Having had an excellent Christmas, a purely subjective comment, there comes a time when it is necessary to react. These poems are not supposed to be anything other than a reaction to the antics of this time of year.
When the wind cuts through your coat,
as you gaze out at the view,
then you know that the clouds float,
on turbulent air and then strew,
haphazardly across the chill, blue sky
to finally disappear from the eye.
Gazing out into the distance
thinking obliquely about the vision,
your mind interprets each instance
differently from every other’s decision.
Yet we perpetually attempt to agree,
that views perceived are the same to you and me.
So consider every view straight and oblique,
as you try to appreciate the attitude of others,
to be an experience singularly unique,
in the minds and eyes of sisters and brothers.
So don’t offend with interpretation pivot,
from the viewpoint of your twisted biscuit.©David L Atkinson December 2017
The big day has gone,
the big man has been,
the big blowout is over,
and what have we seen?
The bright smiling faces,
and distended bellies,
empty bank accounts,
and worn out tellies.
Another good year done,
all logistical battles won,
now it is time to close the banter,
and thank God that He created Santa.
©David L Atkinson December 2017