Bah, Humbug! – a poem

The Yuletide tree is here and

The presents have been bought

The greetings cards are written

Yet I’m starting to get fraught

No turkey in the supermarket

No stuffing that I like

I’m not a last minute kind of girl

But I’m looking a sorry sight

The mince pies all have candied peel

That’s no good for me

So I have to find the time

To make my own, for my festive tea

The tree is looking bare

Will I have the time to decorate?

There’s presents yet to wrap

And I’m starting to deteriorate!

The joys of Christmastime

Have long since passed me by

And now I’m old and crabby

I’d rather curl up and die!

My misgivings are soon melted

Just like the season’s snow

When my boy reminds me of meaning

That you reap just what you sow

And although he no longer believes

In Santa Claus and such things

There’s hope written on his face

And that’s the joy Christmas brings

Ange Chan ©2015

Peter Capaldi tribute for the twelfth Doctor

Inside the TARDIS, from eleven to twelve

Into a Time Lord’s story we further delve

The transformation now starts to begin

But the essence of the man remains deep within

The secret of such terrific change

Is held inside a Gallifreyan’s stage

Two beating hearts and a new kidney

The ‘Time of the Doctor’ was when you would be

With Clara beside you on all your adventures

Some proved a challenge; some too mad to mention

A rock star’s entrance with wailing guitars

Meeting your match in Mayor Me/Ashildr

Chipping away through centuries of stone

Persistent in nature, killing time, all alone

Getting tied up in knots; the ultimate contortions

Facing solitary challenges of epic proportions

Dining with River at the Darillion Towers

Defeating the Daleks with all of your powers

A field full of hands force the ultimate decision

Then your pay in the future by Davros’ derision

Not always getting it oh so right

But never, ever giving up the fight

Clara gives strength whenever it’s needed

Also wisdom and knowledge; she’s a natural leader

Trap Street trickery hidden in plain sight

Ashildr again takes up the twelfth Time Lord’s plight

Confessional dial banishes him far away

Where Zygons and Angels terrorise another day

Bill and Nardole then took up the task

Of being companions, the ultimate ask

A Time for Heroes, a time for you

A Time for revealing who’s the ultimate Who

Puddles with girls chasing Bill round the universe

Victorian monsters under frozen Thames, adverse

You gave it your all, a professor’s view

Whilst protecting The Vault from secrets anew

So farewell Doctor, we must say goodbye

It’s time for a new chameleon to fly

A dozen transformations have now set you free

But the Time Lord lives on, always saving the galaxy

Ange Chan ©2017

A Christmas poem

So it’s that festive time of year

When moods are high; we’re in good cheer

A time when blessings are duly made

When dodgy songs are radio-played

All good taste goes out of the door

A tacky time unlike any before

With all that shines and glitters bright

We work all day and party all night

Presents bought for under the tree

And children’s faces light up with glee

A big fat bloke comes bearing gifts

A thousand Santas working their shifts

We make merry by displaying excess

(I’ll never fit into that party dress!)

A time for family, and time with friends

Endless TV repeats which never end

Another episode of Morecambe & Wise

We know the scripts; it’s no surprise

Christmas Carols sung from Cambridge Kings

The smells and tastes and joy it brings

Then on the big day we tentatively creep

At the crack of dawn when we should be asleep

To see if Santa came to deliver

Toys and presents; in anticipation we shiver

“He’s been! He’s been!” My boy will cry

The lights go on, and he’s not shy

In opening gifts to “oohs” and “ahhs”

From uncles, aunts and his Grandmas

A delight to treasure, as his childhood unfolds

But how many years will the magic behold?

Will he always believe that life’s filled with treasure

Will future Christmasses, always be a pleasure?

For when reality truly defrosts

A little is gained. A little is lost

So cling to your Yuletide traditions

Whatever they may be

Be it glitzy or traditional

It’s what makes your family.

Ange Chan ©2015