Blog

Poem for the Day

Posted: 14 December 2014

My gift for the child:

No wife, kids, home;...
No money sense. Unemployable.
Friends, yes. But the wrong sort –
The workshy, women, wimps,
Petty infringers of the law, persons
With notifiable diseases,
Poll tax collectors, tarts;
The bottom rung.
His end?
I think we’ll make it
Public, prolonged, painful.

Right, said the baby. That was roughly
What we had in mind.

The Wicked Fairy At The Manger
U.A. Fanthorpe

Christmas Haiku #13

Posted: 13 December 2014

Within the city
The swelling sound of people
Making history.

Bill Adair

Poem for the Day

Posted: 13 December 2014

The silent night is shattered
By the falling of a bomb,
As a man and pregnant woman...
Search for somewhere safe and warm.
While in a field some shepherds
Huddle down and try to sleep,
Mid the sounds of rattling gunfire
And the bleating of the sheep.

Some strangers bearing gifts
Approach a family they don’t know,
While far away a choir sings
Of wine and mistletoe.
As children play and robins
Sit on frosty windowsills
The slaughter of the innocents
Is happening round us still.

Around the world the lights all say
That Christmas time is here,
But the little town of Bethlehem
Is dark with hate and fear.
The bleak mid-winters bleaker still,
No angels sing above,
But the child we see in Manger Square
Still reaches out for love.

Christmas Song
Bill Adair

Christmas Haiku #11

Posted: 11 December 2014

Every room is full
As from east and west they come
To pay their poll tax.

Bill Adair

Poem for the Day

Posted: 11 December 2014

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastry-cook's next door to each other with a laundress's next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered, -- flushed but smiling proudly, -- with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half a quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Chris...tmas holly stuck into the top.

O, a wonderful pudding I Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovelful of chestnuts on the fire.

Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass, - two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle. These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and crackled noisily. Then Bob proposed: -

"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"
Which all the family re-echoed.
"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

from A Christmas Carol
Charles Dickens

36-40 of 841 blog entries

<<< 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 >>>

Valid XHTML 1.0 Strict Valid CSS!

Site by Desktop Solutions