POEM OF THE WEEK - Country Christmas
Published:Sunday | December 29, 2013 | 12:00 AM
- 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.
II
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.
III
That speech he made from the prisoners' dock
Engineered in part a crack
That helped to make the vestibule
Into democratic rule.
IV
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.
V
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!
VI
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!
VII
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.
VIII
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.
IX
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.
X
So now before this hour decay
I must hasten now in time to lay
This wreath at Robben Island, where
Madiba entered without fear.
XI
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.
XII
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