Most years I write a new Christmas song or poem but this year I have written something called "I don't want to write a christmas song this year". Here it is.

I don’t want to write a Christmas song this year,
Neither cynical nor full of festive cheer.
I just want the days to keep on moving on
And twenty twenty to be over, done and gone.
If there’s a Christmas wish, I’d see come true
It’s that next year presents a different, better view.

No one dying of a deadly new disease.
No “Damn the consequence - do as you please.”
No need to hide inside our own four walls.
No more watching on the news as it all falls.

No more finding someone else that we can blame.
No more pretence of sympathy instead of shame.
No more believing things the madmen said.
No more repeating nonsense that we’ve read.

No more leaders who would lead us to our doom.
No more days of emptiness and dark and gloom.
No more peril that too many have ignored.
No more waiting for the Damoclesian sword.

No I don’t want to write a Christmas song this year.
For there is still one horror that I fear.
Though I want the days to keep on moving on
And twenty twenty over, done and gone,
In twenty-one my Christmas wish I fear
Will just repeat the wish I made this year.

We can hope, but most likely it'll be hell for a couple more years. Sit tight where you are and watch the UK and USA unravel.

Sadly Geoff, as my last stanza indicates, I think you may well be right.

quote:

My new poem for Christmas

Very good, Bob. I'm afraid these problems may be around for a long time.

Bob, thank you for sharing this. I didn’t know that you wrote Christmas poems annually: have you posted them here before? If so, chalk it up to my senile now-71-yo memory lapses.

I haven’t tried to set my thoughts about 2020 into poetry. But I keep getting this blip, blip thought about it. Forgive me a spiritual thought here – hey, we’re free enough with our political thoughts, eh—why not? My sense of God-- tho expressed in the Judeo-Christian form for most of my life-- is connected more closely with the Nature. I think of us here in our world as organized according to precise laws, in our case physical—like part of a palette and set of materials that only work for water-color or oil-painting or sculpture. I get a click of recognition with this pandemic. We humans expand and expand and expand, pushing the envelope so far beyond the resources available to us that it seems we will surely have to somehow turn back the tide or risk extinction—ironically, by virtue of our self-consciousness, monitoring this so well we understand it’s too late to turn the tide—and then, bingo, Nature starts culling the herd! As Nature did 100 years ago! Hmmm…

quote:

Originally posted by bethree5:
Bob, thank you for sharing this. I didn’t know that you wrote Christmas poems annually: have you posted them here before?

Not sure. Possibly not. But I can if you want to read them. Warning though... they lean more to the cynical than the traditional.