Gosh December seems an age away but with the ice and snow that has covered Shropshire for most of January and February it seems like only yesterday.
However, it was some months ago and with me cancelling the meeting in January because of the weather, we didn't get to find out the results of our December's challenge until February's meeting.
As usual Wrekin Writers' excelled themselves when they tackled the subject 'it was the 24th December. During our read around, I flinched, I really didn't want the job of judging them but fortunately and bless her, my vice chair Barbara Groom offered to do the job for me.
So the results are as follows
1st - Dean King
It was the 24th of December
The day before the birth,
The day before your saviour came
To topsy turve earth.
And every year you’ll celebrate
The ancient eastern neonate,
And in his name you’ll spread the blame
To sanctify your hate.
It was the 24th of December
Myrrh, frankincense and gold,
The day before you heard
The greatest story ever told.
And every year you’ll cleanse your sins
With pious carols, pious hymns,
But in his cause you’ll make your wars
And justify your whims.
It was the 24th of December
They call in Christmas Eve;
The saviour myth a monolith
That flatters to deceive.
2nd - Angeline Wheeler
Tis the 24th December and I’m on the shelf
They’ve gone to the pub so I’m all by myself
Presents are wrapped and stacked by the door
I’m feeling half cut better sit on the floor
Now where’s that bloke that I meet once a year
He has a big belly, so fully of beer, I mean cheer.
He has a white beard, ooh how it tickles
He’s been at the pies ugh and the pickles
A great big softy who arrives with the snow
On transport he hides so they don’t see him go.
I hear the key turn and the light shines through the crack
Please be quick Nick, just hurry, they’re back
His eyes sparkle as he tips me the wink
Disappears up the chimney before I can blink.
Too much sherry I guess conjured this sight
But like a whisper is carried on the wind tonight
Happy Christmas to all
And to all a goodnight.
THE SACK
“It was the 24th December. Nearly midnight!” His pleading eyes were driving little wooden screws into her heart.
“All it takes is a little creativity, Nicholas.”
“I did make you a card.”
She dropped the pathetic construction into the snow. “If you were still up to the job you would have given me a sack full of wonderful things.”
“In an hour?”
“Well, that is precisely my point.” She climbed into the sleigh and looked down on the old fool. With that silly white beard and portly belly he was totally unsuited.
“The next Father Christmas selected will need to find the impossible a little less … Challenging.”
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