Christmas Yet To Come

(for Charles and Joan)

Christmas Past our childhood paints

In hue of silver, red, or green

That grownup wisdom promptly taints.

We struggle to recall the scene

In haunted hours--'til we succumb

To dreams of Christmas Yet To Come

Christmas Present bids us glee

But often fails us, insofar 

As spirits are but nebulae--

Much like the conjured air guitar

On which our anxious fingers strum

A tune of Christmas Yet To Come

As we our ledgers deftly mark

(With many cyphers) do we dare

Begrudge a sovereign to our clerk?

Pray, let us not be so unfair

Lest nightmares leave us cold and numb

In fear of Christmas Yet To Come

These Christmas apparitions sing

A hymn of one who will redeem

Our souls, and revelation bring.

Upon that holy day t'would seem

Our halting carol will become

A tale of Christmas Yet To Come

Volunteers

You always did prefer the colour green

And deemed a splotch of yellow quite obscene.

A volunteer that, in its moxie, grew

Pops up its head – “pick me!” – and so you do.

Your children grew like weeds, and then were pruned;

To water, sun, and seasons more attuned

These seedlings, in recovering, became.

They grow and show their colours with no shame.

You never flagged, in seasons long ago

But, by and by, your digging had to slow.

To discipline a garden, one must kneel;

Past volunteers, now, you can only wheel.

Of Iron and Irony

She stared and scowled; we recognized and smiled

To see the girl she was, the woman who

Today, we understand as one and two:

A loving mum; a jealous, red-haired child

They loved her in their way, for good and ill

Confuting illness with incompetence

Consult with her? Unfathomable! Hence

The condescending chapter of their will

 

Her boys were refuge, purpose, love sublime

Each year she celebrates her saints, anointed

And, every year, she ends up disappointed;

Expects the worst - and gets it, every time

She dares the world to drive her off her head

And on it, only sees anaemic red

Q to KJ

how did you get so big?

the seed that sprung you
fell in a hard place
wet with tears and bile

in spite of spite, you grew
up, above, out of the box

you expressed a powerful Gene

you were the littlest of us
adored and scared and scarred
fawned over and fought over

now you're big
in gesture, heart, and voice

you sing in the rain

AjO

AjO: With us, or no?
"Yea", say I. Such a long goodbye!

Relations

A block, a chip
An obelisk
A rigid, frigid legacy

A kite, a string
A windy spring
A nurtured spirit, soaring free

The heart, the start
The safety net
The daring, young trapeze artiste

The crown, the frown
The little prince
The dilettante, the egoiste

Her love, her shove
Her constancy
Her pride, her joy, her man of men

His bet, his regret
His push all-in
His sheep, into the lion’s den

Your do’s, your don’ts
Your honour code
Your formula for life unbound

Our dumb mistakes
Our double-takes
Our debt to you who laid the ground

You Idiom!

You idiom! You aged whine!
Left to… whither? On the vine
A grape, knee-high, like a grass-
Hopper (such a cool rider), crass-
Ly, Marvin, you have leapt us.
In the lochness you have kept us.

You idiom! You nether reg-
Unfairly keep us under siege
Till, as soil, we crumb, bullied;
So Lantern-Green your thumb! Bull! We’d
Be better served an ace (or by it);
Deal us out! Abort! Retry it!

You idiom! You utter nut-
Tin! Soldier, one should pick your butt-
On off, switch—flip you!—hit or mis-
Interpret you… but we’re remiss!
Where’s our beef? Our molly? Cod-
Dulled, our edge—and shot, our wad.