Oh dear, it’s Christmas time;
How quick the year has flown;
I haven’t made a pudding or a cake.
The shortbread – well – I made it,
But the truth is that I ate it,
Okay, I couldn’t help it, I was stressed;
From thinking ‘bout the tree,
How I hadn’t got it, yet,
And should I buy fresh pine, or get a fake,
Else go and chop one down,
Or plant one in the ground,
It’s hard to know, oh, how my head does ache.
Heavens! Gifts! I’d quite forgotten –
Shortbread! Ha! But no; I ate them;
You know, I couldn’t help it, I was stressed.
And where am I to go;
This Christmas, ho, hey, ho?
I guess I really haven’t thought ahead.
Right! Carols by candlelight;
Oh, it seems I’ve missed that night!
No worries, instead… I’ll deck the halls!
With trinkets; green and red and gold,
Mistletoe at each threshold,
It will be a wondrous sight, for all!
Except… where has all the tinsel gone?!
The Christmas bling, the bonbons?
There’s nothing in the décor box!
Just one pair of Santa socks,
And some of the nativity;
What a jolly mystery!
Oh! But wait… I begin to remember…
The missing bling… from last December…
Got twisted, in a matted knot;
Tangled round the pine and pot;
Yes… I’d hid it by the vegie plot,
Out of sight and clean forgot!
Oh dear… But wait! A thought has just appeared!
I wonder… might it be too weird?
Would it? Could it, be just fine?
If I recycled last year’s pine?
It’s Christmas Eve; it’s rather late,
A dried arrangement… could look great…?
Image by Theo Crazzolara from Pixabay
Up the tree Molly flew
to a bird attached at the top
But halfway up her nail stuck
and there she had to stop
In the midst of all the tree lights
Molly let out a cat like groan
“If you get me down from here now
I’ll leave that bird alone”
Photo from Pexels by tripleMdesignz
Dreams come true on Christmas eve’s night.
Oh, how my spirit was so bright.
The night before Christmas was an amazing day,
Everyone decorated without a delay.
Awaiting the moment, the grandest show,
With Santa’s sleigh that would slowly but gracefully flow.
A pack full of gifts,
Is what he lifts.
He will soon appear,
Spreading laughter and cheer.
In the shade of pink is where the snowflake danced,
Where couples in the snow also prance.
In this land of wonder, oh very sweet and bright,
A pink Christmas night, such a mere delight.
Love and warmth in the air it flows.
Christmas is a place where it snows.
Sarah is 11 years old and this is her first contribution to our site.
Familiar tunes float through stores;
holly, tinsel, wreathes on doors;
sparkling trees, the scent of pine.
Can it be almost Christmas time?
Elves on shelves, all playing tricks;
bells and baubles, candy sticks;
Silent Night the carolers chime
Maybe it’s nearly Christmas time.
Whispered plans and secret lists;
crinkly paper, wrapping gifts;
fairy lights on trees entwined.
It surely must be Christmas time.
Kindness, sharing, reaching out
to friends and family and all around;
peace and joy in hearts and minds.
Yes, it really is Christmas Time!
Photo from Pexels by Bob SpringBob54
It’s time to give — and forgive,
Time to put those fights aside.
Time to hold your friendships close,
Time to show you shine inside.
It’s time for second chances,
Time to show the best of you.
But why just shine at Christmas?
You can shine the whole year through.
Full of importance
on Pageant Day
our canine friends
were out to play
Santa costumes
Christmas grins
white beards flowing
from hairy chins
Music and laughter
Christmas cheer
the town comes alive
this time of year
Thousands of locals
line the street
applauding our pooches
as they wag to the beat
The talk of the town
for the year to come
The dogs of Mt Gambier
are second to none
Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Don’t forget a special treat for your furry members on Christmas Day.
Photo from Pexels by Goochie Poochie Grooming
Cautiously, creeping down the stairs,
carefully avoiding the creaks,
we stop and take each others hand.
At the bottom we tiptoe, trembling,
towards the door.
Almost afraid to breathe
we slowly, gently, push it open.
Beneath the twinkling lights sit the gifts.
‘He’s been!’ we whisper. ‘He’s been!’
Photo from Pexels by Nicole Michalou
Songs of yore, can be a bore
When they speak of snow and Holly.
Songs of sun are much more fun
To make our Christmas jolly.
We don’t ride sleighs – we catch some rays
As temperatures are soaring.
Hams to slice and prawns on ice
The feast is never boring.
Thongs on feet are not complete
Without our favourite boardies.
And by the pool, we’re staying cool
As Christmas hits the forties.
We don’t admire yuletide fire
Where chestnuts sit to roast.
We find fun with water guns,
Watch the sunset by the coast.
Raise a cup, with head held up
And toast the winter failure.
Sunshine above, what’s not love
That’s Christmas in Australia.
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!
Australian Children’s Poetry 