Ginger Cats

Ginger cats are different,

From any other cat,

They’re fearless, stand their ground,

And that is just a fact.

Be they short or long haired,

Doesn’t make a difference,

When they feel threatened,

They come to their defence,

Staying very calm,

They don’t run away,

But remain motionless,

Challenging the threat that way.

‘Billy Joe’, my Retriever,

Doesn’t like any cat,

When he sees one anywhere,

He’s only focused on that.

And if it is a ‘ginger’,

I tell him not to toy,

For the ‘ginger’ would eat him alive.

And he’d be a sorry boy.”

Most of the Santas I have seen,

Have been rather round,

Long white beard and moustache,

Peaked hat pointing to the ground.

But then it got me wondering,

How down a sooty chimney does he fit?

And when climbing out the other end.

Wouldn’t his clothes be covered in it?

Wouldn’t the soot leave a trail behind?

Which everyone could see,

Proving that Santa Claus had been,

And returned back via the chimney.

I wondered where the reindeers parked,

Whilst waiting for Santa’s return,

Was it outside the house he was visiting?

About Santa, there was a lot to learn.

So many questions come to mind,

But in the end, does it matter?

Because Christmas is about family,

Love, sharing and being together.

They looked so very tempting,

The ball-balls on the tree,

Bright and multi coloured,

They were inviting me.

Some sparkled, others shiny,

Just hanging on the tree,

I jumped up and grabbed one,

And hid it happily.

I was alone in the house,

So, I stole another one,

I added it to my pile,

This was so much fun.

I jumped up for a third attempt,

When I heard the door,

My family stood in front of me,

Whilst I crashed to the floor.

“Billy Joe, you naughty dog”,

My owner yelled at me,

“How dare you take the ball-balls off,

Our beautiful Christmas tree”.

I bowed my head with regret,

And all that they could see,

Was the ball-ball in my mouth,

They laughed and patted me.

Christmas Trees

Let’s buy Christmas trees,

That last forever,

Made of wood or plastic,

Or anything clever.

Let’s save living trees,

Being cut down in their prime,

Just to serve a purpose,

For a very short time.

It seems such a waste,

To kill a tree that is living,

When there are many alternatives,

Which are far more forgiving.

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.

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.

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.

Give Blessings

Bless the firemen and volunteers,

Who fight for us when we’re in trouble,

Who risk their lives unselfishly,

Encountering flames and often rubble.

The work is hard, very physical,

The stress and adrenalin unseen,

The task at hand very demanding,

And it’s all in, nothing in-between.

They are the unsung heroes,

Who give hope to everyone,

We should honour and appreciate,

Everything they do and have done.

Fire, Fire.

It’s getting hot,

The sun is out,

Wind is blowing,

There’s smoke about.

Temperature’s high,

Warnings given,

Firemen out,

By fires are driven.

Communities gathered,

In support of all,

Souls are united,

To cushion a fall.

Let us pray,

That all is well,

And we can return,

No tragic story to tell.

Remembrance Day,

Ever in our hearts,

Minute of silence observed,

Every year at the eleventh hour, day and month,

Marking respect and gratitude,

Being reverent to those

Returned soldiers,

And those who lost their lives.

Never forgetting their sacrifice,

Commemorating their achievements,

Embracing a universal loss.

Defending home and country,

And human rights and more,

Yet always striving for peace, not war.