A Wintry Day

Woke up this morning and peeped through the curtains to see

A white snowy blanket as far as the eye could see.

Crawled back into bed feeling heavy with cold

My head ached, my throat sore, my nose red and I'm feeling old.

A few hours later, I get up to see

Snow falling over garden and tree.

Well I must go out now, snowing or not,

Out comes warm coat, gloves, scarf and hat.

Trudging along in my shiny blue wellies

Leaving footprints wherever I go,

Slipping and sliding all over the snow.

Now just look what I've done.

I slipped down the steps on to my bum.

I think I've only hurt my pride,

But I'll be glad to get back inside.

S Myers, Richmond.

Bauble

A shining ball on the tree,

A bauble lots of people call me.

I go up on the tree with all my friends,

And then weeks later all the fun ends.

Another year still to come,

So in the attic I'll sit on my bum.

Stuart Watson (aged 9), Darlington.

Happiness Is...

Happiness is wearing any clothes which are pink.

Happiness is playing with my favourite toys.

Happiness is waking up early on Christmas morning to a huge pile of presents.

Happiness is reading a very interesting story.

Happiness is a large bowl of delicious chocolate ice cream.

Happiness is going to swimming and gymnastics lessons.

Happiness is being lucky enough to have a warm, comfortable home.

Happiness is holidays in sunny Italy.

Happiness is having a kind and considerate older brother.

Happiness is lots of friends who care about me.

Happiness is enough food never to feel really hungry.

Happiness is a lovely teacher at school who helps me to learn.

Happiness is having a fit and healthy body.

Happiness is having an active and inquisitive mind.

Happiness is my Mummy and Daddy, who love me dearly.

Happiness is the precious gift of being one of God's special children.

Ciaran Jasper (aged 6), Sedgefield.

Day Dreaming

I wish I'd been there when Earth saw the Star,

That beckoned the Wise Men and Kings from afar,

I wish I'd been present when God halted the light

A jewel in the sky of black velvet - midnight.

I wish I had stumbled on the stable below,

Wooden doors open wide, from the lantern a warm glow.

And there in the corner, the ox and the ass,

Quietly chewing on corn and grass.

I wish I'd been there to turn slowly around,

And see the wooden manger firmly set on the ground.

Asleep in the hay, in a blanket warm and cosy,

Lay this tiny babe, dimpled cheeks rosy.

I wish I could have said to Mary, His mother,

"Dear Lady, I pray, if it's not too much bother,

May I pick up your Babe, hold Him close to my heart,

And I promise my love for Him will never depart.

But all I have is the old Bible story,

Of God's chosen Son, in all His glory,

And I must believe it and forget silly wishes,

And stop this day dreaming, while washing the dishes.

Olga Ramshaw, West Rainton.

Real Meaning Of Christmas

We all know of a special baby, born 2001 years ago.

His parents were poor, they had nowhere to go.

So they settled in a stable, He was born there,

The animals kept him warm, because he was bare.

He grew up to do great things,

Even though he was a modest boy.

He had no computer, mobile phone,

Or a Gameboy.

He performed miracles

He showed great love,

With the guidance from His father

Up above.

So let us remember the real meaning of Christmas.

It is not how much you eat, or drink,

Or how much money you spend.

It is about love and forgiveness

And if you can help a friend.

Emma Thomas, Darlington.

Until

Until you have walked in my shoes

And walked my path of life

And truly understand

The core of my very being -

Do not judge or speak against me.

Until you have found all the answers

Amid the accumulation of my life,

And are able to remove all pains

And those passed on to me -

Bear with me, just accept me.

Until you hold all the power

To see my past and all beyond

And unless you hold the wisdom

To guide me, and to heal those wounds,

Just love me. Just be with me.

Marge Mason, Newton Aycliffe.

The Quiet One

He left the group of Beatles' mania

In youthfulness, there were no boundaries.

All or nothing was his aim in life.

In fame he rides upon his name.

George Harrison, the quiet one,

Amid The Beatles' rock 'n' roll years.

Songs that live on renowned around the world.

My Sweet Lord marked upon fame,

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

And Here Comes the Sun

Something out strides, in wakeful dreams.

Solitude he sought, spiritual he found

In life's depths, genius bound.

His name lives on within the halls,

Immortality, a legend being founded.

Mabel Maryse Johnson, Newton Aycliffe.

Christmas Eve

I sit beside the window and

Watch the fading light

Casting shadows over housetops,

Street lamps burning bright.

The moon with shrouded crescent

Stars twinkling in the sky,

A shooting star begins to fall

As clouds pass slowly by.

The sound of church bells ringing

People passing to and fro

Children pulling sledges

Their footsteps covered with snow.

A coalman with his horse and cart

Delivers coal from door to door,

His faithful dog beside him,

Sometimes stops to lick its paw.

Children laughing in the street

Throwing snowballs in the air and

Dancing round a snowman

In the middle of the square.

The church choir singing carols

Around the Christmas tree

With coloured lights and holly

And some mistletoe maybe.

The night is getting colder now

As I close the curtains tight.

Wind whistles through the keyhole

As the frost begins to bite.

I move closer to the fireside and

Sit in my rocking chair,

My eyesight's not so good these days

And the pains are always there.

I close my eyes and reminisce

Of Christmas long ago

When Santa and his reindeers

Came gliding through the snow.

Eric Alderton, Peterlee.

The Sinking Sailor

Seconds away from drowning,

Spluttering in the thrash,

My shipmates long since swallowed up

Where icy bicepped bray-waves crash.

So tiny in the briny,

Strewn wreckage spewn around,

A grey sky, bleeding wind and spume,

Engulfed by somersaulting sound.

Pounding my lash-out panic,

I feel the frothy drag

Fetching its wild spreadeagled heave,

Pulling me down like a dishrag.

To emerge, drenched and bedraggled

In perspiration sheets,

Gasping and exhausted

As the fever overheats.

David Coates, Shildon.