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A Very Misery Christmas

No winter postcards of deep snow and bliss No winter postcards of mistletoe kiss Winter was cold, winter was tough Winter was long and we all had it rough No Father Christmas, no Saint Nicholas No bright blue, glass baubles, no presents for us Fantasy Christmas, fantasy tree We had to live, through the reality Dad was long gone, the man did his best When chronic bronchitis, seeped into his chest The place where he toiled, was all he had known But it's dust and it's damp had now left mam alone What would befall us, what would we be Who would care for us, if we did not have, she Mam did her best for her nine hungry brood But I will never forget, there was so little food Mam had her pride but the children came top She burnt all the cupboards to keep the rooms hot Furniture smashed for the fire was the norm Furniture burned just to keep the kids warm The hard times as a child sit deep in my mind The emotions and memories, I remember, unkind The hunger, the cold, the panger remain So little food, again and again The times were of hardship, poverty, pain Coats on the bed was the name of the game No warm fancy blankets in my childhood Just old duffle coats and we fought for the hood All of the cooking, from one frying pan Hunched round a fire, nine kids and their mam All I remember is fried porridge oats Dark dankie bedrooms and old duffle coats Snotty nosed kids crying hungry and cold What bread there might be would be covered in mould All of the clothing was hand me down stuff Nine children to dress, there was never enough One stocking each and sometimes one shoe In all of my memory I can't recall two Now most of the children, have just what they need Warm clothing and food and laptop PC.s Ipods and kindles with mince pies for tea Have they ever heard of the word, poverty I am not angry, I am not sad One learns to accept, what one had as a lad Would you swap that Hulme time, to be young in this day With modern technology and regular pay Would you sell your soul to escape poverty Then sell it elsewhere, your not swapping with me

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 12/2/2011 9:37:00 PM
wow! John,,, very heart felt... enjoyed stopping by tooo read your poem~;-) always,..p.d.
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John Scott
Date: 12/3/2011 1:19:00 AM
Thank you for your words
Date: 12/2/2011 9:29:00 AM
Such a moving verse on a childhood filled with want. Memories like these never go away but hopefully soften with time. Your story is so sad and all I can say is I wish there was some way to ease the pain. A verse like this can only come from experience. Luv Elizabeth
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John Scott
Date: 12/2/2011 10:13:00 AM
thank you for taking the time to read my verse, yes it is all true except the bit about my father being a miner although he did die of bronchial problems. I wrote this mainly for older people who can make comparison on the things they had compared to the things modern children get, want even demand. Once again thank you

Book: Reflection on the Important Things