At the End of Christmas Day

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome back to another Yuletide Special.

Today’s poem penned by the wonderful poet Heather Mary Sullivan still has the cynical theme running through these seasonal posts but it’s warm and hilarious.

See how many memories flood back for you. It certainly took me back. Read on

At the End of Christmas Day

Another Christmas over

The turkey bones are bare

The tree has shed its needles

And it’s looking rather bare!

Granny’s in her rocking chair

She’s singing cos she’s merry

A paper hat across her face

Cos she’s overdosed on sherry!

The Christmas pud was set ablaze

When we smothered it in brandy

Grandad’s telling dirty jokes

After drinking half a shandy!

There are no more pigs in blankets

The pringles have gone soft

Poor auntie Carol’s peed her pants

Always happens when she coughs!

The kids are watching top of the pops

To see who’s topped the charts

Dad keeps shifting in his chair

And wafting sprouty farts.

Someone’s hidden the remote control

There’s a huge queue for the loo

I took the dog out for a walk

And there’s tinsel in his poo!

We’ve opened all our presents

With oohs and aahs and smiles

I got jewellery, clothes and chocolates

And some ointment for my piles!

The mince pies have been eaten

My sisters on the gin

My bloke keeps scratching his balls like mad

How did he get glitter on his foreskin?

The cat’s come home now they’ve all gone

Curled up traumatised in her bed

So that’s another Christmas over

Where are the pills for my aching head?

Heather Mary Sullivan

Wasn’t that a terrific poem, PL’s. Thank you so much, Heather for conjuring up those memories.

Treat yourself to Heather’s hilarious collection

Contact me if you would like a copy, or the lady herself on Facebook.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry Yuletide action real soon….

Yawntide

Hello Poetry Lovers

I know! I know! We’re still in November but I couldn’t resist sneaking a Yuletide piece in here.

Now, I’m sorry (or am I?) that its on the pessimistic side and I promise to write a more positive one shortly.

However, the older we get, the less magical Christmas becomes. Perhaps because we hark back to our childhood and the excitement of it all. It just becomes flat the older we get.

Anyway do read on.

Yawntide

Yuletide is coming and the nut roast is getting fat

intense Christmas shopping to get loads of tat

Buying edible bargains that won’t survive next Sunday

and obligatory chocolate coins that end up being thrown away

because let’s face it, they taste quite vile

but somehow you have to go that extra mile

Driving you to the kid’s Selection Box

while you dream of receiving designer frocks

The family leave half their Christmas dinner

while you wash up, you promise you’ll get thinner

Christmas night has a taste of the anti-climactic

But come the Boxing Day party, you’ll get paralytic

H Moulson 2025

Well, that was a bit on the miserable side, wasn’t it, PL’s. So please send in your own Yuletide pieces to eclipse this cynicism. Answers on a postcard please …..

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon….