These were supposed to be pieces of really bad poetry about Christmas, but some of them are actually quite good – proving just how hard it is to write truly dreadful poems. Anyway, they were great fun to read out at our Virtual Christmas Party and here they are for all and sundry to enjoy (or wince at).
“Awful Christmas Poem” by Anne Howkins
Christmas comes but once a year Unless you shop in B&M. Or Fatboys, when the season of hope and cheer Could be said to last all year. Christmas comes but once a year, Which pisses off Jeff Bezos Something rotten I fear Which is why he invented Black Friday. Christmas comes but once a year Which is good news for turkeys Although not so much I fear If they’ve survived Thanksgiving, Their demise is near. Christmas comes but once a year A bit like Easter, Halloween and bonfire night. And Independence Day, And birthdays, and wedding anniversaries, And every other sodding day. Christmas comes but once a year And what I’d really like to know Is who on this precious earth Thought putting elves on shelves Was such a good idea?
“Xmas 2020 Poem” by Sheila O’Neill
We’re on our own this year, without the rellies, Still chowing on turkey and filling our bellies, But it wont be the same, I can’t lie, might feel like just another meal, Cos we know now for sure it’s the sparkling company we adore, Families and fun and lots of love and even Dad being a bore. But this year it’ll be quiet, just us, thanks to darned ‘Rona’, Who threatened to make everything that we love a gonna But hey, look it’s still Christmas, and Rona Hon, we’ve got you a gift, I don’t wanna spoil her surprise but I can say it’s pretty chilled Minus 80 degrees cool to be precise, so Rona get ready to ooze And next year God bless us everyone we’ll be back at the booze Having learned about love in this year as we’ve denied and defied Whilst Rona reformed will in future only exist on a slide….
“Bad Christmas Poem” by Nat Ravenlock
C is for Christmas Tree with baubles hanging on one side H is for Holly growing everywhere outside R is for Reindeer and Santa’s shouts of “Ho Ho” I is for “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” playing on the radio S is for Snow and there being lots of it T is for Christmas Tree with baubles hanging on it MA is for the Master of Arts degree I studied so I could write S is for [a descriptive, rhyming word for this here Christmas poem]
“Not So Very Merry” by Linda Cooper
Christmas is coming, the three words I dread I’d prefer to ignore it and stay in my bed. It’s only August and still hot outside But we can’t escape, there’s nowhere to hide. In the shops summer goods are no longer seen Shelves now decked with red, gold and green. Get writing your cards and bring out the tree Max out on your overdraft with each spending spree. By Autumn we’re instructed to start feeling jolly As we deck the halls with boughs of holly. And woe betide cynics who see no reason To join in the hype of the humbug season. The same cheesy songs blast out through the air While the grinches like me are beginning to swear. As the days grow short and the nights turn colder Some of us want to shoot Noddy Holder. Frosty the snowman, mistletoe and wine, Santa and reindeer with noses that shine. We three kings and the first noel On continuous loop, my idea of hell. The aisles in the shops now sparkle and glow With baubles and lights and cotton wool snow Retailers by now are rolling with laughter As they head to the bank. It’s your money they’re after. Commercial break jingles assault us each night The must-buys from China, all overpriced shite. Lights twinkle in windows of every home owner And nothing can stop it, not even Corona. Come the day all the kids will be up before four Leaving torn wrapping paper all over the floor As they rip open gifts they really don’t need All in the name of profit and greed. So start stuffing the turkey and roasting the spuds, Peeling the sprouts, and steaming the puds. Crack open the Baileys, the port and the claret And where would we be without Kevin the carrot? So while the rest of you wallow in Christmas cheer And thoughts turn to the close of this horrible year, I’ll be glad when it’s over, this annual farce. The season of peace and goodwill - my arse.
“A Twist in the Tale” by Helen Yourston
It’s the night before Christmas the kids are just cranky. Mum and Dad are sad because they lost their little Frankie. Its been such a shit year there is no spirit, Let's hope at least Santa can come and visit. The snow is falling the elves are wrapping And Santa is ho ho ho. His reindeer are eager, Steady Rudolph you know the procedure. As Santa hoists himself into his sleigh The doors are flung open, the cold chill blasts through, As the reindeer charge forward, Santa waves his farewell. Up and down chimneys, in through the windows, The parcels are all left lightening the load. Rudolph heads north to arrive at the grotto, Another year done could this be Santa’s motto. Santa is bloated so full of mince pies, His head is spinning what a surprise. The sleigh glides inside, the elves take the reins, Goodbye sweet reindeer see you again. The morning is bright there is snow on the ground, The kids are excited as they gather around. Mum and Dad smiling, the first in a while As the kids open their presents paper is flying around. Christmas is over all too soon, A fortnight later the world is doomed. Santa had Covid and passed it around Happy 2021
“‘Twas The Night Before Christmas” by Mark Smith
‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through our flat Not a creature was stirring, not even a rat The children were nestled all snug in one bed None of them mine though nothing was said I blame the milkman, the postman too And the man who fixed the plumbing has fathered a few And so we all settled to sleep through the night As in our little flat we switched off the light And then down below I heard such a clatter It was pub closing time and they know how to chatter But up in the sky I saw to my delight Nine reindeer and one fat bloke had taken to flight As fast as you can he flew through the air Calling their names like a man at the fair “Now Sporty! Now Scary! Yes Baby as well! Come Posh and the other one whose name I can’t tell! Come John! Come George! Now Paul do keep up! And where is poor Ringo the mischievous Pup?” Then soon up on the top of our flat There came the sound of pitter and pat Clambering down and through the window he came I kept my eyes tight. We all did the same All that could be heard was the shuffling of feet And then he was gone. He’d made his retreat I fell back to sleep and dreamt of first light When presents would be opened. What a wonderful sight. But when morning came we rose to alarm He’d nicked all our presents. The bastard!
“Xmas Poem” by Kate Hearn
'Twas a Covid style Christmas, And all through the land, People were distancing, And washing their hands Children would ask, Why isn’t Santa here? For grown ups to answer: He’s in quarantine, Dear A vaccine was looming, That might set us free, But on whether to have it No one could agree To do Christmas shopping A mask we must wear, Or get Amazon to deliver, And stay out the Covid-air Our Christmas is limited To a household max of three, To stop Covid from lurking Under the tree Parties were cancelled, Unless they’re online, With crazy Christmas jumpers And plenty of wine As we end 2020, This Christmas will bring, I hope, for you, happiness And every good thing
“A Very Brinwade Christmas” by Alice Flear
A demon came traveling from another dimension, He left his dark home with some apprehension. In through a crack of a tree he did slide, Within its strange branches the demon did hide. Slinking out of the branches, and into the smith Where Mr and Mrs looked really quite miffed. The Smith raised his hammer, his Mrs her ladle, And they chased the dark creature right out through the stable. He took to the street to find people singing, The din from the carollers set his ears ringing. He fled to the church, who were ringing their bells. The noise can’t compare to all seven hells. He followed a light and came to the Hall. He grinned and he started to climb up the wall. All of a sudden, the hall set ablaze, The demon was lost in a dark, smoky haze. He ran from the screams that curdled his blood Straight into a giant with a fur-lined red hood. Before he could turn and run away fast The giant produced a red velvet sack. “Ho, ho!” boomed the giant, “It’s Christmas, you know!” And to make matters worse, it had started to snow. The giant smiled, kindly, he said, “Do not fear, I come from the North Pole, a long way from here. I see that you’re sad as you wonder alone, But it’s Christmas, my friend! And I’m sending you home. With a wink and a nod, he vanished from sight, In his place was a frog and a mounted Red Knight. Back through the village and onto the green The knight lead the demon to a bright Christmas scene. In the midst of the presents, the socks, and mulled wine. Wrapped in baubles and tinsel, a tall Christmas pine. The squirrel in armour sliced a crack in the tree, The demon dived in; the crowd shouted “Whoopee!” And they heard him exclaim as he slunk out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and thank you, Red Knight!”
“Fosseway Carol” (to the tune of ‘Good King Wenceslas’) by Nick Rowe
The good folk of Fosseway set out To build on recent glories. What was the new book about? ‘Twas Gothicky short stories. Brightly did they start to write With authors & plots a-plenty Little did they know the shite That’d come in Twenty Twe - en - ty. At Gannets café we did meet To work on plots and places. Breakfast goodies we did eat We stuffed our silly faces. We hiked up from the Kelham Fox To see our chosen setting. Little did we know the Pox Towards Britain was je - eh - tting. A few weeks into the new year We’d made some decent progress; On the forum tales did appear Showing our creative process. Then in March came the rub: Our lives Covid did hinder; We weren’t allowed down at the pub Which really annoyed Li - in - da. Bravely we continued on, Though lock-down was cruel. Our meetings were not foregone But they were now virtual. Finally the book was done Although a little delayed We hope everyone will come To read about Bri - in - wade.
“Silent Knight” by Linda Cooper
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, Not a creature was stirring except for her spouse. From under the duvet she started to swear, As the sound of loud snoring filled the night air. She crept from the bedroom, descended the stairs, Stumbled into the kitchen to examine her wares. She knew there was something, somewhere, the right fit, That would muffle the snoring and not hurt a bit. She raided the cupboards and emptied the drawers, Till she found a device that she thought would stop snores. Crept back to the bedroom, my God what a racket. Then in the dim light she opened the packet. She couldn’t remember where her glasses were, So the instructions inside were a bit of a blur. She groped in the dark for the nose on the face, But fear in the blackness she found the wrong place. Not a clue about fuses was one of her faults, So I’m afraid that she used the wrong number of volts. And having no knowledge of electricity, She wired it up badly and pressed the wrong key. But then there was silence, no tossing and turning, And the night air was filled with the slight smell of burning. Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, She sprang from her bed to see what was the matter. St Nicholas came flying from out of the night, Looked down from the sky and saw her red light. She felt quite elated by the absence of snores, And spent the night raving with old Santa Claus. As the morning light dawned he leapt on his sleigh, Harnessed his reindeer and went on his way. But she heard him exclaim, ‘God bless you my dear. Hang on to your stockings and I’ll see you next year.’
Leave a Reply