Originals – IV

In the past 3 Originals we have given a brief explanation of the poems featured, however this time I want to provide a collection of festive or seasonal poetry that should just be enjoyed and perused at your leisure.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Winter Song – Wilfred Owen

The browns, the olives, and the yellows died,

And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed

Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide,

And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed,

Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed.

From off your face, into the winds of winter,

The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing;

But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter,

When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing,

And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.


Untitled – Peter Rylands

The cold outside // The warmth within

Brushing my cheeks // Drowsing my eyes

My scarf’s knot tied // I am comfortable,

Though wind may blow // Sheltered and dry

And other elements try // I sit and carelessly stare

As people pass // Those who walk unknowingly by

In them I confide // What do you think?

My want of warmth inside // Whilst it is cold outside.

Book Of Chrismas Lyrics – Thea Gilmore (As chosen by Dr. Peter Kirwan of the UoN English Dept)

A week to Christmas

Cards of snow and holly

Gimcracks in the shops

Wishes and memories wrapped in tissue paper

Trinkets, gadgets and lollipops

As is through coloured glasses we remember the childhood thrill

Waking in the morning to the rustling of paper

The eiderdown heaped in a hill

Of dogs and bears and bricks and apples

The feeling that Christmas Day was a coral island in time

Where we land and eat our lotus

But where we can never stay

There was a star in the east

The Magi in their turbans brought their luxury toys

In homage to the child born to capsize their values

Wreck their equipoise

A smell of hay, like peace in the dark stable

Not peace, however, but a sword

To cut the Gordian Knot of logical self-interest

The fool-proof golden cord

For Christ walked in where philosophers tread

But armed with more than folly

Making the smooth place rough

And knocking the heads of church and state together

In honour of Him we have taken over the pagan Saturnalia for our annual treat

Letting the belly have its say

Ignoring the spirit while we eat

And conscience still goes crying through the desert with sackcloth round his loins

A week to Christmas

Hark the Herald Angels beg for copper coins

The Time to Wake – Peter Rylands

The time to wake,

After rooftop feet,

Childish excitement,

And thanks for what we are about to eat.

Piled up presents,

With the tree lit,

And adorned,

The fire roaring,

And tired eyes caught.

The Snowman – Wallace Stevens (As chosen by Jem Bloomfield of the UoN English Dept)

One must have a mind of winter

To regard the frost and the boughs

Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time

To behold the junipers shagged with ice,

The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think

Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land

Full of the same wind

That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

If you would like your poem to be placed in Poet’s Corner please submit to or

Pictures sourced from Flickr via Ross Pollack

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