Just For You Poetry

Time to take the tree down
And cancel Christmas cheer
Put away the Christmas cards
All ready for next year

Cos no one's ever sent you
A card for quite a while
And yet you've still got hundreds
In one great bloody pile

Which every year...recycled
Are blue tacked on your wall
To show that you are worshipped
When you got bugger all

There's twelve from Uncle Albert
And nobody would know
He sadly got run over
And died ten years ago

And one says 'Love From Nanna'
Yet you would not confess
The card is someone elses
Miss sent to your address

One year your poor postman
Died of a heart attack
And while they tried to save him
You ran off with his sack

So keep them nice and tidy
I am sure you'll get some more
It doesn't really matter
'You don't know who they're for'..

So happy Christmas Susan
Phillip, Roger ...Angela
Mike and Janet...Sylvia
And all the folk you are

Jemima ...., Auntie Violet
Uncle Cyril ...John next door
Doctor Jones , and those who live
Next street at twenty four

Dear Harry,.... Cousin Julie
They will catch you in the end
Till then you'll still be popular
By pinching cards they send

Aw what a sad tale through the wonderful humour.I would think some people does this Steven, there is a lot of loneliness at Christmas..

I just love this! It's too funny, I had to laugh. I have to admit something though. I used to save cards from one Christmas to another if they were extremely pretty. I hated throwing them out and I liked how festive more cards looked (wherever it is that I put them). Now I use the cards to make more cards so I don't have to throw out the super pretty ones. Makes me feel better clipping and snipping instead of throwing them away. (Beauty doesn't belong in the trash). This year I made cards without using old ones and I had another thought...they're so pretty (if I do say so myself) that perhaps I should keep at least one from every year I make an original. I guess that's a different poem altogether.

Yeah, sadly I no longer send or receive Christmas cards but have a few old ones in the drawer gathering dust. The stanza where your subject nicks the postman's sack made me laugh out loud. Great fun and well penned.