Hiraeth

I listened to a poem this morning penned by the Welsh entertainer Max Boyce. Entitled, When Just The Tide Went Out he wrote it in tribute to the NHS and frontline workers in the UK who are so valiantly fighting to keep the corona virus at bay.

After hearing it through the first time I played it for my wife, and, only a few lines in, I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

The swell of emotion took me completely by surprise, but it was acute and visceral and has left me thinking about it for the rest of the day.

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Cinquain Santa

In three weeks time it will be Christmas day.

This means I have twenty-one days to summon up some Christmas cheer and get into the spirit of things.

It’s a tough ask.

Perhaps I should use my first faltering step into the not-covered-by-haiku world of poetry to highlight the particular Christmas issue I face.

Ladies and gentleman, may I present Santa: A Cinquain.

 

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