Tis Christmas in the poorhouse
We’re locked up here with our shame
Till someone comes to claim us
We’ve nought but our given name.
There’s nay fun between in-mates.
Nay favour they can share
Except a wish for ‘more than this’
And some sorry Christmas fare.
Just enough to sustain us’
On chipped and rusted plates
One for every man and child,
Once you’re inside the gates
Its Christmas in the poorhouse
It’s a cold place anytime
But being here in person
No better than the swine.
No use a-complaining
When cold December snow
Ravages our interment
And steals the Christmas glow.
This is what we see of it
This is what we share
The frosty breath of the children
And the icy tears they wear.
Author notes
Rusty plates they would have been tin or enamel in that era.
A contest entry
- Christmas stories/memories and thoughts by cazzy71.
401 points, ended November 22, 20 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Folksy Christmas poems by ecrivain01.
625 points, ends December 3, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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really great piece
This is so unlike all the other entries,I like the message and thought behind this piece,it is well written and thought provoking. I would like to thank you for entering and send you my best regards. -
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Thank you for your kind message I am glad that you liked it
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just what I wanted to see, something different but still the effect of christmas
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Bandit Auction # 8
This is a sad reminder of the folks less fortunate than ourselves. The closing image of the frozen tears on childrens faces is heart-wrenching. I give humble thanks for the blessings I recieve and try to help others in need. Thanks for this poignant reminder.
It is a shame that it can't be counted in the Auction becaise it breaks rule # 1:
1] Add a link below to ONE ONLY of your poems, that has NEVER won a trophy (of ANY kind! This includes a restriction on poetry entered into contests not yet judged.)
May your Holidays be grand and may your muse be ever near in the coming new year. Write on dear Poet.
Brother Dennis
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Ah..what a description of the hard truths of the life is shared ..very touching piece you have created here..very thoughtful as well..
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Sometimes, when the holiday "blues" hit, it is good to be reminded that there are others for whom the holiday is NOT... although this is written in Dicken's style, there are many in real life situations like this... thank you for reminding us to be thankful for the riches we have.
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Original
This is just great and so different. Images of "Oliver Twist" style homes came to mind, but even worse! Rusty plates...ewwwwe! You really set the scene and I'm loving the last two lines; those freezing children with frosty breath. Acknowledging the less fortunate at this time of year...keeping it all in perspective. Well done...alby
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