Christmas Poems

Painting by Jan Dean

The Shepherd’s Story

Snow.

Just as it was growing dark – snow.

Soft flakes fell

White and glossy

Thick as swans’ feathers

Slowly, slowly,

Until the world was put to bed

Under this white quilt

Slowly slowly drifting

Into sleep…

Then.  In that silence

The sky was suddenly alive

With angels bright as fire

Their wings burning with such golden light

Their songs like thunder and like ice,

Like bells and like the deep and sonorous sea.

Their message stranger

Than any other I have ever heard.

‘God is born,’ they said.

‘The God who spoke and shaped the world

The stars, the universes

And the soft black deeps of space.

Is born.’

There on that hillside

In that snow

I heard them say it.

Then just as quickly they were gone

The sky was dark again

No echo lingered

Nothing

But the white white snow

The secret white white snow

Nothing has ever been a greater mystery

Than that night.

With angels.  Snow. 

A million different kinds of light

I knew then that the world is not an ordinary place

When heaven shone from one small baby’s face.

Jan Dean

Christmas Baubles

Baubles
fragile, fire-bright
hanging, hovering, quivering
reflectors of tiny, glinting tints
tree treasures

Kate Williams

Chris-mas

Please try to remember, whatever your age,

That Christmas is spelt with a T                                                 

If you try to have Christmas without it 

There’ll be gif-s placed under a -ree

For dinner, you’ll have to eat -urkey

With s-uffing and maybe some sprou-s

And there won’t be much glitter or sparkle

If it’s -insel you’ve hung in your house

And when San-a Claus visits at midnigh-

He’ll find it most dreadfully shocking

If, instead of his usual cookies and milk,

He’s met with a right Chris-mas s-ocking!

John H. Rice

A Big Surprise

For my presents, I said I’d like
computer games,
a mountain bike,
an electric train
or a model plane
but most of all
I’d like a bike.

I opened my presents
and what did I find there?
A hand knitted hat
and a squeaky bear,
more underpants from my aunts
and socks (grey, one pair).

I said ‘thank you’ nicely,
I tried to smile
but what was I thinking
all the while?
I was thinking
I wanted computer games,
a mountain bike,
an electric train
or a model plane
but most of all
I’d have liked
a bike.

“There’s just one last thing
to unwrap,” they said.
“It’s a big surprise
we’ve kept it in the shed.
It’s special, it comes with love
from the lot of us…

Now I’m the only kid in school
with my own hippopotamus.

Michaela Morgan

The Way

Some snow knows

just where to go

drops straight from sky

to be as one

with other snow           

some snow floats

like feathers, lifts

with air and drifts

no rush to get

from high to low

but each and

every downy flake

in silent flight

each one unique

yet like in white

can find its way

to gently change

transform with light

by simply settling

to unite

Liz Brownlee

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