POEM OF THE WEEK - Country Christmas

Published: Sunday | December 29, 2013 Comments 0

  • POEM OF THE WEEK - Country Christmas

    There is a semblance of movement

    in the gentle Christmas breeze

    of the white-washed trees.

    The stones in the yard, also white,

    and done to catch the light,

    are gleaming in the sun.

    Yams, cocoas, vegetables and fruits

    are in abundance,

    to be in preponderance

    by those who have more than enough

    of the wonderful Christmas spirit,

    which deserves merit.

    Then, to the special day.

    New clothes, new shoes, now dearer

    but affordable at bay.

    The newly picked sorrel

    lay on the ground, soon to be prepared

    with ginger and rum.

    On the 23rd of December

    to remember

    that the lean pork leg and maybe ham,

    are lying in the pan.

    The lovely Christmas tree,

    The Nativity scene, the lovely lighted candles

    burning on the altar of the old church.

    It is Christmas day.

    The people are walking in the still-dark morning

    to worship until the new day dawning

    the newly born Son of God

    the choir goes carolling through the small town

    in their long gowns with with candles bright,

    so as not to lose sight of the true meaning

    with hope beaming.

    At last, home again with the presents under the tree

    Breakfast is waiting and much later the great feast

    where everyone meets to eat and to thank God

    for another year of optimum care.

    - Emma-June Bell
  • Give Love At Christmas!
It's Christmas time again.

There's much laughter, fun and excitement.

Amid all the festivities, some will experience alienation, loneliness and pain.

As we eat and drink, dance and sing

Don't forget the sick, sad and suffering around the corner and down the lane.

A mother is heartbroken.

A father is sad.

They can't buy a gift for their little girl and boy.

You may not have any money.

You may not be able to give a toy

What can you give?

Give love. Give hope. Give joy.

You may not even have a Christmas tree

You may search far and wide

Santa you may never see

Take some time out to give love to others.

Make them happy.

Don't feel sad because you can't give a gift.

Do a kind deed.

Give a cheerful word to a poor neglected soul

Give their spirit a lift.

Heal the broken hearted.

Help the lost, forsaken and lonely.

Your brother is adrift.

You may not give or receive turkey or ham

But there's something you can do.

Be kindhearted. Be sincere.

No need to be sad and blue.

Give love at Christmas.

Let it be genuine. Let it be true

And don't forget

Give it all year round too.

- Anthony E. Morgan

  • Poinsettia

Poinsettia, pretty poinsettia

Flor de la Navidad

From Mexico to Carolina

Comes this flower

From Mexico to Carolina

And now in a bower.

Symbol of Christmas

Like a star

Symbol of Christmas

From afar

Symbol of Christmas

Announcing his birth

Symbol of Christmas

Full of mirth.

Poinsettia, pretty poinsettia

Flor de la Navidad.

- Emma-June Bell

  • Farewell to Madiba Mandela

The gallant warrior is now gone

Amid raging torrents of forlorn

For the world he had indeed enthralled

By his strength behind the prison walls.


The prisoner's fame blossomed and bloomed

In Robben Island's 'pen of doom'

And Pollmoor with its mighty bars

Is now a place defamed and marred.


That speech he made from the prisoners' dock

Engineered in part a crack

That helped to make the vestibule

Into democratic rule.


The circumstances of his life

Unmasked in him in years of strife

A far more virtuous human being

Than the villain from the Boer's scene.


For who would suffer so much pain

And then decided to refrain

From returning all the blows he got?

Instead, on vengeance turned his back!


Quite a man he was indeed

For such attribute plant its seed

Deep in the breast of many and start

A revolution of the heart!


The whole world now must take a leaf

From the golden booklet of the 'chief'

For by his courage, will and charm

South Africa was by him reformed.


So now the warrior and the sage

Who endured apartheid's vicious rage

In life and death the world engaged

And has left his mark on history's page.


The magnitude of his words and deeds

Lies not in empty talks and creeds

For all who probe his work will find

South Africa's greatest natural mine.


So now before this hour decay

I must hasten now in time to lay

This wreath at Robben Island, where

Madiba entered without fear.


From Pollmoor in his garb of grace

In great triumph he left that place

And by his gentle charm and might

He led his foes to see the light.


So now the world must honour him

And their anthems to his memory sing

For if he had a thirst for blood

South Africa would have seen a flood.

- Cedric Brown

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