So long awake on Christmas morn

So long awake on Christmas morn

So long awake on Christmas morn
Alone, the clock slow ticking
Till sweet relief, her joy
His happy chorus hearing
Hello Lily! Delighted in his cot
Now grandparents too
Ready to share the magic
Stockings lumpy bulging
Ditto pillow cases full
So many gifts so many
Loving them, blessed children
Family’s soul and heart
Now watch his wonder
Battery-powered (though not of course supplied)
The tiny train in figure eight
Or fire engine accessorised with sirens
And with lights
While Lily’s cool our tweenage girl
With gadgetry and games
And special gifts her father chose
The parents’ joy is rooted here
A happy Christmas created
Hand-me-down and honed
Through time and generations
Stir in The Snowman on the box
And candlelit from Kings, the carols
Too much drinking, wine in hamper
Delicious sent from family abroad, missing
Dan and Hayley, little Zach
Too many years not here
Toasting us far distant under summer skies
While Granny tearful, grieves for them
And ham on toast tradition
Brings to mind her dearest dad
So many gone or absent
But grateful, glad for what they have
A family together
Warmth and homes
Enough for all their needs
The lucky ones, the fortunate
This year’s Christmas morn

27th December 2009, Walburton nr Arundel, for Dan

Following that Star

Following that Star

One man takes a journey
On a plane, Christmas day
Bound for Detroit
Though looking back later
We will trace his path
From Nigeria to London
Picking up allegiance to Liverpool F.C
And three others like him
Young, return home to midwinter Wiltshire
In coffins, union flag draped
Slow processing through the silent crowd
Solemn in the grey rain
There are clues, Hansel’s breadcrumbs
On microchips and databases
Dropped across the globe
The journeys, life to death
Are traceable and plotted
Clear as day, black as night
As the pace -of -camel plod across the desert
The Christmas Magi made
Guided or misguided, following that star
How powerful the push and pull
The call to arms
Glad sacrifice of life and limb
And all love’s wondrous possibility
Reduced to but a single thought
Death carried in a cunning form
Cleverly on a plane
Oh we may track geography
With GPS and such
But how you get from God of love
(He’s clearly there in gospels and Koran)
To lust for mass destruction
Self seen in glorious vision
Bringing Armageddon home
Now that’s a harder route to plot
Not evidently straightforward
A to bloody B
So is the Devil in there
Tempting man to do his worst
Or is our planet godless
Guided/misguided/unguided
And this Christmas
What of love?

29th December 2009, Brighton

The Magic Box

I will put in my box
Your father’s voice, glad tidings!
Almond eyes blinking at the world
Carcassonne shimmering in high August heat
Lilies and roses your dad, so grateful, gave your mum
I will put in the box
Sweet angel baby, quiet star
At wedding celebration
Two families smiling, happy to meet you
Asleep peaceful, rocked by Grandy
Or by Texan Chuck
Your delighted ‘Gwanny-Gwandy!’
As you learned to walk and talk
To laugh and dance
In Hounoux southern sun

I will put in my box
The little girl, pigtails, si mignonne
Beloved in two languages
Your declaration of love
‘Same like the rabbit granny’
Up to the moon, bright star
I will put in my box
Bravery on Mirapoix pony,
Swimming in Montbel, wobbling on your bike,
And when mummy had to go
Both of you sad to be apart
I will put in my box
Story time, Grandy always your choice
(But I do love you Granny...)
Bath time, morning in bed time,
Let’s pretend, me the mummy
Bear, you the cub
Endless make believe in your head
With songs and facts historical
Geography of France

And the walls will be made of
Your Lily gift, to make friends
Keep friends, to calm and mediate
With in each corner the light
You brought into our world
And all of it wrapped in the dear
Love you inspired us all to feel

The Bubbles on the Tree

He’s two years old
And while he sleeps
Excitement-wearied, in the afternoon
Some magic is afoot
His parents dress the Christmas tree
To glow and sparkle
Glass baubles, white lights
In careful garlanding
Now see the wonder in his eyes
Reflections dancing there
His cry delighted -
Look that mummy- oh-
The bubbles on the tree!

We’ll hang the moment
Magical, with others just as bright
Like parents tearful
Both sides of the world
Seeing Santa with their child
Adults conspiring set on make–believe
Annual re-creation
Of remembered Christmas past
They shine and shimmer
Lit again, a million frosty stars

12th August 2009, on autoroute to Dieppe

The Better Angels

The Better Angels
Copenhagen

Bright baubles dancing on a thread
Translucent in suspense
Each one capturing a light
Floating fragile as soap bubbles
Bursting from the pipe
A child’s breath held within
Or glassy shimmering of frost flowers
Winter’s poignant art
Figurative

So Lincoln’s lovely words, summoning
The better angels of our nature
Strung in hope, Tibetan prayer flags
Across the world in newsprint
A wish, a plea
To those portentous gathered
In Copenhagen, two hundred
Suited, serious, saviours of the planet
And will they hear the poetry
And see the vision there
Floating fragile
This moment this time, just
Within our grasp?

December 8th 2009, Hounoux

Dad

Dad

Tomorrow Dad

The sixth birthday

Marked only by December flowers

Left to shiver

On your small plot, with tears

You the constant gardener

Who expected little

But gratefully received

One certain style of pipe

Gold Block tobacco

In pleasing golden tin

Slippers with an outdoor sole

A gardening tool

And music music music

Then- was it for your eightieth?-

New system and a headset

Where you could go to dream

I miss you still

My perfect model

How-to-be a dad

Memory not dimmed

But no more rosy than the truth

Just one more thing you've taught me

With physics self-belief and maths

For you and me there's Afterlife

Love still beyond the grave

1st December 2009, Flight Toulouse-Gatwick. I.M George Mc Donald 02/12/1914-22/08/2004

A net to catch the moonlight

A net to catch the moonlight

I'm boarding in a panic

Pen-less

How then store them

The words, pour them

Jostling restless

Infants in a line

Impatient for the freedom bell

Here's woe on woe, serious static

Interference in the air

Two languages, no sense

Babbled gabbled Gate 35

In France, no chance

The line the crocodile

The queuing orderly

So fly the words

The twilight starling sky

Hay seeds and dandelion clocks

A rain of parachutes

Minute

Sycamores in random reel

On helicopter blades

And some will fall

And some will float

Or vanish in the air

A net to catch the moonlight

A rainbow in a jar

Storm captured in a rainstick

A poem on a plane

December 1st 2009, flight Toulouse-Gatwick