did, or took them to his sleigh,
Perhaps he thought his reindeer would enjoy them when they play."
Mum struggled for a moment, and then softened with a smile;
with arm around Tim’s shoulder said “That Santa’s got some style”.


© Robyn Sykes 2010