1419

Christmas is here; the cards all tell the story

And decorations fill the empty space

Where day by day the Christ-child and his glory

Should radiate his peace throughout the place;

But even as we sing the shepherd's tale

With angels bringing light to all the earth

The violence of man seems to prevail

And no one cares what single lives are worth.

Sing then, sing aloud for all to hear

Overcome the cries of sin and pain,

Purge away the terror and the fear

For Christ is born in Bethlehem again.

Brian Hick December 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 15.12.25

 1415

The first week of Advent

Time to mix the pud

Order up the turkey

And everything that's good.

The second week of Advent

Have you got the tree?

How about the presents

For Dot and Aunty B?

The third week of Advent

Panic setting in

Haven't done the  Christmas cards;

Oh, where will I begin?

The fourth week of Advent

Presents round the tree

All the food is in the fridge

Time for a G&T.

Christmas Eve, it's quiet

For the children are in bed

Midnight Mass on tele

And carrot by the shed.

Christmas Day is dawning

And suddenly you're here

With Angel voices calling

To put away all fear.

Brian Hick December 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 24.11.25

 1335

Boxing Day 2013

Suddenly it's over

And the noise, and bustle and the expectation

Fade into wrapping paper, cold turkey and sprouts.

Peace, so sung about, descends

On our streets where lights still flash in silence,

Waiting for the New Year to erupt

And move us on to weeks of work,

Winter greyness and normality.

Shopping returns to the Tesco list

Of stuff we always buy,

Confounded only when they move the aisles.

And church? The slight excitement of the snow

Which trapped the preacher outside Tunbridge Wells

Is soon forgotten in the round

Of meetings, practices and minor arguments.

And Christmas? Just another passing phase -

A date, a day to get through like the rest?

Or did this Christmas shock us a bit,

Realising God is here with us,

Though we so often act

As if Jesus were for Christmas -

Not for life.

Brian Hick December 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 22.1.25

 1233

Christmas Day

It's eight o'clock

And Santa left the toys while George and Henry slept,

Although they swore they'd stay awake to see him.

Being boys who think that he is real,

But need more Proof

To bolster up the simple joys of ripping open presents.

And the poor?

Across a fragile world the day arrives,

The same as any other,

Without hope of food or sanitation,

Where the flies stand more chance of survival,

And the children grope through what has been discarded from our lives

To find the fragments that might mean you cope.

Thank you that George and Henry will not need

To sieve through rubbish so that they can feed;

But what of me, who sees the fractured earth

And yearns to give creation its true worth?

Brian Hick December 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 30.12.24

1330

A shepherd's nativity experience.

You know me;

When I'm working nights

I don't touch a drop,

Not a drop.

So when I tell you I saw him

Clear as I can see you

You know I'm not having a laugh.

We were up by the beacon,

Close to midnight,

And everything was calm.

The others had wrapped themselves up

In their cloaks and drifted off.

I'm no star gazer but it was very bright

And that comet that's been here since September

Seemed brighter than ever.

Then it happened;

Not sure what

But out of nowhere

There was this

Angel.

No, don't laugh,

You weren't there

So you didn't see it;

But I did.

You know me;

I've travelled a lot,

Met all sorts;

There's not a type

That I've not seen;

But this was different.

This was...

Well, that's the point.

I don't know what it was;

But I know it wasn't

Normal.

Then I heard a voice

Told me not to worry

Told me to go back home-

The sheep would be okay-

And look for a baby

Who would be

The answer to everything.

Yes, everything.

So I did.

Of course you think I dreamt it

But I woke up the others and told them

And the light just go brighter and brighter

Like low winter sun blazing through the trees.

Dazzling.

And when I got back home

There was this girl,

Unmarried, thrown out of her home,

With a baby, scarce a day old.

But she didn't seem worried.

I thought she was simple

Yet she spoke as if she knew.

She just said

All will be well

And that we were not to worry.

So I didn't

And I don't.

And things are different.

I can't say how

But I just know they are.

Well, you know me;

I was always the pessimist

But somehow, something, has changed.

Brian Hick Christmas 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 20.12.24

 1231

Christmas at Pissarro's for the Church Next Door

Sixteen hungry people wait while the wine is poured.

Everything's been ordered so that we can start -

As soon as we are seated - to satisfy each part.

Who has ordered mushrooms? How many for the trout?

Luckily we have a list so no one is in doubt

And by the time we've finished, with coffee or mint tea,

We've just time to put our feet up before we need to be

Seated in St Matthew's where, led by the Big Choir,

The annual carol service will warm us and inspire

Thoughts of peace and harmony, of friendships new begun

Till we all join with Tiny Tim, God Bless us, Everyone!

Brian Hick December 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 16.12.24

 1070

Humbug

Christmas is upon us but the thrill

Hides itself behind the tat

The tinsel and the supermarket till.

Christmas is upon us.

Just for once, can we accept that

3D's not essential and life will

Not cease if we fail to buy the cat

His own television, while we fill

The groaning board with puddings, plus a vat

Of cheap Rioja in hope to assuage the bill?

Christmas is upon us.

Brian Hick December 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 26.12.23

 1069

Christmas is coming

Four weeks to go - the advent candle lit -

And everybody has a little list

Of things that must be done

Of presents bought

Of menues sorted

Childen calmed

Old carols dusted down.

Three weeks to go - the second candle lit -

The turkey's in the freezer

The distant presents packed

The children's lists get longer

And the Bristol Cream sneaks back

To lurk on the kitchen table

Next to the fresh mince pies.

Two weeks to go - the third candle appears -

Panic of the gentle kind

Invades the daily calm

Piles of parcels in the hall

Decorations from the loft

Must check the lights before we leave

For the Carol Concert at the primary school.

One week to go - the final candle lit -

Cards have all been posted

Parcels are on their way

Decorations all in place

Cakes and puddings in the larder

Piles of chocolate logs and coins

With the Advocat and Creme de Menthe.

Christmas Eve; and it's all here -

All the fuss and angst and jostle

All the waiting and the tears

All the money we have lavished

All the extra food and beers -

For what?

An annual family blowout?

An annual visit to Aunt Flo?

A story we heard in our childhood?

A carol recalled from long ago?

Is it no more than sleighs and rheindeer

An excuse to eat and drink too much,

Or do the Solstice and the Star-shine

Echo,with their silent touch,

A love that goes beyond a baby,

Far beyond religion's crutch,

Towards a truth that makes us human

Love is all - for God is such.

Brian Hick Christmas 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 25.12. 2023

 1064

Outside the Wickford Diner

In the pre-Christmas fog

An accordionist

And my head is filled

Avec les Disque Bleu au Quai des Orfevres.

Brian Hick December 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 21.12.23

880

The Light of Life has come into the world;

I feel it in the darkness of my heart

Battered by the stress which night has hurled.

The Light of Life

Has ever known that every frozen part

Of body, mind and soul will in time yield

Before the Love that's been there from the start

Acknowledging I have no strength to shield

My reason from depression's vicious dart

And will accept with joy so Love may wield

The Light of Life.

Brian Hick December 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 21.12.22

 876

What shall I write for Christmas Day.

          When all the world with festive cheer

         Has set aside the need to hear

A truth that might show us the way

To face the things that go awry

          Realising that this love

          Does not descend from heaven above

But radiates from those who try,

Against the vanity and greed

          Which fill our lives on working days

          To Love, even though these quieter ways

Seem impotent to the world's creed.

So I will write of love which greets,

          Unnoticed by the streaming crowds

          Whose stoic faces are too proud

To see the homeless in the street;

Of love which puts another first

          Regardless of the cost to them

          And will do the same again

For there's no end to Love's deep purse.

Of Love which does not plan ahead

          Or ask that favours be returned

          As if all gifts must be earned

Accounts rendered, contracts read

And sealed on pain of retribution

          Knowing that there is no reward

          For kindness or the loving word

Freely given in restitution.

Of Love which takes us as we are

          Unaware of faults or failure

          Unconcerned by past behaviour

Seeing nothing but the star

That shone upon us at our birth

          Bringing grace to every hour

          We breath and giving us the power

To celebrate what we are worth.

Brian Hick December 2010

©copyright Sally Hick 15.12.22

 We've only just recovered

From Halloween's dread hosts

With lots and lots

Of tiny tots

Dressed up as ghouls and ghosts,

When on comes 5 November

And Thursday's bonfire night

So we've a week

Of bangs and squeeks

Before there's some respite

From public demonstrations

Of forced frivolity

But now I fear

Christmas is near

And shops throughout the nation

Are wall to wall with carols

All Jingle Bells and sleighs

To make us buy

Another pie

Or Cadbury's Milk Tray

So, in the first week of November

The shops are full of cheer

With Santa hoods

And Christmas puds

And crates of Yuletide beer

X x x x x x x x

Brian Hick 11.11.09

©copyright Sally Hick 31.10.22

 The Tree is stripped, the decorations gone

Christmas is over for another year

And life can settle down without the fear

Of heartburn or hangover.  Now upon

The mantlepiece the bills replace the cards

And overdraughts are balanced as the weeks

Of winter drizzle trickle on in aches

More psychological than real. Towards

The end of January Burn's night holds

A glimpse of hope in the surrounding gloom

And plans for Valentine's, which all too soon

Will fill our shops, help to offset our colds.

            How strange that after all the preparation

            Christmas warrants such scant observation.

Brian Hick 8.1.09

©copyright Sally Hick Jan 2022

 Christmas Eve

So, Brother Fox, where are you tonight?

While we indoors suffuse a Christmas glow

Outside dark rain has washed away the snow

And shrivelled up the dulling winter light.

It cleared away your markers place with care

Each evening when you pass this way to take

Our offerings cast out in the wake

Of more extravagance than you could bare.

            And as I turn down just one more mince pie

            Idling with a glass of Cote de Rhone

            I wonder if you've found the Turkey bone

            I put out earlier hoping I might spy

            Your fleeting visit like a welcome ghost

            Bringing a Solstice blessing to the host,

Brian Hick December 2009

©copyright S Hick December 2021

           Why

        do we get

     hot cross buns

 all the year round

but mince pies only

             at

       Christmas? 

Brian Hick December 2009

©copyright S Hick December 2021

 Why can't they celebrate Christmas

The way we used to do,

The Queen at three

And then high tea

And grandad in the loo?

Why can't they celebrate Christmas

The way it was of old

With stockings hung

And loads of fun

And children doing what they are told?

Why can't they celebrate Christmas

As it was in the past

With holly berries

And tiny sherries

And drunks at midnight mass?

Why can't they celebrate Christmas

When church was the place to be

To sing and pray

And spend the day

Without wall-to-wall TV?

Why can't they celebrate Christmas

Without the need to dabble

For nowadays

Nativity Plays

Are Whoops-a-daisy-angel?

Why can't they celebrate Christmas

Innocently, without care,

Before Dr Who

And Superman II

And Snowmen walked in the air?

And why can't I celebrate Christmas

For what it is today

With family, friends

And all that pretends

To 21st century ways?

For then I could celebrate Christmas

Without any complaint or moan

And raise a cheer

For all to hear

Merry Christmas to everyone!

Brian HIck 25.12.08

©copyright S Hick December 2021