Category Archives: Poem of the Day

“Christmas Patience” by Kylie Covark

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Over in the corner,

Underneath the tree,

There’s a shiny silver present

That is wrapped up just for me.

 

It’s been teasing me and taunting

For almost one whole week.

I’ll unpick a tiny corner,

And I’ll take a tiny peek.

 

The sticky tape is tricky,

So, I’ll rip a little more.

Then I’ll put it back right after

Just the way it was before.

 

Oh no! I’ve pulled too hard!

Silver paper’s on the floor!

My present is exposed

And my mum is at the door!

 

She’ll be super-duper angry!

And Santa will be too!

He’ll put me on the bad list –

Although it isn’t true…

 

I really am a good kid;

My Nan says I’m a joy!

I only wanted one small peek

At my new Christmas toy.

 

My only hope right now

Is to hide behind this chair.

If I stay completely still,

Then my mum won’t know I’m there.

 

She steps into the room,

And she cries out, ‘You’re so silly!’

I think that I’ve been caught,

But she’s staring straight at Mille!

 

Patience is a virtue?

I don’t agree with that.

Check all your presents early

And then blame it on the cat!

“Intangible Gifts” by Celia Berrell

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We don’t have to wait until Christmas

to share some intangible gifts.

It could be a morsel of caring

wrapped up in a smile, set adrift to sail on a seascape of glances

to bridge any saddening rifts

and reach that deserving receiver

we yearn in our heart to uplift.

https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/intangible

 

“Climate Change is Changing Christmas” by James Aitchison

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Season’s greetings — but which season?

Bush fires start much earlier now.

When the country’s devastated,

What joy will light the Christmas hour?

 

Stumps of houses, chimneys blackened,

Nowhere for Santa Claus to stop!

No trees this year decked with tinsel,

They’re just a charred and cheerless crop.

 

With all our presents wrapped in dust,

And no grass to feed the reindeer,

I hate to think of Christmas morn;

It will get worse year after year!

 

When climate change changes Christmas,

No Santa through the sky will dash.

Yes, we’ll still have our white Christmas —

But a Christmas all white with ash.

“A gift of a kind” by Toni Newell

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A Gift of a Kind.

 

I saw a man,

On a street,

He had no home,

He had bare feet.

He sat in a doorway,

On a sleeping bag,

A few possessions,

Is all he had.

He sat erect,

His eyes darting,

He’d known better times,

It was disheartening.

I thought of the many,

Who lived on the street,

The various charities,

Their needs tried to meet.

I was thankful to have,

A roof over my head,

A family who loved me,

And a warm cosy bed.

I felt very lucky,

And it came to mind,

That being so blessed,

Was a gift of a kind.

“Gifts” by Penny Szentkuti

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Gifts

A gift comes from one

and is given to another.

The first is life

from a father and a mother.

Then comes a book, a baby doll,

a blanket soft and warm, to hold.

A grandma’s love,

an uncle’s time

an auntie’s favourite nursery rhyme,

a friend who listens and understands –

some gifts you can’t hold in your hand.

So notice those who give around you,

the gifts from nature that surround you.

Receive with gratitude and grace

and give with love in every case.

“The Gift” by Julie Cahill

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The Gift

The children took turns on Santa’s knee-
‘And what would you like?’ he asked.
The children were armed with answers;
their characters often unmasked.
‘I’d like a gun that shoots and kills,’
said a naive boy of three.
‘I’d like a doll’s house. I’ll smack my children, as my parents both smack me.’
Santa adjusted his whiskered chin;
gave thought before he answered . . .
‘Why shoot a gun? You could shoot Christmas snaps.’
Wow – what a comeback mastered.
The boy thought back, clapped his hands,
and asked for a camera from Christmas.
‘You could smack your children with loving kisses, if you receive indeed, a doll’s house.’
The girl saw red- her future daughter
with kisses all over her head.
‘I’ve changed my mind. A girl can do that.
I’d like lipsticks in Christmas red.’

“Louis, the Giraffe” by Toni Newell

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Louis, the Giraffe

Louis looked down from the tree,

Which he had climbed in fear,

Looking at a little mouse,

Who appeared to be too near.

He hugged the tree with all his might,

Too frightened to climb down,

The mouse just calmly stayed there,

Not moving, making no sound.

The mouse looked up at the giraffe,

Who was clinging to this tree,

And asked, “What are you afraid of?

You’re four million times bigger than me.”

Louis moved a little higher,

Wishing the mouse would leave,

So that he could climb back down,

And his self-esteem retrieve.

The mouse got bored and scurried off,

Leaving the giraffe alone,

Louise quickly climbed down the tree,

And galloped all the way home.