In Competition No. 3028 you were invited to submit lines for a Christmas card courtesy of well-known poets.
Poets moved to write Yule-inspired verse include that old killjoy William Topaz Mc-Gonagall: ‘The way to respect Christmas time/ Is not by drinking whisky or wine’. And, of course, John Betjeman: ‘And girls in slacks remember Dad,/ And oafish louts remember Mum,/ And sleepless children’s hearts are glad./ And Christmas morning bells say “Come!”…’ JB cropped up a fair amount in the entry, but nobody, alas, chose U.A. Fanthorpe, who sent verses to friends as Christmas cards over many years.
Thank you all, old-timers and newcomers alike, for your terrific entries over the year. There are almost always more worthy winners than space to showcase their brilliance; and there’s rarely the room to commend all those who deserve it. Merry Christmas! The winners take £30 each.
What fields are these, I think I know,
All virgin white and dressed in snow?
What kings are they who move toward
A manger in this Christmas card?
What star is this that throws its light
On Bethlehem, this Christmas night?
What choirs sing in pious skies
Invisible to human eyes?
And there beyond the sparkling snow
The manger spreads its mystic glow
And who would break the magic spell
That radiates Emmanuel?
Dear Christmas card, you take me back
To artless feelings I now lack,
Yet something that is not quite lost
Surveys your scenes and melts the Frost.
Frank McDonald
Recipient — mark the Contents
Of this folded Cardboard — Screed —
Avowing not what I condone
But what you wish — to read
A Litany — of Platitudes —
Shall here perforce suffice
To hoist the hapless — Harbinger
Of Yuletide Joy — and Peace
Poor Paper Gestures grease — the Wheels
Of pagan Industry —
Deflect us from that awful Truth —
Our Tomb — of Certainty
Doubt not my Insincerity —
Unhope beginneth here —
Planet and Man — despondent both —
Must turn from Year — to Year.
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