humour, poems

A Christmas poem

A tangle of wires and musty glued pasta reindeers,

Tumble without ceremony from the loft hatch

It is still July

Christmas started so early this year it was 

called late Christmas 

or mid Crimbo for its proper title

People stand next to pseudo sheds and punt a tenner

For a standard lager in a festive glass,

Which you can keep if you like

But no one does

They scoff large sausages

Which are German

And made of minced yuletide

Festive gin flavoured gin sits under the stairs

In a Christmas space, fermenting 

We post cheap cards round the street

Hoping the neighbours aren’t in

Christmas day lasts 3 seconds of paper, a big Sunday roast and a hangover

And then the loveliness of satiated family

Settle in and prepare for

Halloween as the bulbs of Spring

Wrap themselves together

And refuse to light up

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