Christmas is for children. I loved Christmas when my children were young. Now i think it’s just a shopkeepers holiday.
If any one is interested here is a poem I wrote for my children when they were young enough and wise enough to believe in fairies.
THE TRYSTING TREE.
Hold my hand and I’ll hold yours
And we’ll go dancing to the shores
Of sunlit lands where happy grows
The Trysting Tree, beneath which flows
The sunbeam stream where fairies bathe
And ships with sails of breezes take
Cargoes of cares to the secret cave
Where the wisest fairy works to make
Them into new and shining joys,
And all the tears of girls and boys
Are made into a necklace for
The loveliest queen of all that shore.
Beneath the Trysting Tree we’ll tell
Our dreams into a singing shell
And read the stories of the flowers
As page on page we turn the hours.
We’ll talk as brightly as singing birds
Of things untaught in any school
In a laugh of language gemmed with words
Shaped newly with our twist tongue tool.
We’ll eat our fill of fairy food
And drink the wine no grownup could.
Then on a magic spell we’ll ride
And see all from the other side.
Whenever you’re sad remember we
Can meet beneath the Trysting Tree.
Just call my name, you know it well,
It has the name that none can spell
And we’ll romp again through magic fields
And from our purses stuffed with stars
We’ll pay for all that dreaming builds,
Those castles in the sky and cars
Drawn swiftly by a lightning streak;
Who knows, perhaps we’ll even speak
To that loveliest Queen who proudly wears
The necklace made from pearls of tears.
Harry Haines.
How about this for very young kids?
THE LAND OF SINGINGLYSAID.
When you are sleeping
The fairies come peeping
Around your sleeping head.
From where you are lying
They take you by flying
To the land of Singinglysaid.
And there on alighting
You’ll be given in writing
Rules that cannot be read
And it’s no good you trying
For they’re not applying
Rules in Singinglysaid.
There you’ll go laughing
To washing and bathing
In water that’s blue and red.
And when you go walking
Your toes will start talking
To the flowers of Singinglysaid.
And there when you’re singing
The bluebells start ringing
While trees clap there hands overhead.
And each hour you’ll be humming
To the dancing days drumming
Out tunes of Singinglysaid.
Till when the sun’s rising
There’s nothing surprising
Can’t happen in Singinglysaid.
But when you start waking
The fairies are taking
You home from Singinglysaid.
That’s why you wake singing
Though fairies are winging
Away from your dreaming bed.
But again when you’re sleeping
The fairies will come peeping
And take you to Singinglysaid.
Harry Haines.
Absolutely brilliant.
Thank you Margaret, your kind remarks, much appreciated.
Crime Scene
The forensic team are in the yard
measuring footprints in the snow.
They’ve bagged up vegetables for DNA
and photographed a hat and scarf
left at the gate.
There are no finger prints.
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Christmas is for children. I loved Christmas when my children were young. Now i think it’s just a shopkeepers holiday.
If any one is interested here is a poem I wrote for my children when they were young enough and wise enough to believe in fairies.
THE TRYSTING TREE.
Hold my hand and I’ll hold yours
And we’ll go dancing to the shores
Of sunlit lands where happy grows
The Trysting Tree, beneath which flows
The sunbeam stream where fairies bathe
And ships with sails of breezes take
Cargoes of cares to the secret cave
Where the wisest fairy works to make
Them into new and shining joys,
And all the tears of girls and boys
Are made into a necklace for
The loveliest queen of all that shore.
Beneath the Trysting Tree we’ll tell
Our dreams into a singing shell
And read the stories of the flowers
As page on page we turn the hours.
We’ll talk as brightly as singing birds
Of things untaught in any school
In a laugh of language gemmed with words
Shaped newly with our twist tongue tool.
We’ll eat our fill of fairy food
And drink the wine no grownup could.
Then on a magic spell we’ll ride
And see all from the other side.
Whenever you’re sad remember we
Can meet beneath the Trysting Tree.
Just call my name, you know it well,
It has the name that none can spell
And we’ll romp again through magic fields
And from our purses stuffed with stars
We’ll pay for all that dreaming builds,
Those castles in the sky and cars
Drawn swiftly by a lightning streak;
Who knows, perhaps we’ll even speak
To that loveliest Queen who proudly wears
The necklace made from pearls of tears.
Harry Haines.
How about this for very young kids?
THE LAND OF SINGINGLYSAID.
When you are sleeping
The fairies come peeping
Around your sleeping head.
From where you are lying
They take you by flying
To the land of Singinglysaid.
And there on alighting
You’ll be given in writing
Rules that cannot be read
And it’s no good you trying
For they’re not applying
Rules in Singinglysaid.
There you’ll go laughing
To washing and bathing
In water that’s blue and red.
And when you go walking
Your toes will start talking
To the flowers of Singinglysaid.
And there when you’re singing
The bluebells start ringing
While trees clap there hands overhead.
And each hour you’ll be humming
To the dancing days drumming
Out tunes of Singinglysaid.
Till when the sun’s rising
There’s nothing surprising
Can’t happen in Singinglysaid.
But when you start waking
The fairies are taking
You home from Singinglysaid.
That’s why you wake singing
Though fairies are winging
Away from your dreaming bed.
But again when you’re sleeping
The fairies will come peeping
And take you to Singinglysaid.
Harry Haines.
Absolutely brilliant.
Thank you Margaret, your kind remarks, much appreciated.
Crime Scene
The forensic team are in the yard
measuring footprints in the snow.
They’ve bagged up vegetables for DNA
and photographed a hat and scarf
left at the gate.
There are no finger prints.