[John Isbell]

Hi folks,

Here is a solstitial offering:


Solstice

The year has journeyed to its shortest day,
as we have journeyed to the kitchen. In
its warm environment, the day begins –
Judy is making porridge, and a stray

cookie has landed on my plate. About
this time, a bird sings. Rita in her gown
heads for the bathroom. In the busy town
of Boston, you’ll not find an hour without

cars in the street, en route from A to B.
Todd’s learning Spanish; all the older folk
are up, the young sleep on. When I awoke,
the sun was still abed, and now I see

it rising in the East, beyond the park.
These are the holidays. I’ve had my share
of what you might call grooming, and a fair
amount of cookies. They have made their mark.

22.xii.2017

[Mark McDonnell]

Headlines

Poll suggests
'Gay Jewish Atheists
Do Christmas Best'
Meanwhile
in Festive Fails
'Balloon Sculpture Nativity Scene
Causes Stir':
Inflatable Christ-child
breaks moorings,
ascends early
to avoid nails.

[John Isbell]

Grape Jelly

Heading to Lisa’s, we stopped at Trader Joe’s,
where the black ice had melted in the rain,
to purchase drink. We reached her house about
a car ride later, and took off our shoes
to greet the host - who said three sentences
or so to us in total. Our young men
moved among Lisa’s neighbors, as I sat
with Matt to speak of this and that. He asked
about our stay in Strasbourg, and I told
how Rita taught French as I crossed the Rhine
to teach my students German. There’s no need
to show a passport these days, if you’re not
en route to Hungary. This year, we plan
to take them to Vienna, and if not,
I said to Matt, we’ll head to Prague and Cracow,
which people say are lovely. Like a small
stone in a pond, Matt dropped into our chat
that thirty miles from Cracow, there is Auschwitz,
for those who care to visit. And the gears
of conversation shifted, as we talked
of what is right and what is not, of how
one teaches German, of the film Dunkirk,
of Wolf Hall, which I could not read – on page
eight or nine, the father kicks his prone
son in the head, and I put down the book.
We ate baked brie, and ham, and greeted Amy,
who’d put grape jelly on her meatballs. Matt
confided that in me – her mother’s secret.
When I met Amy, I was five or so,
there’s weight to our acquaintance. Did you put
grape jelly on your meatballs? I inquired.

24.xii.2017

[Erik Olson]

Christmas Gravitas

Like early snow, these advent spirits sail
Through door and letterbox—addressed blackmail
In dumb appeals: How shall we choose between
The blind, the lame, and deaf? The pitch is seen,
Our hearts hammered by children’s hungry eyes.
Bewildered and perturbed, we shun those cries
Only to find more envelops assail:
Save the Orangutan, Koala, Whale!
f

[RCL]

#2017

O, my dear Prodigious Elf
That merry month is here.
I madly hope You’ll gift myself
With what I’d like—this Year:

A brand new feeder for my birds
The Phoebe and the Hummer—
Happy wingèd—little—Bards
In Choirs every Summer.

On Wizards of the World’s best Words
Bestow the Wit to Weave—
Worthy webs from their Word-Hoards
That Measure Man’s beliefs.

And lastly—let One—realize
How Chill a life can be
Without those sometime—brilliant—Smiles
That rarely shine on me.

Yrs Emily D.

[Mark McDonnell]

Jingle Phil

You fuck it up, the Christmas gift.
You never mean to, but you do.
You leave it late and then they're miffed
With 'Words of Wisdom for the Loo'.

But you've been fucked up in your time
by festive ties with matching socks,
disturbing books on true-life crime
and vaguely racist cuckoo clocks.

Man hands on useless tat to man,
It sits unwanted on a shelf.
Next year you'll sort it! Have a plan!
Accept you make a useless elf.


Merry Christmas everybody!

[F.F. Teague]

Belatedly, Happy New Year to all <(:-)


Thirteenth day

On the thirteenth day of Christmas,
no gifts were sent to me;
there was nothing for the isthmus,
my home since '93.

I was clearing up the garden,
just trying to set things straight,
when I heard a, 'Beg y'pardon?'
MyTrueLove, at the gate!

'I see Amazon delivered,'
he said; I nodded, 'Yes',
while Pierre Partridge sort of shivered
then made another mess.

'Well, a thousand thanks, MyTrueLove!'
I tried to sound upbeat,
but he shrieked, for Mrs Blue Dove
was pecking at his feet.

'I suppose I went a bit mad,'
he sighed, and hung his head;
'it's just, I thought you and FitLad…?'
I laughed. 'No, no,' I said.

'Let's go in; I'll cook six omelettes.'
I smiled, and in we went,
'midst the flares of seven trompettes
and leaps of tenfold gent.

[Ann Drysdale]

Nice one, Fliss. And a Happy New Year to you, too.

[John Isbell]

Very nice, Fliss! That is a lot of omelettes.

Cheers,
John

[F.F. Teague]

Yay! Many thanks, Ann and John.

Yes, that is a lot of omelettes. And they'd be pretty big too; I'm just looking at images of goose eggs online 8-)

Of course, if you wanted an enormous omelette, you could use an ostrich egg! (I think cooking with ostrich eggs would be loud and fairly dramatic overall.)