Recalling Christmas in the past:
the time I mixed my drink—
a cocktail, “Everything we have”…
I puked at lunch. I think
you ate your meal, despite the stink!
Another time, our puppy dog
tore gifts beneath the tree.
A nasty whiff: we didn’t spot
the poop till half past three.
He also did a stream of pee.
The gifts that didn’t make the grade:
the gear that never fits
(cheap underwear, elasticless),
and broken stuff in bits—
our Christmases without the glitz.
The years have flown and now you’re gone.
I pat your empty chair,
and face another Christmas now,
just wishing you were there—
a time to smile and not despair.
Jack Horne lives in Plymouth, England and works for the local theatre. Writing is his main interest.
Well done, Jack. I lost my father last year so the last stanza was especially moving. A wonderful reminder that even when we’ve lost someone, we can still treasure the memories of past Christmases spent together.
Regardless of whether the subject-matter is personal to you, or just an idea you conceived for a poem . . it’s a nice piece of work, Jack. The ‘memories’ (puking, puppy, etc) enable the reader at once to feel the sentiment of the piece . . which then allows the last stanza to have the maximum effect.
I also like the form of the piece. I wouldn’t say it’s unusual; but it’s certainly not one I see often. Well-written; clear diction; strong rhymes . . a jolly good effort. Well played.
Clever poem that segues from comedy to sadness in the last stanza. Well done.
Clever piece that segues from comedy to sadness in the last stanza. Well done.