Hello there. It’s been a while.
I’m sure I’ll have more to say at a later date, but I wanted to share a festive poem as we get closer and closer to Christmas Day.
This piece was an entry for Winchester Cathedrals ‘Poetry Burst’ competition, which asked for poems titled This Christmas to…well…mull over what Christmas 2020 will mean to them.
It didn’t win, and so I thought I’d share it on here. Waste not, want not!
I originally wrote This Christmas before Tier 4 was announced, and millions Christmas plans were cancelled, including my own. It seems even more personal now that things have changed so much, and so quickly.
I will miss my family terribly, despite knowing all of these changes are for the sake of our health and safety. This poem reflects this, lamenting the loss of even the less-than-shiny aspects of a family Christmas, and yearning for time with loved ones – even if it does mean arguments, discomfort and awkward moments.
(I should add that, while this started off with ideas taken from my personal experiences, I have used poetic license to exaggerate and fictionalise. Don’t worry, Mum and Dad!)
by Jo Fisher
make me watch It’s A Wonderful Life again,
instead of Home Alone.
Give me gifts for girls ten years my junior,
and moan at me for filling up on honeyed nuts
before dinner’s served.
Judge me for having both puddings,
instead of choosing between them,
and wince as I scrape the bowl.
Fight over the remote control.
Argue over the last pig in a blanket,
then take one bite, and leave it, limp, on your plate.
Drink a bit too much, and
utter something passive-aggressive across the table.
throw it out,
throw a strop.
Spill the gravy on the new table cloth,
and drop the sprouts, then test the two-second rule.
Lose the dice, walk out on Uno,
and knock our new bauble from the tree
while sneaking the last chocolate decoration.
Pull the cracker too hard,
and push me off my chair,
and tell me that my hair looks better longer –
the way it was last year.
Read more of my poetry
A poem about autumn as the perfect metaphor for mental health.
This poem is for anyone who misses being close to someone, too. That time will come, but for now, let’s think of drinking tea with them.
I originally wrote this poem, Curtains Up, in support of Nuffield Southampton Theatres (NST) and their fundraising efforts, since they hold a place close to my heart. But really, this poem is for all theatres and performers.
You are so missed, and we will be there once again when the curtain goes up, ready to cheer you on.