Another Christmas poem for you…
Searching for Christmas
by Brian Bilston

If you like this poem… check out the others! Brian’s poetry book is called You Took the Last Bus Home: The Poems of Brian Bilston…
Another Christmas poem for you…

If you like this poem… check out the others! Brian’s poetry book is called You Took the Last Bus Home: The Poems of Brian Bilston…
… ok… I’ve been messing around with the design of this blog so… HELLO again… do let me know if things look a little out of kilt…
The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.
The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
‘The church looks nice’ on Christmas Day.
Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says ‘Merry Christmas to you all’.
And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.
And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children’s hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say ‘Come!’
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.
And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window’s hue,
A Baby in an ox’s stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?
And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,
No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare –
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
and see you all in the new year… let’s make 2020 the best one yet. Deal?

See you soon!
Last night I went to the cinema… to watch the perfect Christmas movie…
… so it goes without saying that today’s song must be….
…ah… the tinsel… the shoulder pads… the permed hair… the cheesy snowball fight… the giant sweaters….
They just don’t make them like that anymore! It was 1984 folks,… 35 years ago. Good Lord.
Enjoy!
I don’t know why I do this to myself… but the moment the calendar gets busier, the to do lists longer… my brain tricks me into thinking that I can do MORE and I can MAKE things…
Yeah right.
I should be laying in the bath in the dark with only a candle and some whale music… never mind making Christmas wreath that nobody notices pro appreciates. (Fact)
Anyway, I had started making this a few weeks ago during five minutes of optimistic calendar gazing and yesterday I forced myself to finish it. Go me.

A piece of wire, some plastic balls from IKEA and there you have it.

Hardly rocket science but fun and effective.

The door looks festive and everybody’s happy aside probably from Mr M who, for you that don’t know, the inspiration for Dickens famous Christmas hating character Scrooge.
As I’m typing I’m anxiously waiting for the Christmas tree to be delivered… THEN the fun can begin…
I felt a Funeral in my Brain (280) – by Emily Dickinson
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My mind was going numb –
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –
… I found this poem while listening to this talk…:
… one of my fave…
Let’s go with an old one today…
Life by Charlotte Bronte
LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall ?
Rapidly, merrily,
Life’s sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily,
Enjoy them as they fly !
What though Death at times steps in
And calls our Best away ?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O’er hope, a heavy sway ?
Yet hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair !
Unrelated photo. Good song.
by Michael Morpurgo.
Famous writer. The boys have read quite a few of his books, and I’ve skimmed through a couple to find out what they were reading (anyone else doing that?)… he’s quite a prolific author, and I’ve also seen one of his plays, not the famous one ‘War horse’ but ‘the butterfly lion’ which I really enjoyed.
Mixed feelings about this one in particular. I read it because it was part of my College class on children’s literature.
It’s the story of Michael who grows up fatherless in the years after the war, with a devoted French mother and two eccentric aunts who’d adopted and raised his father, orphan from the war. Or so he thought. Family secrets come to light, he has to revised all he’d ever known about his life and he finally learn who he is and where he comes from. So far so good.
In true Morpurgo’s style the story goes back and forward in time and swaps points of view too, which could potentially be quite challenging for some children… although the layout is really quite ‘childish’, with big spaces between the lines and lots of hand drawn illustrations. Weird mix.
On the good side:
On the bad side:
I know that Mr Morpurgo didn’t mean to sound racist, I’m sure he isn’t, but expressions like this one shouldn’t be used. It doesn’t teach children to value everyone regardless of what they look like or come from, differences need to be acknowledged and accepted not swept under the carpet. Does it make sense?
One very good thing about this novel though is that he took inspiration from the real life story of Walter Tull, one of the first black professional football players in the UK, and the first black combat officer of the British Army, despite Army rules stating that officers ‘must be of pure European descent’ to old any actual command or power. He died in action and was put forward for a Military Cross but it was never awarded, most likely because of his race. It’s a story that needs to be told.

And I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound sexist either… but he seems to be better at writing about boys than girls/female characters… boys are always the heroes… (at least in the books I’ve read) and the women/girls are always the supporting characters. Even animals seem to have more importance!
Mmmmhhhhh
What should I make of this?