A couple more fragments from the poem I posted parts of yesterday:
Christmas Morning
Santa hasn’t let us down: look how
he’s stuffed the stockings
full of trinkets and tangerines,
games and gifts and puzzles –
enough to keep the kids
from worrying Mum who’s busy
in the kitchen; enough, we hope,
till everyone is ready
for their presents after lunch.
A few fragments from a long and rather rambling seasonal poem:
Planning ahead
Mindful since the summer sales
of nieces & nephews, great aunts
& ageing uncles, I have squirrelled away
a score or more of little packages;
nondescript bundles and boring
plastic carriers are tucked
on the top shelf of my wardrobe, stuffed
under woollens and jumpers, hidden,
made invisible by dullness.
Referring to Google for help with an article, I find a new doodle. The mouse-over text tells me we’re celebrating “Día internacional de la mujer” – presumably I get that in Spanish as it’s my browser language.
Years ago (in our world before digital cameras, hence no photos) we were asked by a friend to make a costume for his son for the school carnival celebration. I don’t really know why he thought we would be good people to ask, but clearly as bar owners he and his wife had little free time for handicrafts.
He gave us a cardboard box and told us what the costume should be, but the details were up to us. Several rolls of aluminium foil later, and with the addition of such details as stick-on dollar signs, a coin slot and tray, and a dangling electric plug, we had created a rather wonderful one-armed bandit that won the prize for best costume. Continue reading “costumes and customs”
don't confuse the narrator 