A COVID Christmas

A COVID Christmas

Boggle, gurgle, woozle fizz!

Professor Fuzz is a science whizz.

You’ll find him in his lab for sure,

Working day and night for a COVID cure.

Cynthia Small wasn’t tall,

But she worked the wards and all,

Nursing COVID patients there.

Many knew her tender care.

Worker Lim was making time,

Manufacturing masks on a production line.

An order came for him from the top.

“Your afternoon is free so you can stop!”

When Cynthia went to her coffee room,

People everywhere dispelled the gloom,

All department stores were there around,

With Christmas Carols providing the sound.

“You cared for our colleagues and grandmas too,

So we brought the shops to you!”

In a place quite far way,

A Son looked down in love upon that day.

Although he seemed so far apart,

Somehow, he’s also in our heart.

He remembered back to a manger and stable,

Where he was born when no inn was able.

That when he had come to birth.

To bring peace to hearts and joy on earth.

Prose addendum: Here’s a fun fact for reader’s. My maternal Grandfather, Patrick Anthony Thomas “Pat” O’Reilly, was known to write verses for his mates at bowls and in the then local newpaper. He died on 1 December in the early 1950s. On 1 December 2020 I woke to the beginnings of this poem rattling around inside me!

Simon C.J. Falk  1 December 2020

Holidays for Some and Others Still It’s Christmas

This moment of the year most people take some time to pause. For some of us this is Christmas time. I have not been able to come up with a Christmas story or poem but offer, in this post, a compilation of previous years below:

Gold Grains, Golden Light

Caved Inn of Light

I Dreamed that Santa Saved the Day

The Shepherd’s Daughter

The Little Angel

The Gnome from Santa’s Home

It’ll Cut for Hay

The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

A Christmas Crib at Aleppo

 

 

I Dreamed Santa Saved the Day

I Dreamed Santa Saved the Day

 

A little fella watched the news,

And saw the images fly,

Of fires and floods and shopping queues,

And stopped and wondered why.

 

He closed his eyes and imagined hard.

That Santa was by his side.

Then when he told what happened next.

I nearly broke down and cried.

 

He said to Santa: “This cannot be!

We can’t have all this stuff!

There’s kids having a rotten Christmas!

Enough! I say, enough!”

 

“Ok” said Santa with a nod,

And a twitch that resembled a wink,

“I’ll fix a scene to give us a prod,

This will make folks think”.

 

Santa left and went away,

Back to the cold country land,

He harnessed his reindeer on his sleigh,

And gathered his merry band.

 

He saw the fires in the Land of Oz,

So he galloped to the South Pole,

With teams of penguins and other mobs,

He loaded a blimp through its hole.

 

Back he came with his load in tow,

And let the bomb bays go!

Out of the blimp came tonnes of snow,

That doused the flames below.

 

South America was next on course,

As he headed for flooded places,

He replaced his sleighs with pontoons and barges,

With plenty of rescue spaces.

 

With anacondas as living ropes,

And tapirs as pulling teams,

They saved the people who’d dashed their hopes,

Away from where rivers had burst their seams.

 

The English Midlands were next in sight,

As he headed round the earth,

He’d give them back their Christmas,

So they could have some mirth.

 

He gathered the Yorkshire badgers,

And anything that burrows,

They dug almighty ditches and trenches,

And the water went in the furrows.

 

He galloped off to the lands of war,

With special commando elves,

They took real specialised equipment,

And sorted it themselves.

 

With candy canes they clogged the barrels

Of all the enemy guns in rows,

They tied up all the terrorists,

And added bowties of Christmas bows.

 

Then Santa headed to the street,

Of all the world’s great cities,

They gave the hungry plenty to eat,

And sang carols to replace their ditties.

 

Our little fella could not believe

The sights before his eyes,

Yet it shows humanity can give real gifts,

When it really gets down and tries.

 

Simon C.J. Falk     27 December 2015

 

 

Caved Inn of Light

Caved Inn of Light

This poetry blog, ‘Simon’s Still Stanza’, exists for all kinds of poetry.  At times, because of who I am and the ministry I’m involved in, poems take on a particular tone of religious or spiritual quality.  Christmas is one of those times.  The following poem is meant for younger readers and is a bit of fun. It tries to pick up some ‘Aussie’ ways and is therefore a bit ‘ocker’. What I attempted to do was to take up some of the scene from Joseph’s musing over the story in latter days.


Caved Inn of Light

Well, my name is Joseph,

And you asked me for my view,

So I’ll try and give it ‘Aussie’ style,

Since you do like a yarn or two.

 

Well we got the summons,

From the city, the big smoke,

It came all the way from the Roman Caesar,

Back then there was no bigger bloke.

 

So we saddled up the donkey,

Took on water and our swag,

And a made a bee-line to Bethlehem,

Before too much time would lag.

 

We started in the Galilee hills,

Where wallabies or goats might hang around,

Then made our way over the flatter plains,

Where your kangaroos might stand their ground.

 

We went across a desert,

Where your scorpions might feel at home,

The winds and sand then blasted us,

We felt so dry and alone.

 

Finally we rose up to Bethlehem,

It was King David’s stomping ground,

We needed to get a room for the night,

Set off and to see what was around.

 

We knocked upon the doors of inns

Of B & B’s, hostels and all that stuff,

We couldn’t find a room to fit,

And we’d nearly had enough!

 

When we thought all was lost,

An innkeeper said: “hang about a tick.”

“We’ve got something a little private,

But you can have it if you’re quick!”

 

They led us to a cave,

Wherein a bunyip might like to hide,

It was all decked out like a stable,

With their animals set up inside.

 

I sighed within myself awhile,

And heard myself say “yes”.

Then Mary and I settled in,

To try and sort the mess.

 

It seems that they used this cave

For livestock in winter time,

It smelled like cows and horses,

Yep, the odour was a little prime.

 

But we found a little manger,

Just the right size for a kid,

And on the straw that had held a harvest

This is what we did.

 

We laid my love Mary

On straw that had fed stock,

She gave birth to her little baby,

Who had come to tend the flock.

 

Later, yes, much later,

When I was no longer present,

That baby grew and taught the flock,

Which some would come to resent.

 

Then they put an end to him,

On a cross upon a hill,

The shepherd became the butchered lamb,

And few gathered at the kill.

 

They say we go full circle,

We go back to where we began,

Well, when he died, our fella,

Got put in a cave again!

 

Blow me down, after a few of our sleeps,

They told me that he rose to life anew,

He went back with his mates to Galilee,

So their mission he could renew.

 

I’m back at the cave again,

I can hardly leave that place,

For in the glow of the firelight,

The light of the world shone on his face.

 

He was the shining light for many years,

As he helped me make and mend,

The pride and joy of his mother’s eyes,

And towards wisdom did he tend.

 

You may say this is just legend,

That I’m spinning you some bull,

You bet mate! This is real legend,

Of a life lived to the full.

 

So when gathered round the fireplace,

And you see light upon a face,

Remember the light on a kid in manger,

Who’s our light of the world and gift of grace.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 22 December 2015

 

 

 

Golden Grains, Golden Light

Golden Grains, Golden Light

Being in Australia, our Christmas is a summer experience. Light, sun, warmth, storms, grain harvest.  All feature in rural NSW.  This poem celebrates some of that experience.  It was shared at the Rotary  Gathering with Christian Leaders in Temora NSW.

Golden Grains, Golden Light

Golden grains, golden light!

In our ‘Southland Christmas’ night.

The light of Christ enters our dawn,

As we celebrate Christmas morn.

 

Storms crash by with lightning flash,

Fires then threaten the golden cash,

Cash in heads on golden stems,

All fenced and rowed within their hems.

 

In the paddocks day after day,

Golden grains formed in the hay,

Then the harvest trucks and headers strain,

Leaving golden stubble on the plain.

 

From the stubble the convoys go,

To the grain-dumps and silo,

In sun and wind and overcast sky

The waiting trucks in queue standby.

 

The golden grains go off to the mill,

And then bags and packets take their fill,

Warehouses and shops fill aisles and shelves,

Are like Santa’s presents among the elves.

 

The golden grains go in shopping trolleys,

Where families also stuff in lollies;

They go in bread stuffing of the Christmas roast,

And are in the stubbie raised in toast.

 

On that first Christmas faraway,

Some golden grains had grown the hay,

Wherein the infant Christ child lay,

The one who gave us Christmas day.

 

As the child later grew,

His followers spread to more than a few,

He taught of a planted golden grain,

That fell and died within the plain.

 

This grain rose from the earth towards the sun,

It shared in a great victory won,

A victory over death and sin,

For all of those who followed him.

 

So this Christmas we pray for peace,

For those interred to find release,

That the poor and hungry living in fright,

May wake to greet a dawning light.

 

A light of one like a golden grain,

Who was born to slake their pain,

Who like the sun will never wane,

Glowing among us like golden grain.

 

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk 12 December 2014

Repost: The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

This is a repost of a poem for an Aussie Christmas last year.  A new Aussie Christmas poem for this year Golden Grains, Golden Light!  will be available shortly.

The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

They gathered around the Christmas scene,

All those years ago;

In the cold air of Bethlehem,

In a rocky cave hollow.

 

Mary, Joseph and Jesus,

Gathered on some hay;

Amongst the rocks and animals,

On that first Christmas day.

 

Angels called to shepherds,

Who came in from fields to adore;

On entering the cave they crouched down,

Amongst the animals and straw.

 

Outside the cave in the weather,

Some sheep twitched in cold, damp fog;

But before they could get away,

Along came a kelpie dog!

 

His black coat glistened with droplets,

His ears pointed to the stars;

His eyes took stock of that restless flock,

He’d put an end to their baas!

 

He circled round the flock,

He mobbed them right in tight;

They were bunched up together,

On that first Christmas night.

 

And while the shepherds paid respect

To Jesus on the hay;

That kelpie dog served vigil,

And kept the sheep at bay.

 

That night was long and dreary,

The cold got in to their bones;

And while those inside were snug,

Sheep and dog stood on chilly stones.

 

When the night was waning,

And the sun appeared in the sky;

The shepherds emerged from the cavern,

And what did they spy?

 

A tight little mob of warm sheep,

Looking on with hungry eyes;

And a kelpie dog with a glistening coat,

Under early morning skies.

 

The shepherds looked in wonder,

And one let out a cheer:

“Bravo, our kelpie dog!

You’ve saved the day out here!”

 

The dog looked up in approval,

Giving a slobbery grin;

Then trotted off past them,

And to the cave went in.

 

He sauntered up to the manger,

Right up close he did;

“Oh no!” Cried out a shepherd,

“He’ll dribble on the kid!”

 

But the dog looked on in reverence,

He slowly bowed his head;

Then nestled down beside the Christ child,

And went to sleep instead.

 

Now some may say this is legend,

And wasn’t part of the night;

But legends survive in generations,

As well as books written right.

 

When you remember Christmas,

As an adult or as a kid;

Rest in the presence of Jesus,

Like the kelpie did.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk          Repost from 17 December 2013.

 

BeckomRestArea

The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

 They gathered around the Christmas scene,

All those years ago;

In the cold air of Bethlehem,

In a rocky cave hollow.

 

Mary, Joseph and Jesus,

Gathered on some hay;

Amongst the rocks and animals,

On that first Christmas day.

 

Angels called to shepherds,

Who came in from fields to adore;

On entering the cave they crouched down,

Amongst the animals and straw.

 

Outside the cave in the weather,

Some sheep twitched in cold, damp fog;

But before they could get away,

Along came a kelpie dog!

 

His black coat glistened with droplets,

His ears pointed to the stars;

His eyes took stock of that restless flock,

He’d put an end to their baas!

 

He circled round the flock,

He mobbed them right in tight;

They were bunched up together,

On that first Christmas night.

 

And while the shepherds paid respect

To Jesus on the hay;

That kelpie dog served vigil,

And kept the sheep at bay.

 

That night was long and dreary,

The cold got in to their bones;

And while those inside were snug,

Sheep and dog stood on chilly stones.

 

When the night was waning,

And the sun appeared in the sky;

The shepherds emerged from the cavern,

And what did they spy?

 

A tight little mob of warm sheep,

Looking on with hungry eyes;

And a kelpie dog with a glistening coat,

Under early morning skies.

 

The shepherds looked in wonder,

And one let out a cheer:

“Bravo, our kelpie dog!

You’ve saved the day out here!”

 

The dog looked up in approval,

Giving a slobbery grin;

Then trotted off past them,

And to the cave went in.

 

He sauntered up to the manger,

Right up close he did;

“Oh no!” Cried out a shepherd,

“He’ll dribble on the kid!”

 

But the dog looked on in reverence,

He slowly bowed his head;

Then nestled down beside the Christ child,

And went to sleep instead.

 

Now some may say this is legend,

And wasn’t part of the night;

But legends survive in generations,

As well as books written right.

 

When you remember Christmas,

As an adult or as a kid;

Rest in the presence of Jesus,

Like the kelpie did.

 

This poem was written for an outdoor Christmas Catholic Mass at Temora NSW.  It was an attempt at using a story in the hope it may help children enter into Christmas.

 

 

Simon C.J. Falk           17 December 2013.