The Snowman
She called him The Snowman.
It was fun building him up, like no man
Had ever been built before. When fresh, he was a magnificent sight
But as she slept, he always disappeared, just melted away into the night.
She’d see him again.
Perhaps. But she never knew when.
Until then, she resolved to never let it show
That she was waiting on the snow.
The Snowman is a short poem by Ms Moem.
Have you heard of the lost christmas?
It’s not mentioned a lot.
But in depths of a brutal winter
One year Santa forgot!
He’d been out with the lads
And he’d had too much gin.
It meant he missed work
Because alas, he slept in.
Mrs Claus was no use
In fact she was as bad.
She’d been acting the barmaid
Entertaining the lads.
She made the boys roar with a flash of her thighs
And did something unspeakable with two hot fresh mince pies!
Anyway, the upshot
It destroyed all their plans
And families sat baffled, with their heads in their hands.
There were children sat sobbing
And Mums shaking their fists
Dads trying to gain web access
To the fabled naughty list.
They checked on Santa’s twitter and his facebook page too
All they found was a selfie from the Lapland Chistmas Do.
He’d not updated his status to say he was primed
And Norad simply said “There’s no movement at this time”.
There was no sign of rudolph
And no word from the elves
So reluctantly the parents
Took the jobs on themselves.
There was no time to waste
They could moan about it later.
They set about finding presents
And wrapping them in paper.
Mum persuaded Dad to slip on a red suit
Then sent him on his way, to his entrance via the roof.
He got halfway up the drainpipe, but couldn’t go any higher
Realising his route was blocked by the fancy electric fire.
He clambered down defeated, knowing his wife would send him back
When he simply wanted to get to the point, and empty his special sack.
At this point it was getting late, and the day looked to be lost
But he was determined to give his kids Christmas, and he would do it any cost.
So he hopped onto the landline, you know the thing that no-one uses
And when Santa finally answered, Dad was taking no excuses.
He said he better get here or if he didn’t there would be trouble
And he demanded that as compensation, the amount of presents should now be double.
He didn’t give him a chance to say that this would not occur
As Mum was looking on, and frankly he was more scared of her.
So Santa apologised profusely and said that he was on his way
And he hoped he’d make it over there, before the end of Christmas day.
Eventually he made it, and the children clapped with glee
Dad just raised his eyebrows, and gestured to where the gifts should be.
Mum said “Come on Nigel, it doesn’t matter that he was late.
He’s here and he’s brought goodies, and I think he’s pretty great.
In fact, forgive my boldness, but I really love what you do
And I’ve never met someone so famous, so can I get a picture with you?”
Dad just couldn’t believe it. He was raging, that’s for sure
Just hours ago this woman said she had no faith in Santa any more.
Now here she was swooning, with stars in her eyes
Over an old man with a hangover, barely legal to fly.
It all got quite messy . The police came in the end.
They weren’t sure if he could press charges. Said it would depend
As there was no sign of a break-in, and St.Nick was always good to the force
They said they’d seen all they needed, and they’d be in touch in due course.
Santa scarpered sharpish, Dad nursed his black eye
Mum tried to console the children, said there was no need to cry.
She offered up turkey sandwiches, but no one felt like eating.
It’s not Christmas when you’ve seen Santa give your Dad a good beating.
So no-one ever mentions it, and now you know why.
The legend of the year that Santa forgot to take to the sky.
He has never let it happen since, and just to make extra sure
He now has moved his Christmas party …. to the weekend before!
The Tale Of The Lost Christmas is a poem written by Ms Moem
The Day Of The Doctor – A Poem
We’ve patiently waited and now it’s here
It’s the day of the doctor, 50 years
Of timey wimey travels and fun
And oh what a lot this clever chap’s done.
With his trusty companions, he saves the day
With eleven different faces along the way.
It went Hartnell, Troughton, Pertwee, Baker
Peter Davidson and then Colin Baker
McCoy, McGann, Ecclestone, Tennant
With Matt Smith now playing the Doctor at present.
Every true Whovian has a favourite or best
And Peter Capaldi’s lined up as the next
But I’ve trickled off track – I’m just so exited
It’s the day of the Doctor, and we’ve all been invited.
Doctor Who fans around the world unite
As the anniversary special lands tonight.
We’ll be watching in cinemas, and watching at home
Listening for the TARDIS with it’s asthmatic groan
Who is John Hurt’s Doctor and what will he be?
Not long to go and at last we shall see.
So finally a nod to the British Broadcasting Corporation
And Steven Moffat and the team. Thank you for your dedication
It’s been half century and it’s all down to you!
Happy 50th anniversary and long live Doctor Who!
This poem was written by Ms Moem, in celebration of the 50th Anniversary of Doctor Who. The Day Of The Doctor airs tonight on a screen near you!
Fireworks
Fireworks are fantastic
And on every Bonfire Night
Excited spars of wonder
Fill the skies with coloured light.
Groups of cheery onlookers
Marvel at the sight
Woolly scarves and eyes lit-up
In adult and child alike
Whizzing, fizzing wonder jets
Behold the happy sight
Shooting stars of brilliance
They’re fireworks alright!
Fireworks is a poem © Ms Moem.
