At the weekend, I attended a Christmas poetry workshop run by the brilliant Artfulscribe in Southampton.
I’ve not had time to write any festive pieces this year because of various things (poetry slams, work deadlines, Christmas parties and the like) so it was lovely to sit down, discover some new seasonal poetry to enjoy, and even write a few lines of my own using some prompts.
We were asked to create a piece reflecting on a childhood Christmas memory; this is what I came up with!
Merry Christmas!
The wake-up call
We had woken them at 2am.
Half an hour, they eventually told us when older,
after they had gone to bed.
Heads had barely touched the pillow
when we came bellowing in.
“He’s been! He’s been!”
And three hours later,
bed covered in coloured paper
and tea half drunk,
we shrunk into their laps –
she chose Mum’s, I opted for Dad’s –
and we dozed in the armchairs
for a few stolen hours
while the sun rose.
A little peace, I suppose, in the midst of the chaos
of Christmas with kids.
I apologised eventually,
at the age of twenty three,
for that rude awakening.
The Christmas when Santa needed more coffee
and an extra mince pie or three
to jolly his mood.
READ MORE OF MY POETRY:
Jo Fisher Writes 
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