Life & Living, Love, Poetry

i’ll be glad when christmas is over

Christmas isn’t all it’s cracked up to be for many people who, for whatever reason, find themselves alone or feeling alone. This poem is about the grief, sadness, and despair that many, including myself, may experience. If you feel like this, you may find some comfort in knowing you are not alone at this time of year or any other time of year for that matter. Difficulties are part and parcel of the human condition.

In the end, all things pass. And there’s hope in that.

P.S. I’d never heard The White Cliffs of Dover until I sang it with Mom after she moved out of the big red brick house on the hill. I thought it the perfect finish for this poem.

i’ll be glad when christmas is over

by punkie 2017

when christmas is over
i won’t have to pretend
to feel jolly and bright
when I’m empty within

i’ve no brothers or sisters
my family’s all gone
there’s nothing but darkness
where once the sun shone

what’s that you say?
be of good cheer?
how can I? who would?
i cry through my tears

my friends all have children
or parents or cousins
get-togethers to go to
sometimes by the dozen

but i’m not invited
to join in their parties
with ribbons and wrapping
and stuff hale and hearty

i wish i were happy
with all that I have
instead i feel lonely
forgotten and sad

but don’t get me wrong
please don’t be mistaken
your pity’s unneeded
as i’m not forsaken

no I’m not alone
oh no not at all!
there are millions more like me
someone’s neglected to call

those who give care
with little support
“we don’t have the time!”
their families retort

old folks in bad places
that none go to see
seems they’ve become
unwanted debris

homeless on streets
in boxes and sheds
without any blankets
or even a bed

people flee their own countries
escape in small boats
then drown by the thousands
because they don’t float

the seasonal spirit
to some is a bottle
or the comfort that’s found
in the folds of a brothel

like everything else
this too shall pass
just as happiness ends
the sadness won’t last

so don’t worry, don’t fret
it’s just the holiday blues
all will be fixed
in the year that is new

our hopes they ring out
like bells on a sleigh
the path will be found
with a will and a way

things may have changed
by this time next year
though the dearth of much promise
fills my heart with cold fear

perhaps if i write
dear santa a letter
next year he’ll deliver
a world that is better

so yes, I’ll be glad
when christmas is over
as i look forward and back
to the white cliffs of dover


©2017 Susan Macaulay. I invite you to share my poetry widely, but please do not reblog or copy and paste my poems into other social media without my permission. Thank you.

#mc_embed_signup{background:#fff; clear:left; font:14px Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; }
/* Add your own MailChimp form style overrides in your site stylesheet or in this style block.
We recommend moving this block and the preceding CSS link to the HEAD of your HTML file. */

Subscribe to MAS now & get 5 free PDFs & a page of welcome links:

Email Address

//$) {window.fnames = new Array(); window.ftypes = new Array();fnames[0]=’EMAIL’;ftypes[0]=’email’;fnames[1]=’FNAME’;ftypes[1]=’text’;fnames[2]=’LNAME’;ftypes[2]=’text’;}(jQuery));var $mcj = jQuery.noConflict(true);

Image copyright: hasloo / 123RF Stock Photo

Death & Dying, Life & Living, Poetry, Spirituality

the sun, the moon and the star

I wrote this poem in March 2015, shortly after my visiting “privileges” at the dementia jail in which my mother resided were restricted to between 1 and 3 p.m. in the afternoon to punish me for advocating on her behalf. I was threatened with not being able to see her at all if I didn’t obey the rules. Several months prior to that, under the same threat, I had been forced to remove more than 200 blog posts that mentioned her any way. I wasn’t allowed to say her name in my workshops or presentations, or to show any photographs of her without the written approval of the person who was in legal control of her care, the state of which had been rife with neglect and abuse for 10 years.

the sun, the moon and the star

©2015 punkie (aka Susan Macaulay)

the sun, the moon and the star

by punkie

The Sun tarot

sun stars ’n moon
in a silver spoon,
don’t care if I die.

my body aches,
my heart mistakes
chaos for my insides.

battered and broken,
The Star tarotwords unspoken,
seek yet don’t find sky.

dark poetry flows
as a gale force blows,
is it truth, a dare or a lie?

the time will come,
all’s said. it’s done.
The Moon tarotone soul alone will fly.

when love eludes me,
life excludes me,
hush now, don’t you cry.


©2015 Susan Macaulay. I invite you to share the links widely, but please do not reprint or reblog or copy and paste my poems into other social media without my permission. Thank you.