PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

PoemSnow freezes in Royal Avenue,

accidental stars slip secrets in the frost.

I love the Old Man Ice Sculpture at Mcdonalds

and the German biscuit binfires in the streets.

Electric tinsel in the air strung on streetlamps,

perpetual neon wink of the Belfast Eye

in lazy orbit, perturbed in it's dominance

of the artificial glow of the City's mind's sky.

Kids climax in catalogues in Argos,

Fathers weep in the Ulster Bank on Donegal Sq.

and the old sit in Blinkers thinking who will be lost

in this year's season of Ribbons and Angels.

Deathly cold drips like stalactite from stars,

frozen tearsnots and rosy cheeked glow;

Poetry becomes slush at the feet of the populace

and the ghosts of Arcadia burn with good cheer

in the Kingdom of Fire and Ice.

Preachers warm the crowds with Virgin Births

and Santa Clause promises of Hell.

We have lived too long without Cinnamon Snow

so we gather in the thawing glow of the Market;

we drink our hearts and fill them with spices,

dribble happy red Christmas stains down on our bibs,

trip, staggering, stocious on the thatched mosaic floor.