Fire and Ice

This was last year’s attempt at a Christmas poem, and it didn’t exactly come out very jinglebellsy – although it does use the word “Christmas”! With this in mind, I’m keeping it well away from Christmas and posting it in May. Enjoy!


The angel stood on the patio,

his feathers buttered and heavy.

He was not the angel we’d had in mind.

He was winter with a blown halo.


He was the sum of our moods – hot and popping,

spitting in fire like pigskin.

He was white ash and burnt marshmallow,

crick-cracking. His smile was an ice-flow.


He turned once. He kept turning.

He was a Christmas fairground.

We threw roasting-nuts. We won nothing –

just the sizzle-spin of his eyebrow.


Round and round, wings greasy,

muscles strained, steaming and sallow,

he yelled like a Mexican wrestler

until the hail came. Hallelujah. 


Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

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Dark December

It’s the time of year where everything is supposed to be bright and shiny… but it’s dark, we’re tired, there’s too much going on, and sometimes it just gets a bit much…

Dark December

This is the time of year,
When the ice slides in and cracks my veneer,
And the drear of the grey sodden skies leads my eyes,
To where sanctuary lies…
In the dark.

This is the time of year,
When the howling nights punch a path to my fear,
And the mere thought of company speeds my retreat,
Craving solitude sweet…
In the dark.

This is the time of year,
Which has made its name out of merciless cheer,
And the sheer expectations that blare in my mind,
Cause my thoughts to unwind…
In the dark.

This is the time of year,
When I long for the clamour to just disappear,
But the tears crowd my eyes as the chaos crowds me,
It will not let me be, not even…
in the dark.

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Photo by Eric Gilkes on Unsplash