Christmas Reunions Poem by Fay Slimm
Christmas Reunions
Vehicles in myriads transporting the nation
Intent on gathering round yuletide hearth.
Annual homing, pilgrim migration
Decides. when arriving, Christmas can start.
Is anyone going to the Sales?
Number One daughter, collapses in chair,
Dead to the world, stays out for the count.
Hung over from last night's beer, ribboned hair
Now dishevelled, denies she'd drunk that amount
And survived, stony- dry mouthed, she says icely
Someone must take her to the Sales.
Son bustles in, grinning his way through hugs
Arms full of stringy brown packaged unknowns
Dives for the fridge, lays full length on the rug
And hogs the telly all day, plus the phone
Conceitedly believing he's being nice.
He knows what he wants from the Sales.
At last arrive oldsters, spluttering gaily,
Protesting this as their best time of year.
Coats off and couched, they state any delay
In booze means more mistletoe usage, near-
Neat whisky and gin only ever suffice!
And don't forget drink from the Sales
Dinner digesting, now ritual games
Begin with controlled opening of gifts.
Cooing delights as each Designer named
High-priced tag appears, craftily lifted
To show off who has bought the best prize.
But most will be swapped in the Sales.
How dimmed and afar seems the Christmas star
Which commerce now tinsels and cling wraps, in
Unhealthy deception that love is not marred
By so much devotion to gold.The saddest sin
Is omission of truth, - as too high a price.
Which just does not come in the Sales.
Fantastic poem Fay yes I think you have just about got it right 10+++++ Chris
Finely crafted and very much to the point. The way your poem keeps circling around to Sales is exactly the bludgeoning that we experience each holiday season. [I never go to a store on boxing day. I'll be damned before I'll shop on my birthday! ]
Really enjoyed this, Fay.There's a bit of all of us in there.So glad I'm poor and sales mean nothing.We already have what we need most and should often exchange it, but never take it back.Another definite ten.Kev x
May I say Amen to this one - wittily and cleverly constructed. How grotesquely obscene is this gluttony of consumption (and now we're being asked to do it for the 'economy' for God's sake!) . What happened to the notion of delayed gratification? Of looking 'forward' to? Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I have never been to a Boxing Day sale. It was never part of my family's agenda. After Christmas day, all I want to do is STOP! ~ I guess this is why I continue to have such a mixed emotional reaction to Christmas and all the hype that precedes and follows it. At least those who follow cricket can enjoy the Boxing Day test. Great poem. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This describes the Boxing day I have just had perfectly! Were you here? ? ? ?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 4:09:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Great poem Fay....you have caught it so well here...thanks for sharing...Fi