Some Christmas Poems from Previous Years

The Kelpie Dog at Christmas

They gathered around the Christmas scene,

All those years ago;

In the cold air of Bethlehem,

In a rocky cave hollow.

Mary, Joseph and Jesus,

Gathered on some hay;

Amongst the rocks and animals,

On that first Christmas day.

Angels called to shepherds,

Who came in from fields to adore;

On entering the cave they crouched down,

Amongst the animals and straw.

Outside the cave in the weather,

Some sheep twitched in cold, damp fog;

But before they could get away,

Along came a kelpie dog!

His black coat glistened with droplets,

His ears pointed to the stars;

His eyes took stock of that restless flock,

He’d put an end to their baas!

He circled round the flock,

He mobbed them right in tight;

They were bunched up together,

On that first Christmas night.

And while the shepherds paid respect

To Jesus on the hay;

That kelpie dog served vigil,

And kept the sheep at bay.

That night was long and dreary,

The cold got in to their bones;

And while those inside were snug,

Sheep and dog stood on chilly stones.

When the night was waning,

And the sun appeared in the sky;

The shepherds emerged from the cavern,

And what did they spy?

A tight little mob of warm sheep,

Looking on with hungry eyes;

And a kelpie dog with a glistening coat,

Under early morning skies.

The shepherds looked in wonder,

And one let out a cheer:

“Bravo, our kelpie dog!

You’ve saved the day out here!”

The dog looked up in approval,

Giving a slobbery grin;

Then trotted off past them,

And to the cave went in.

He sauntered up to the manger,

Right up close he did;

“Oh no!” Cried out a shepherd,

“He’ll dribble on the kid!”

But the dog looked on in reverence,

He slowly bowed his head;

Then nestled down beside the Christ child,

And went to sleep instead.

Now some may say this is legend,

And wasn’t part of the night;

But legends survive in generations,

As well as books written right.

When you remember Christmas,

As an adult or as a kid;

Rest in the presence of Jesus,

Like the kelpie did.

Simon C.J. Falk           17 December 2013.

The Gnome from Santa's Home

The Gnome from Santa's Home,

Sat across from his table,

He responded to all tasks,

As soon as he was able.

He answered many letters,

He fielded lots of calls.

He helped dear old Santa,

When he had his falls.

Gnome was a jolly butler,

For Santa to have around,

Supplementing the work of the elves,

And cherishing their merry sound.

One job he did enjoy,

Was to call us back,

Beyond the commercial ploy,

To the original Christmas tack.

Always looking for a story,

To delight the young and old,

Of the King of Glory,

The greatest story ever told.

He knew of The Shepherd's Daughter,

And the Little Angel's speech,

He'd patted The Kelpie Dog at Christmas,

And the Golden Grain was within reach.

He was onto a new story,

In our world's trouble spot,

A Christmas Crib at Aleppo,

Better than a violent plot.

He will never cease his searching,

To catch the Christmas story,

For his job is to share the message of Christmas,

With people like you and me.

Simon C.J. Falk 19 December 2016

Golden Grains, Golden Light

Golden grains, golden light!

In our ‘Southland Christmas’ night.

The light of Christ enters our dawn,

As we celebrate Christmas morn.

Storms crash by with lightning flash,

Fires then threaten the golden cash,

Cash in heads on golden stems

All fenced and rowed within their hems.

In the paddocks day after day,

Golden grains formed in the hay,

Then the harvest trucks and headers strain,

Leaving golden stubble on the plain.

From the stubble the convoys go,

To the grain-dumps and silo,

In sun and wind and overcast sky

The waiting trucks in queue standby.

The golden grains go off to the mill,

And then bags and packets take their fill,

Warehouses and shops fill aisles and shelves,

Are like Santa’s presents among the elves.

The golden grains go in shopping trolleys

Where families also stuff in lollies

They go in bread stuffing of the Christmas roast,

And are in the stubbie raised in toast.

On that first Christmas faraway,

Some golden grains had grown the hay,

Wherein the infant Christ child lay,

The one who gave us Christmas day.

As the child later grew

His followers spread to more than a few,

He taught of a planted golden grain,

That fell and died within the plain.

This grain rose from the earth towards the sun,

It shared in a great victory won,

A victory over death and sin,

For all of those who followed him.

So this Christmas we pray for peace,

For those interred to find release,

That the poor and hungry living in fright,

May wake to greet a dawning light.

A light of one like a golden grain,

Who was born to slake their pain,

Who like the sun will never wane,

Glowing among us like golden grain.

Caved Inn of Light

Well, my name is Joseph,

And you asked me for my view,

So I'll try and give it 'Aussie' style,

Since you do like a yarn or two.

Well we got the summons,

From the city, the big smoke,

It came all the way from the Roman Caesar,

Back then there was no bigger bloke.

So we saddled up the donkey,

Took on water and our swag,

And a made a bee-line to Bethlehem,

Before too much time would lag.

We started in the Galilee hills,

Where wallabies or goats might hang around,

Then made our way over the flatter plains,

Where your kangaroos might stand their ground.

We went across a desert,

Where your scorpions might feel at home,

The winds and sand then blasted us,

We felt so dry and alone.

Finally we rose up to Bethlehem,

It was King David’s stomping ground,

We needed to get a room for the night,

Set off and to see what was around.

We knocked upon the doors of inns

Of B & B’s, hostels and all that stuff,

We couldn’t find a room to fit,

And we’d nearly had enough!

When we thought all was lost,

An innkeeper said: “hang about a tick.”

“We’ve got something a little private,

But you can have it if you’re quick!”

They led us to a cave,

Wherein a bunyip might like to hide,

It was all decked out like a stable,

With their animals set up inside.

I sighed within myself awhile,

And heard myself say “yes”.

Then Mary and I settled in,

To try and sort the mess.

It seems that they used this cave

For livestock in winter time,

It smelled like cows and horses,

Yep, the odour was a little prime.

But we found a little manger,

Just the right size for a kid,

And on the straw that had held a harvest

This is what we did.

We laid my love Mary

On straw that had fed stock,

She gave birth to her little baby,

Who had come to tend the flock.

Later, yes, much later,

When I was no longer present,

That baby grew and taught the flock,

Which some would come to resent.

Then they put an end to him,

On a cross upon a hill,

The shepherd became the butchered lamb,

And few gathered at the kill.

They say we go full circle,

We go back to where we began,

Well, when he died, our fella,

Got put in a cave again!

Blow me down, after a few of our sleeps,

They told me that he rose to life anew,

He went back with his mates to Galilee,

So their mission he could renew.

I’m back at the cave again,

I can hardly leave that place,

For in the glow of the firelight,

The light of the world shone on his face.

He was the shining light for many years,

As he helped me make and mend,

The pride and joy of his mother’s eyes,

And towards wisdom did he tend.

You may say this is just legend,

That I’m spinning you some bull,

You bet mate! This is real legend,

Of a life lived to the full.

So when gathered round the fireplace,

And you see light upon a face,

Remember the light on a kid in manger,

Who’s our light of the world and gift of grace.

Simon C.J. Falk 22 December 2015

A Christmas Crib at Aleppo

As Advent passed through Aleppo,

It was hard to see,

People living in any peace,

Or children roaming free.

The buses sent to save them,

Were lying as charred remains,

Who could come and deliver?

Them from many months of pains.

Buildings strewn as ruins,

Gardens left in a mess,

The poor and hungry dwell in squalor,

Awaiting a redress.

The children of Aleppo,

Have no toy shops to see,

They have no electronic gadgets,

For their internet's not free.

And they have no fairy Christmas lights,

Shining on a Christmas tree.

Their families struggle for Church or Mosque,

To go and pray in peace,

From the constant sieging,

It appears there's no release.

But what if something happened,

To enkindle a little hope?

Might it make a trifle of difference?

And help some families cope.

What if among the rubble,

Of their old, majestic city,

There might be respite from the trouble,

Some reverie a touch more pretty?

What if a Dad and Mother,

With their little family in tow,

Looked amidst the shattered buildings,

For a place to go?

What if there were a spot,

Away from lines of fire,

Where the family could be

In a place of restful retire?

What if in that place,

The mother then with child,

Could have her baby with her husband?

What if other children came and filed

In upon the scene

Of that modern nativity?

That among the broken buildings,

And the shattered lives,

There might be a little light,

To glow for husbands and wives.

And that the children dwelling near,

Who had no presents to receive,

Might behold a very precious gift,

And then may come to believe,

That among the cruel fighting,

And from their ruptured dreams,

The little, battered pieces,

Had edges made for seams,

To make a new mosaic,

And to build further dreams.

Visions within the struggle and the squalor,

That a child for us was born,

To keep holding life before us,

That on all true peace may dawn.

Simon C.J. Falk 19 December 2016

We Three Kings A-Cantering Are

Tink, tink,

Tink, tink,

Clip, clop,

Clip, clop,

We three kings a-cantering are,

Our camels are off,

So watch us, ah,

Hill and valley,

No dilly-dally

Cantering to a star

Ohhhh…

That piano

In its metronomic affect

Turns us inwardly

Inside out

And up and

D

O

W

N

To the pace of camels

A-cantering, a-cantering.

Ah, the energy and verve

Striking every nerve

Ending to its beginnings

It has us all singing.

Never ever before

Has this tune taken the floor

In a such a way

Oh, to stay and sway

On the dromedary delight

We may take to flight

At the sound of the piano.

But we go

Yet find a memory still aglow

Of the flight of the camels

By day and night.

Simon C.J. Falk 7 January 2019

The Little Angel -  a back story inspired by the Gospels

As shepherds left the angels,

The night that Christ was born,

One shepherd, after a time,

Became quite forlorn.

As he looked upon his flock,

A lamb was gone from view.

He looked across the field,

He looked behind the rock,

He followed a little rivulet,

He looked and did not stop.

At last, he heard a bleating,

Which had his heart quickly beating,

And he followed the sound,

Down and down,

Into a ravine.

When he came upon the spot,

There unfolded a scene.

A dainty little angel,

In bright and glowing sheen,

Was the most wondrous thing,

This shepherd had ever seen.

And as he gazed upon the sight,

He beheld something below,

For there it was, the little, lost lamb,

Under the angel's toe!

"Dear shepherd," spoke the angel,

"Tonight you saw a sight,

Emmanuel, the Son of David,

Was born to put all right.

He will give hope to the afflicted,

He will welcome each lost sheep.

He is the comfort of the addicted,

The embrace of those who weep.

Although a little baby now,

His day will come to shine,

With the Holy Spirit,

And his reign will be divine.

Go and tell your family,

Before the break of dawn,

For this child's the hope of hope,

The saviour has been born!"

The shepherd thanked the angel,

And gathered the lamb in his hands,

While choruses of angels

Resounded across the lands.

He saddled up his donkey,

He took home his sheep.

He went to his family,

And woke his daughter from her sleep.

Now, the shepherd's daughter,

Is another tale,

To inspire families,

That peace may prevail.

Simon C.J. Falk 19 December 2016

The Shepherd’s Daughter: A back story on Luke’s Gospel

Written for an address at a Christmas Carol evening

A mother told her son a story

A shepherd returned home from the fields and looked through the curtains:

“Zipporah,” he said gently. “Zipporah, my darling, wake up.”

The daughter rubbed her eyes and gave a big, slow yawn.

Then, she took her father’s hand and went with him.

He clasped his hands around her waist and firmly, but deftly,

Picked her up and placed her carefully on the back of his donkey.

Soon they met some more shepherds with children and were off.

After a time they heard a sound. Soft, at first, as it came across the still night air.

It was like voices. Were they singing?

Gradually, as they neared, the voices were louder, and yes, they were singing a beautiful, joyous chorus of song.

As Zipporah and her companions crested a hill they saw it.

There was a cave, glowing with light.  The song seemed to be within it, outside of it, all around it.

A happy song it was: “Joy to the world, and peace to all in heaven and earth!”

Soon they were so close, to the entrance of the cave.

Again, the shepherd placed his firm hands around his daughter and hoisted her off the mount. The donkey did not even flinch.

Taking her hand, the shepherd led Zipporah through the entrance of the cave.

On some straw, where animals would lay, was a mother. She was half sitting, half crouching.  She held a baby and looked, gazed, oh so lovingly, into the baby’s eyes.

The woman’s husband, who crouched hear her, looked up.

“Come, shepherd’s daughter,” he said.

So, she walked over and crouched down.

“What is your name, dear one,” said the mother.

In a voice nearly trembling, she replied, “Zipporah, mam.”

“What a lovely name.  Well, Zipporah, meet Jesus. Here, hold him close to your heart.”

Zipporah held him, and she was filled with warmth, with joy and love. She felt so special inside and like, like she could tell the whole world.

After a time, they thanked the family and headed home.

“And that is what parent’s do, little Reuben,” said the mother to her son.

“They ask their children to hold Jesus close to their heart. Now, Reuben, off to sleep!”

As Reuben went to sleep, his mother returned to the scene of the shepherd’s daughter holding Jesus.  It was many year’s since she had made that journey as the shepherd’s daughter. But Zipporah still remembered and still felt the warmth in her heart.

And as we hear the story,

We too check our heart,

Can we feel the burning?

Does it make us start?

Start with some enthusiasm,

To spread a little cheer,

A wholesome way to end one

And begin another year.

Simon C.J. Falk  Commenced 11 December 2016 and completed 19 December 2016

A COVID Christmas

Boggle, gurgle, woozle fizz!

Professor Fuzz is a science whizz.

You’ll find him in his lab for sure,

Working day and night for a COVID cure.

 

Cynthia Small wasn’t tall,

But she worked the wards and all,

Nursing COVID patients there.

Many knew her tender care.

 

Worker Lim was making time,

Manufacturing masks on a production line.

An order came for him from the top.

“Your afternoon is free so you can stop!”

 

When Cynthia went to her coffee room,

People everywhere dispelled the gloom,

All department stores were there around,

With Christmas Carols providing the sound.

“You cared for our colleagues and grandmas too,

So we brought the shops to you!”

 

In a place quite far way,

A Son looked down in love upon that day.

Although he seemed so far apart,

Somehow, he’s also in our heart.

He remembered back to a manger and stable,

Where he was born when no inn was able.

That when he had come to birth.

To bring peace to hearts and joy on earth.

 

Simon C.J. Falk  1 December 2020