13 days to Christmas, 4 days to enter the competition by Jennifer Wong It’s never too late to write poetry… christmasMagma Competitionpoetry Share this This Post Has 5 Comments 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. Comments are closed.