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Original poster

To cry at this? Did you?

222 replies

Sandals12 · 13/12/2023 15:53

Yabu- I didnt cry

Yanbu- I did or nearly cried

Written by a relative...stick it out to the end (2 minute read). Feedback welcome

What Christmas means to me.

“Are you all set for Christmas?” we hear,
A question that always strikes fear.

No, the Elf is not on the shelf,
Nor have I ordered the turkey or beer,
The cards haven't been sent,
On presents, not a penny spent!

However, when December rolls around,
I will only be found,
Knee deep in glitter,
With tinsel up to my ears.

To me, this is what Christmas has always been.

Then carol singing and school plays,
And itchy Christmas jumper days,
Indulgent food and mulled wine,
Praying Amazon arrives on time!
Work dos with uncomfortable shoes,
Drinking plenty of ….juice.

Time with family and friends, and festive fun.
Isn't it the same for everyone?

Decoration and dessert preparation,
Advent Calendar anticipation,
The whole house now smells like a cinnamon roll…
How long is left to go?

At last, the big day arrives and Santa has been,
The living room carpet can no longer be seen,
Under plastic, cardboard, wrapping and more,
“Next year…we are NOT going overboard!”

Home Alone on the box and novelty socks,
Too many treats, turkey sleeps, The King's Speech!
Then Pringles…on repeat.
This is what Christmas means to me…

Me…me..
So blinded by the Christmas lights,
Shopping and food delights,
So wrapped up in preparing gifts,
Entertaining and Santa visits,
That I couldn't even stop and bother
To look and see,
What the season brings for others.
Me...How blind I've been.

For both far and near,
Some will not be feeling such festive cheer.

There's a world we cannot know,
Far away from ours,
Where ashes fall like snow,
And missiles obscure the stars.

These lives have become undone,
Where's the joy? Where's the fun?
Displaced from where they once called home.
“Mummy, how will Santa know where to come?”

There’s local children, who know Santa only as fable,
Told “He'll bring what he is able”,
Who will have to queue for a seat at a Christmas table.

The family on the nice side of the street,
Wanting for nothing with the world at their feet,
Who'd now trade all their Christmas wishes,
For a day with Daddy whose death was 'not suspicious'.

A neighbour over the fence,
Responds to friendly banter,
But wears sunglasses in winter,
A raised glass will mean dire consequence.

And wee Granny, who once made Christmas lunch for all,
Her family now hung on the wall,
Of whose names she can't recall.
“We'll take her out for the day”, they say.

...And the bells are ringing out for Christmas Day.

OP posts:
SmileyClare · 15/12/2023 10:19

It’s probably best to admit defeat now op.

Confess that you deliberately misled posters to believe your poem was written by a school child to get some positive comments.

Were you really hoping posters would be moved to tears? I’m embarrassed for you.😳

This is a car crash 😂

Hobnobswantshernameback · 15/12/2023 10:27

Ye god op
when in a hole
stop digging

Jacfrost · 15/12/2023 11:12

MermaidEyes · 15/12/2023 10:18

They wouldn't refer to TV as "the box" either.
That's definitely a phrase only those of us growing up in the 80s/90s or before would use!

Ditto uncomfortable shoes, hardly anybody wears heels anymore. Definitely written by somebody over 40 at least I'd say

Uricon2 · 15/12/2023 11:14

I don't think it was written by a child/teenager either but on the off chance it was I'll restrict myself to saying the last line is OK, possibly because it was lifted from Fairytale of New York (RIP Shane)

Jacfrost · 15/12/2023 11:16

Uricon2 · 15/12/2023 11:14

I don't think it was written by a child/teenager either but on the off chance it was I'll restrict myself to saying the last line is OK, possibly because it was lifted from Fairytale of New York (RIP Shane)

Another clue to the author's age...not quoting Ariana Grande are they

MarleyandMarleyWoooo · 15/12/2023 11:34

It’s also very much the same style as the other poem…

Sorry you had a shit time with that tho, OP, I hope you’re in a better place now.

Original poster
Sandals12 · 15/12/2023 11:41

So I've requested several times since yesterday for this thread to be deleted (to spare the writer). It's only a poem for goodness sake, not worth the sort of language I've read, and the accusations. Writer totally aware and asked me to post as she'd no account.

I've read that MN can be particularly votalile around Christmas and aibu postings particularly vulnerable to a pile on, so ive realised my mistake. People do like to hide behind a keyboard and can't help themselves.

I do appreciate the genuine feedback from those who took the time to read and understand the poem.

I never said it was a teen who wrote it, competitions are for all school members.

OP posts:
ChungkingPineapple · 15/12/2023 11:49

Sandals12 · 15/12/2023 11:41

So I've requested several times since yesterday for this thread to be deleted (to spare the writer). It's only a poem for goodness sake, not worth the sort of language I've read, and the accusations. Writer totally aware and asked me to post as she'd no account.

I've read that MN can be particularly votalile around Christmas and aibu postings particularly vulnerable to a pile on, so ive realised my mistake. People do like to hide behind a keyboard and can't help themselves.

I do appreciate the genuine feedback from those who took the time to read and understand the poem.

I never said it was a teen who wrote it, competitions are for all school members.

I'm sorry if I or anyone else has upset you OP, but I learned the hard way (creative writing degree) that if you ask for feedback you have to be ready for the brutal comments you get! They're also very helpful for improving your writing.

I think also, the fact no one believed it was written by a child and it looked like you were lying caused people to be a bit more snarky than they might. Nothing more than that.

I wouldn't advise posting your work online if you aren't willing to be ripped to shreds!

Jacfrost · 15/12/2023 12:06

Sandals12 · 15/12/2023 11:41

So I've requested several times since yesterday for this thread to be deleted (to spare the writer). It's only a poem for goodness sake, not worth the sort of language I've read, and the accusations. Writer totally aware and asked me to post as she'd no account.

I've read that MN can be particularly votalile around Christmas and aibu postings particularly vulnerable to a pile on, so ive realised my mistake. People do like to hide behind a keyboard and can't help themselves.

I do appreciate the genuine feedback from those who took the time to read and understand the poem.

I never said it was a teen who wrote it, competitions are for all school members.

This gets better and better 😂

It's too obvious from the language for you to keep on pretending that a child wrote it, so now it's a school competition that was open to all school members 😂 because schools are always doing that, pitting pupils against adult staff in poetry competitions 😂

Jacfrost · 15/12/2023 12:09

We'd like to say a big thank you to all pupils who entered our Christmas poetry competition, you all worked very hard. The winner is our mealtime assistant Mrs Smith 🤣

Original poster
Sandals12 · 15/12/2023 12:24

As I said...accusations. House competitions are open to all staff.

OP posts:
Original poster
Sandals12 · 15/12/2023 12:26

Pitted against eachother, not pupils. Not that any of this matters.

OP posts:
Hobnobswantshernameback · 15/12/2023 13:00

Oh pull the other one

Hobnobswantshernameback · 15/12/2023 13:02

Of this had been written by a child I think people might have given it's awfulness some leeway.
The fact it may well have beaten some younger pupils in a school competition (allegedly) and written by an adult makes me wonder about the judges actually having been sober when they judged 😂😂

Jacfrost · 15/12/2023 13:06

To be fair I don't think there has been any suggestion that it actually won the competition

SignoraItaliana · 15/12/2023 13:16

It's a twee and tawdry poem, whoever wrote it, heavy on sentiment and not-so-hidden meanings.
It's no Fairytale of New York and Shane is probably spinning in his grave at the last line.
Admit defeat, OP, you ain't a poet and you know it.

Funnylines113 · 15/12/2023 13:25

Op, said out loud this read well and did evoke some emotion. I liked it. Give her a break everyone.

I can second that in our school teachers are in the house system!! And have competitions.

ChungkingPineapple · 15/12/2023 13:26

Funnylines113 · 15/12/2023 13:25

Op, said out loud this read well and did evoke some emotion. I liked it. Give her a break everyone.

I can second that in our school teachers are in the house system!! And have competitions.

But if was written by a teacher, that just makes it even worse?

Jacfrost · 15/12/2023 13:31

Funnylines113 · 15/12/2023 13:25

Op, said out loud this read well and did evoke some emotion. I liked it. Give her a break everyone.

I can second that in our school teachers are in the house system!! And have competitions.

I hope when you read it aloud you left the dramatic pause for juice

ChungkingPineapple · 15/12/2023 13:37

In a room cluttered with papers, the poetess sat,
Intending to write a Christmas poem, both this and that.
"I'll tackle the joy and the sorrow," she boldly declared,
"But poetry's a tricky beast," she slightly despaired.

"Christmas, oh Christmas," she started to write,
"A time of joy, of stars so bright.
But let's not forget, in some corners of the earth,
The day’s not all cheer, not all mirth.

In some homes, where love should be king,
Harsh words are spoken, and hands might sting.
And in distant lands, where children should play,
War keeps Santa and his reindeer away.

But, oh, how my verses seem to stumble and fall,
I wanted deep meaning, but I'm just hitting a wall.
For every solemn line that I earnestly pen,
Ends up sounding like a chicken scratching in a hen.

I thought I'd write of families, gathering near,
But it turned into a tale of Aunt Mabel's burnt reindeer.
I wanted to capture the world's pain and strife,
Instead, I've penned an ode to my Uncle's dull kitchen knife.

And those children, far away from festive cheer,
I aimed for poignant, but it's awkwardly austere.
It’s a poem that’s meant to be read aloud,
But I fear it would just disappear in a crowd.

I'm no master of words, no spinner of tales,
My attempts at deep meaning are of no avail.
I wanted a poem of Christmas, both happy and blue,
But it's turning into a farce, without a clue.

So here I am, with my pen and my plight,
A poetess trying to capture Christmas night.
I wanted to show the world, in a verse so keen,
The beauty and sadness, the seen and unseen.

But I'm just a poet, not so profound,
My words are lost, in the holiday sound.
My Christmas poem, a juxtaposition of sorts,
Like a holiday sweater, a tad too short."

She sighed and she chuckled at her curious fate,
Her poem of Christmas, both early and late.
A tale of a season, with ups and downs,
Written by a poetess, with smiles and frowns.

So with a shrug and a smile, she closed her book,
Her Christmas poem, with its own unique look.
It may not be perfect, but it's earnest and true,
A blend of the season, from her point of view.

YouBelongHere · 15/12/2023 13:59

riotlady · 13/12/2023 16:52

No it didn’t make me cry but if it was written by one of your children I think they’ve done a good job and tried to get lots of emotive images in. My first poem as a child started “Oh no, the flowers are having a party, the rose called the poppy farty” so they’re certainly a cut above that standard 😂

Thanks for making me laugh today, love your little flower party poem 😂😂

ForeverDelayedEpiphany · 15/12/2023 14:07

ChungkingPineapple · 15/12/2023 13:37

In a room cluttered with papers, the poetess sat,
Intending to write a Christmas poem, both this and that.
"I'll tackle the joy and the sorrow," she boldly declared,
"But poetry's a tricky beast," she slightly despaired.

"Christmas, oh Christmas," she started to write,
"A time of joy, of stars so bright.
But let's not forget, in some corners of the earth,
The day’s not all cheer, not all mirth.

In some homes, where love should be king,
Harsh words are spoken, and hands might sting.
And in distant lands, where children should play,
War keeps Santa and his reindeer away.

But, oh, how my verses seem to stumble and fall,
I wanted deep meaning, but I'm just hitting a wall.
For every solemn line that I earnestly pen,
Ends up sounding like a chicken scratching in a hen.

I thought I'd write of families, gathering near,
But it turned into a tale of Aunt Mabel's burnt reindeer.
I wanted to capture the world's pain and strife,
Instead, I've penned an ode to my Uncle's dull kitchen knife.

And those children, far away from festive cheer,
I aimed for poignant, but it's awkwardly austere.
It’s a poem that’s meant to be read aloud,
But I fear it would just disappear in a crowd.

I'm no master of words, no spinner of tales,
My attempts at deep meaning are of no avail.
I wanted a poem of Christmas, both happy and blue,
But it's turning into a farce, without a clue.

So here I am, with my pen and my plight,
A poetess trying to capture Christmas night.
I wanted to show the world, in a verse so keen,
The beauty and sadness, the seen and unseen.

But I'm just a poet, not so profound,
My words are lost, in the holiday sound.
My Christmas poem, a juxtaposition of sorts,
Like a holiday sweater, a tad too short."

She sighed and she chuckled at her curious fate,
Her poem of Christmas, both early and late.
A tale of a season, with ups and downs,
Written by a poetess, with smiles and frowns.

So with a shrug and a smile, she closed her book,
Her Christmas poem, with its own unique look.
It may not be perfect, but it's earnest and true,
A blend of the season, from her point of view.

Goodness, that's both a good poem and aptly written, yet also a bit of a sneaky way to say "Your poem wasn't great... here's one that's better!" 😳😬😵

Jacfrost · 15/12/2023 14:25

In the realm of verse, a poet did try, With talent so lacking, it reached the sky.
A Christmas poem penned, oh, what a feat,
Posted on Mumsnet, seeking a review so sweet.

"Do you weep when my words dance on the page?"
She asked the crowd, igniting the stage.
But alas, the response was far from kind,
Critics emerged, their opinions entwined.

"Remove it," she pled, from the digital scroll,
Mumsnet's silence echoed, taking its toll.
A tale of a poet, seeking approval's embrace,
Yet met with disdain in that online space.

SignoraItaliana · 15/12/2023 14:54

ChungkingPineapple · 15/12/2023 13:37

In a room cluttered with papers, the poetess sat,
Intending to write a Christmas poem, both this and that.
"I'll tackle the joy and the sorrow," she boldly declared,
"But poetry's a tricky beast," she slightly despaired.

"Christmas, oh Christmas," she started to write,
"A time of joy, of stars so bright.
But let's not forget, in some corners of the earth,
The day’s not all cheer, not all mirth.

In some homes, where love should be king,
Harsh words are spoken, and hands might sting.
And in distant lands, where children should play,
War keeps Santa and his reindeer away.

But, oh, how my verses seem to stumble and fall,
I wanted deep meaning, but I'm just hitting a wall.
For every solemn line that I earnestly pen,
Ends up sounding like a chicken scratching in a hen.

I thought I'd write of families, gathering near,
But it turned into a tale of Aunt Mabel's burnt reindeer.
I wanted to capture the world's pain and strife,
Instead, I've penned an ode to my Uncle's dull kitchen knife.

And those children, far away from festive cheer,
I aimed for poignant, but it's awkwardly austere.
It’s a poem that’s meant to be read aloud,
But I fear it would just disappear in a crowd.

I'm no master of words, no spinner of tales,
My attempts at deep meaning are of no avail.
I wanted a poem of Christmas, both happy and blue,
But it's turning into a farce, without a clue.

So here I am, with my pen and my plight,
A poetess trying to capture Christmas night.
I wanted to show the world, in a verse so keen,
The beauty and sadness, the seen and unseen.

But I'm just a poet, not so profound,
My words are lost, in the holiday sound.
My Christmas poem, a juxtaposition of sorts,
Like a holiday sweater, a tad too short."

She sighed and she chuckled at her curious fate,
Her poem of Christmas, both early and late.
A tale of a season, with ups and downs,
Written by a poetess, with smiles and frowns.

So with a shrug and a smile, she closed her book,
Her Christmas poem, with its own unique look.
It may not be perfect, but it's earnest and true,
A blend of the season, from her point of view.

Oh dear...

ChungkingPineapple · 15/12/2023 15:07

SignoraItaliana · 15/12/2023 14:54

Oh dear...

Show quote history

What? Didn't it make you cry? I know it did me.