Sleep
Last night
we glowed like rainbows
as drumbeats
shook the air
Tonight
dinner, toothbrush
quiet
It’s too early
Let’s have some fun
One more story
I don’t want to
go to sleep
I don’t want to
go to sleep
I
don’t
want
to
go
to
Nadine Cranenburgh
Last night
we glowed like rainbows
as drumbeats
shook the air
Tonight
dinner, toothbrush
quiet
It’s too early
Let’s have some fun
One more story
I don’t want to
go to sleep
I don’t want to
go to sleep
I
don’t
want
to
go
to
Christmas is coming,
Our school year’s complete.
It’s time for admiring,
As we walk street to street.
On doors we see wreaths
of green and red holly.
On balconies, sleighs,
and Santas fat and jolly.
The streets are not dark,
Even though it’s late,
For blinking and winking
On tree, fence or gate
Is a string of sparkling LED lights.
Our suburb’s gone magic
With colours so bright
We’ll visit again,
A new street each night.
But I’m glad that the sparkling
Is a Christmas-time treat
Like presents and cicadas,
and too much to eat.
The year keeps on turning,
Christmas is almost over.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Day
So tonight we’re all going
To the fireworks display.

A wiggle, a wobble
a scramble, a stumble
a nibble, a gnaw and a nip
a puddle of dribble
a bowl full of kibble
a trip and a slide and a slip
a tail that’s a’wagging
a small bottom dragging
a’scrapin’, a’scratchin’ and flinchin’
the tiniest paws
on the slipperiest floors
a pup on the tiles in the kitchen.
Hoo hoo hoo, and he haw hay
laughed the Kooka on his way.
After him the magpies chased
winging past in reckless haste.
What was it that the Kooka heard
to cause the magpies get so stirred?
An ornithologist rushed to meet
a magpie walking on two sore feet.
‘I’m scared to fly,’ the magpie wailed
‘They laughed at me because I failed.’
He then limped on, a bird unique,
an unhappy agoraphobic freak.
If you want to be happy
As happy can be,
Try not to keep asking
“What’s in it for me?”
Enjoy what you have,
(Perhaps quite a lot)
And give far less thought
To what you have not.
Be happy you live,
Be happy you grow,
Be happy you learn
What many don’t know,
Be happy to help
A person in need,
Be happy you’re loved.
That’s happy indeed!

Monty says: Like adults, children can look for happiness in the wrong places and become disappointed and disillusioned with life. My aim in the poem was to offer a simple recipe for a different outcome.
Santa had a problem—his special suit no longer fit.
It was snug around the tummy. When he sat, his trousers split.
One bight and early morning, Mrs Santa said:
“Dear, I must tell you something that I read.
I love you roly-poly, I love you as you are,
but if you took a health test you wouldn’t get a star.
It’s really most important to have a healthy heart
and if you want a long life, it’s not too late to start.”
Santa called in at the health club—the trainer checked him out.
She said: “We’ll plan a program that’ll work without a doubt.”
She booked him in for workouts three times every week,
then talked about his diet and told him what to eat.
He ate lots of fruit and vegies, chose grilled instead of fried
for every single main meal, with salads on the side.
He said no to morning tea cakes and had carrot sticks instead.
Whenever offered sweet treats, he firmly shook his head.
Santa also started walking quite early in the day
and soon those extra kilos began to melt away.
He said: “I feel fantastic, this year will be a breeze.
I’ll deliver all those presents without the slightest wheeze.
I won’t get stuck in chimneys or struggle up steep stairs
or stop to have a rest whenever I see chairs.”
Then on Christmas Eve, a problem as Santa dressed to leave.
His suit no longer fit him except for length of sleeve.
His top was loose and baggy where tight it was before,
and when he pulled his trousers up, they slid down to the floor.
He looked at Mrs Santa. “Whatever will we do?
Perhaps some safety pins? Could you sew a seam or two?
We need a quick solution for I really ought to go.
The children are all waiting and I can’t be late, you know.”
Mrs Santa nodded and tried to hide a smile.
“Thank goodness it’s late shopping. This will only take a while.”
So that’s why this year Santa won’t be wearing his red suit.
He’s got a brand new outfit. Mrs Santa thinks it’s cute.
It’s a bright red fleecy tracksuit for warmth in North Pole cold,
and a pair of sporty sneakers replacing boots of old.
For his head a woolly beanie instead of pom pom cap.
So if one Christmas evening you should glimpse a bearded chap
who looks a lot like Santa except he’s fit and trim,
don’t think that you’re mistaken, for yes, you’re right, it’s him!
On the first day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
Last year’s Christmas stocking
In the bottom was a pea
On the second day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A chewed up Christmas decoration
For our brand new tree
On the third day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A dug up bone from last year
And dumped it by my knee
On the fourth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
An old Santa hat
Found under the old settee
On the fifth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A bit of Christmas cake
To go with my cup of tea
On the sixth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A striped candy cane
Stolen from the tree
On the seventh day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A string of Christmas lights
He thought needed to be freed
On the eighth day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
A potato from the vegie patch
One less for Christmas tea
On the ninth day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
A freshly baked mince pie
And eyes that pleaded “feed me”
On the tenth day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
An old nativity book
Pages ripped out for me to see
On the eleventh day of Christmas
My doggy brought to me
Santa’s special cookies
Left out for Santa’s feed
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My doggie brought to me
A heart of Christmas cheer
Which was really all I need
Fly to the moon and share with me
Your dreams and angel dust
We’ll touch the stars and fill the air
With sparkles light and such.
Fly to the moon, look down and see
Blue oceans surge and swell
The fish will dance in moonglow,
Salty secrets yet to tell.
Fly to the moon and watch the earth
From way up high above
Turning ever turning
All magnificence and love.

Sparkle, sparkle, heav’nly gem,
Lead the wise to Bethlehem.
For their journey from afar,
You will be their guiding star.
Lead them onward to the west:
So they may be truly blessed,
As they offer gifts they bring
To the newborn infant King.
Star of hope: from heav’n a sign,
Lead them to the Child divine!

Monty says: I’d been trying on and off to produce a new Christmas poem since the “star” prompt (#35). Along came #49 “Christmas” and suddenly time was running out, but at last #50 “Sparkle” (cf.”twinkle”) got me going, with the above result.