A Page of Poems : Special Occasions

Easter Bunny
(Mar 2006)

The Easter Bunny, a chocolate bunny,
Sat quietly by himself
And wondered why he was all alone
Up there upon the shelf.

Poor Easter Bunny, a lonely bunny,
Just imagine how he felt,
Not knowing that he wasn't wanted
'Cos he'd just begun to melt.

***

I Hate Christmas
(Nov 2005)

I'll get presents that believe me I don't want or I don't need,
I'll see people that I do not want to see.
I will eat too much and drink too much and feel a little sick
And I guess I'll have to buy a Christmas tree.

All the money that I spend will be haunting me for months,
Yes, and so will all those inches on my waist,
While the wrappings and the ribbons will fill the rubbish bin
And I always think that turkey's got no taste.

Then after it's all over I will have about a year
To forget how much I hated you-know-when,
But there is another problem that will rear its ugly head
'Cos I have to have a birthday before then.

***

Last Year's Christmas Card
(Dec 2003)

I'm looking at a last-year's card
For the postman hasn't been,
But it is a very pretty card
With this lovely old Christmas scene.

Bundled up against the cold,
Casting winter shadows long,
Down a lane a family walks
Towards a Christmas long since gone.

Fields lie warm beneath the snow,
Trees stand tall against the sky,
A robin sits upon a fence
To watch the family struggle by.

Outside my window it's like that card;
The snowy scene is just the same,
But here inside I'm hopping mad
'Cos the gritter never came.

***

Christmas Comes In Boxes
(Dec 2001)

The boxes in the attic have been opened once again
And the contents really aren't a pretty sight -
A tired old artificial tree and miles of tangled wire
With bulbs that just don't seem to want to light.

A box is shaken on the street to ask us all to give
A little for the needy in Peru.
But in the winter's cold our hands stay buried in our pockets
So the needy in Peru must just make do.

Expensive toys in boxes are stacked high upon the shelves,
And wrapping paper waits to play its role
In making pretty presents that most surely must have come
From Santa's little helpers at the Pole.

Families in their theatre boxes watching pantomime,
They're hissing, booing, shouting with great glee,
And passing round a box of chocs to keep the children sweet,
I wonder if they'll want to eat their tea.

Christmas boxes for the milkman and the paperboy
Who'll still deliver when the snow is deep.
But of them all, the most important box on Christmas Day
Is the one we watch before we fall asleep.

Picture

***

The Tramp
(Dec 2000)

a Christmas poem

In through the gate came a figure well muffled,
But cold were the feet of the tramp
As up the path to the house he shuffled
Through snow brightly lit by his lamp.

Frost-covered bushes and trees watched him pass,
The snow hid the doorstep from sight
And just like pendants of sculptured glass
Icicles shone in the light.

Quite how he entered is not to be told,
But he did so not making a sound.
And soon his bones were not quite so cold
As he sipped at the whisky he found.

Upstairs the family was asleep and in dream,
Downstairs the tramp had to smile
For he'd just found a plate of mince pie and cream,
A taste he'd not known for a while.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand
He sighed and then dozed in a chair.
Lost in a warm and magical land
He did not hear the creak of the stair.

For it's Christmas Morning and the children can't wait,
Bursting through the door they see -
An empty glass and an empty plate
And presents under the tree

But of the tramp there is not a trace
Just crumbs on the arm of a chair.
"He's been! He's been!" says the joy on each face
But perhaps he was never there.

***

Christmas Past
(Jan 2004)

A more serious piece expanded from two verses that I rather liked in "Last Year's Christmas Card".

Bundled up against the cold,
Casting winter shadows long,
Down a lane a family walks
Towards a Christmas long since gone.

Fields lie warm beneath the snow,
Trees stand tall against the sky,
A robin sits upon a fence
To watch the family struggle by.

Holly, green with berries red,
Lines the hedgerow topped in white.
The robin sings just one more song
As the winter sun drops out of sight.

An open gate displays the way
To a house with windows warm and bright
Where the sound of laughter fills the air
Of a quickly-falling Christmas night.

Parcels lie beneath the tree,
Children play and friends embrace
As flames dance high in the open fire
And candles light each happy face.

The robin wings his way back home,
The family join their friends in song
And the snow begins to fall again
Upon a Christmas long since gone.

***

It's Mother's Day
(Mar 2001)

It's Mother's Day - so what?
I'll send a card and a cheap bouquet
And I'll make a very quick phone call
To check that she's okay.

Of course I'm hypocritical
Now the actual day is here,
But I'm sure she won't remember
I've ignored her all the year.

I didn't ask to be her son
She just took it upon herself
So perhaps I'll forget the card and flowers
And leave them on the shelf.

But I suppose I'd better see her
Rather than send a letter
And anyway I've just hurt myself
And need her to kiss it better.

***

The Valentine Card
(Feb 2001)

It came through the door with a loud ‘kerplunk’
And now lies on the floor with the usual junk.
I can see what it is, no prizes there,
For hearts and kisses are drawn everywhere.
A valentine card - who could it be
Sending a message of love to me?
Could it be Sarah? Belinda? or Jane?
Or the girl who smiled last week on the train?
What about Lisa? Donna? or Tess?
It’s no good I’ll have to read it and guess.
I kneel down and gather it up from the mat
To find that it’s actually addressed to my cat.

***

Penny For The Guy
(Nov 2002)

In early November, sixteen hundred and five,
To blow up Parliament and the King,
Deep in the cellars of the Palace of Westminster
Were barrels of gunpowder and some string.

The plan was to wait until November the Fifth,
And Fawkes was to be the Guy
To light the fuse and then quickly retire
As the palace was blown sky-high.

But sometimes things just won't go as planned:
On November the Fourth he was found
Practising lighting a piece of rope
Then throwing himself to the ground.

When questioned about this odd behaviour
He told of the Gunpowder Plot
And three months later any kind of future
Was something he hadn't got.

Yet being a failure has brought him fame
For as the sparks fly high
The bonfire burns an effigy of a pope
But everyone thinks that it's Guy.

***

Trick or Treat?
(Oct 2003)

Hey, mister! - Trick or Treat?
But that don't mean I want a sweet:
It's the folding stuff I need
Just to keep me up on speed.

Hey, mister! - Trick or Treat?
I've got a trick I think is neat:
Unless you're braver than I think you are
I'll use this spray-can on your car.

Hey, mister! - Trick or Treat?
Your face has gone white as a sheet:
Maybe you are thinking again
Of last year's broken windowpane.

Hey, mister! - Trick or Treat?
I know you want to be discreet
So give me money, and this year
You'll see my best trick -
I'll disappear.

***

all the above works are copyright David Axton © All Rights Reserved

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