I Am Your Christmas Present

And I hope that all your Christmas wishes will come true.

I am your Christmas present and I’m coming home to you.

I am the Christmas present for your loved ones far away

I am the fall of snow that arrives on Christmas day

I am the socks, the box of chocs, the tie you give to Dad

I am the Christmas joke that cheers you up if you feel sad

I am the chestnuts roasting around an open fire

I am the DVD Super-deluxe edition of The Wire

I am Mr Tesco keeping Christmas dreams alive

I am the grocer on the High Street hoping that he can survive

You may say I’m mass consumerism, but I’m only having fun

I am the future because IT’S ONLY JUST BEGUN

I am ten thousand Kindle books travelling by post

I’m the letter up the chimney, the X-box you want the most

I’m expensive silver wrapping paper covered in gold stars

I’m the CO2 emissions from six hundred million cars

Right now I am a turkey, but soon I will be meat

I am a child in the slums, I am a beggar in the street
I’m your credit card, the debt you know you cannot pay

I’m a baby in a manger and I just won’t go away

I’m the Minister for War learning someone else’s lines

I’m the money spent on missiles, spent on guns and spent on mines

I am the bullet heading for a young man’s head

I’m a message to his mother. I’m afraid your son is dead.

And I hope that all your Christmas wishes will come true.

I am your Christmas present and I’m coming home to you.

Christmas Visitor

Guess who’s coming on Christmas Eve?

His beard is snowy white.

We’ve got to get the house all ready.

It will be a pretty sight.

He’s my very favourite person

It was a shame he robbed a bank

But now he’s out of prison

It’s my favourite Uncle Frank

Half Finished

Presents never sent

In the bottom of the wardrobe

Addressed envelopes for unwritten letters

Notes on the back of photographs

Few laughs. A feeling of dread

As the illness approaches

Someone you love tied to the railway track

And you are helpless

But why am I tied to the track, you ask

Shaken like the welcome mat

And all your memories

Scatter like the silver stars on my eighth birthday

Silver turns grey.
At night you worry – is the door locked?

Crossword puzzles become confusing, are left

Half finished, along with half-knitted hats

Sure everyone is old, but you don’t know why

You are in the home.

It’s not your home

And you cry. You don’t ask for much

You’re perplexed and puzzled.

Why have you been abandoned

By your family?

And we take you to the sea, to Sheerness

And it’s beautiful, you say, looking over the marsh

For you’ve forgotten about the oncoming train

And the grey rain turns to fog

Dad, he walked out, you think

When he died – your joy was gone

Your life was half finished

And now you must finish it alone

Sleeping Giants

Sleeping Giant

Thunder Bay

Rock Formation

Landfall

Sleeping Giant

Red Lake

Piles of dead mattresses

Landfill

Power Plays

Hydro-electric lines march across

The railway-scarred landscape

Of St Thomas

Its Station reinvented as a museum

And a stone apologises to the First Nation

For breaking a treaty

And drowning their land and livelihood

At the Ear Falls Dam

Sometimes

Sometimes

When I’m writing a poem

I laugh

What I’ve written

Actually makes me laugh!

But lately

When I’m writing

I find myself crying

It’s been a challenge

Trying to find those happy places

As if I've lost my clown’s shoes

The ones with the happy laces

Ghosts

When the bear is at its blackest

And the night has lost its moon

When the wind is at its keenest

And the ice has lost its tune

When you wake up in the darkest place

To the touch of winter’s breath

Then the spirit of the mine has passed

And its calling card is death

The Pope's Visit

When the Pope

Visited Fort Edmonton

He travelled in a white, glass Cadillac

Not unlike the donkey

Jesus rode*

*but with heavier security

Spirits

Pray tell,

how many spirits

of the First Nation

are still hanging around

The Forks, Winnipeg,

these days,

Great White Owl?