A poem is a frozen moment melted by each reader for themselves to flow into the here and now. - Hilde Domin 1909-2006

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SONNET 97 - HOW LIKE A WINTER HATH MY ABSENCE BEEN

William Shakespeare 1564-1616

How like a winter hath my absence been

From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!

What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!

What old December's bareness everywhere!

And yet this time remov'd was summer's time,

The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,

Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,

Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:

Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me

But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit;

For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,

And thou away, the very birds are mute;

Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer

That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

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CHRISTMASTIDE
Thomas Hardy 1840-1928

The rain-shafts splintered on me
As despondently I strode;
The twilight gloomed upon me
And bleared the blank high-road.
Each bush gave forth, when blown on
By gusts in shower and shower,
A sigh, as it were sown on
In handfuls by a sower.

A cheerful voice called nigh me,
"A merry Christmas, friend!"
There rose a figure by me,
Walking with townward trend,
A sodden tramp's, who, breaking
Into thin song, bore straight
Ahead, direction taking
Toward the Casual's gate.

The Casual's gate was the entrance to the workhouse in Dorchester

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A FAMILY CHRISTMAS

Ernestine Northover b.1943

Sitting in front of the fire, Auntie Flo's reciting a story,

it's one about her first Christmas as a newly wed,

the same one she broadcasts every year,

but no one is listening.

Uncle Fred, 'out to the world' snores rhythmically

on the sofa.

Mother exhausted, having cooked the lunch,

without help, as usual,stifles a yawn.

Dad, brow furrowed, is trying to piece together

Eddy's lego set,

whilst Eddy glowers,

after all, it was his present.

Joe, playing with a set of 'disco lights'

is sending flashes of colour across the room,

straight into Grandpa's eyes,

making him feel even more bilious

after having consumed too many chocolates.

Grandma's knitting.

Grandma always knits on Christmas Day,

and every other day, come to that,

probably yet another scarf for what she believes is

still the war effort.

The cat, curled up on her lap, purrs contentedly,

oblivious of the knitting needles, waving precariously

in front of his sleepy eyes.

Susan is gazing at the TV screen, .

glued, for the umpteenth time to The Sound of Music movie,

singing every song, word for word,

at the top of her voice.

'Turkey was nice', said Auntie,

'I was given too much', moaned Grandpa, belching loudly.

'Your problem is, you never can refuse a second helping', said Grandma, 'so it's your own fault'.

Mother grins and asks,

'Would anybody like another mince pie? '

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POETRY TO PLEASE WILL BE UPDATED ON THURSDAY NEXT WEEK

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