Tuesday, 24 December 2019

Twas The Night

‘Twas the night before, the night before Christmas,
at silly o'clock in the morning.
All the humans are sleeping; except the blasted mice!
The stockings are hung all over the floor;
I have the washing piled behind the old door.
The children are sleeping all snug in their beds;
With visions of Gary and grapes dancing round in their heads,
Me in my wellies and Jerome in his bed,
Thoughts of the night shift, swirling around in my head.
When out in the garden there arose such a din
I sprang through the door, whacking my chin;
Away down the garden I flew like a demon,
Drooling and wobbling, luckily nobody could see me.
The moon adding lustre to the puddles and mud;
My face aching with the just received thud,
When, what to my watering eyes should arrive;
But a huge black Phoebe and Dick just behind.
I couldn't move fast, I am not so lively or quick,
But I knew in a moment it must be a trick.
More rapid than dinner time, Phoebe did run,
With Dick in pursuit, trying to head butt her bum;
A huge flapping sheet, gripped in her strong jaws,
No doubt ripped from her shed or the floor.
"Oi, you little git, What have you done?"
As I slipped and slid and started to run;
Wheeling about the garden, in the dead of the night;
Fighting to remain upright with all my might,
Trying to snatch the tarpaulin from a maniac pig;
With a calf in pursuit, almost doing a jig,
All the others then came at a run;
Obviously not wanting to miss any fun.
"Oi, Blossom! Oi, Rupert! Oi, Bean! and Teddy!
Move, Gonzo! Move, Dick! Move Gretchin and Phoebe!"
To the top of the garden, then round the old tree;
Face first in the mud, then cracking my knee,
I wasn't impressed or filled with holiday laughter;
Phoebe was squealing and Dick still chased after.
"Now piss off! get away! go to bed all!
This really isn't very funny at all!"
The geese starting to gaggle, in the field the cry started,
"I suppose everyone's up now, may as well get the day started,"
With a glance at my cry, Phoebe flew to her bed;
Leaving the sheet wrapped around Dick's confused head,
And then, in a flash the rain started to pour;
I made a mad dash for the kitchen back door,
Forgetting alas, the blasted fairy lights;
That I hadn't had time to put at the right height,
Strangling myself at a lolloping run;
Still, drooling, half limping and now wheezing along,
I collapsed in a heap on the stone kitchen floor;
Hearing the garden folk, laughing I'm sure!
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the stone stairs Azra did bound,
Running to the back door to gain her relief;
She let out a pee in a squirly motif.
The mice continued to scuttle and lightly dance;
The humans all snored and dreamed of the chance;
To be free of all horror, oppression and pain,
While I listened to the earthlings all settle again.
I picked up the toys and fed the fire a log;
Switched off the lights and kissed the old dog,
Climbing the stairs, I stifled a yawn,
Sending a wish to all those new born,
To know justice, kindness, compassion and love,
For at this time of year many do suffer;
So spread around heartfelt peace and compassion.
I climb up to bed and I bid you adieu,
To all my friends and enemies too


*Ideas taken from: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

Friday, 6 December 2019

Something Dark Glitters

The world is full of richness and colour,
No sister animal should be without her counterpart brother,
There can be no action without consequence,
Whether delivered swiftly or in recompense.
As the waves crash into the oceans,
The tides pulled by the moon with sweet devotion,
The sirens of the sea weep with sorrow,
As the deep is ravaged by the undertow.
As the petals on a flower clasp one another,
One bee's flight pronounced as nectar gathered,
The forests and hedgerows that should be voluptuous,
Have cankered growth, but birdsong rapturous.
As the sun scorches the raindrops from the bows,
The wildlife scuttles and hides within shadows,
Amidst what should be peaceful, something gathers,
Age-old darkness that chatters and staggers.
Hidden within this bounty in plain, lurid, sight,
Is a troublesome child that acts like a blight,
A form of animal that cannot be stopped,
It knows no bounds and has soon to be dropped.
Nature is happy to find her bountiful balance,
As the leaves continue to fall in glorious radiance,
This child of hers will learn to change,
Or be wiped forever from Nature's range.
So while the spiders continue to spin and weave,
The crabs continue to scuttle from the sea,
The dewy grass collects crystal beads,
This child of destruction sows black, rotten seeds.
It cannot be long until Nature's song,
Decides enough is enough, man should be gone,
But until that time is due to pass,
Enjoy the smoke on the wind and the scorched grass.

~ Miranda Elliott