<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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Christmas Eve in Dad\u2019s kitchen<\/strong><\/p>\n and now only I know which bits of Delia The Dairy Book of Home Cookery (1968) jug for the cranberry jelly, and why eight pints bread sauce and white sauce and people rich food is bound to make them thirsty. on the cake beside the bald tree, and Santa the two sets of hoof-prints behind his reindeer. to warm up, and what she would have done When everyone\u2019s asleep, only I know and breathe her in. It almost works.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Alison Binney<\/strong> is an English teacher and poet from Cambridge. This year she was longlisted in the National Poetry Competition, Highly Commended in the Bridport Prize, and had two poems published on buses in Guernsey. Her website is:\u00a0https:\/\/alisonbinney.co.uk<\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Season\u2019s Greetings from the Heart<\/strong><\/p>\n When you greet me at Arrivals Outside Aeropuerto de Barcelona-El Prat I match your step \u2013 feel I tell you that a promise can dissolve We leave the glitz <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Kathryn Alderman<\/strong>:\u00a0 Publication online and print includes: Amaryllis, Atrium, Bonnie\u2019s Crew, Eye Flash Poetry Journal, I Am Not a Silent Poet, The Cannon\u2019s Mouth. <\/i>She won Canon Poet\u2019s \u2018<\/i>Sonnet or Not\u2019 (20120. She co-chaired Gloucestershire Writers\u2019 Network (2016-19).<\/i> https:\/\/ <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Feast of the Epiphany<\/strong><\/p>\n And any minute now those kings will come Today our beautiful daughter is twenty-one far too many bottles of wine, I have bought are over. She\u2019s a woman now, there\u2019s no denying it. she will be ours. She has your hair, my legs, like a mermaid on a warm rock, because no lullaby would pacify her. She is in love, you can see it in her eyes, to deceive, she has that innocence that, if you breathe, never did. She did not happen. She is only <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Carole Bromley<\/strong> lives in York where she is the stanza rep and runs poetry surgeries. Winner of the 2019 Hamish Canham Award, her most recent publication is a pamphlet, Sodium 136, <\/i>about the experience of brain surgery.\u00a0https:\/\/ Christmas Eve in Dad\u2019s kitchen and now only I know which bits of Delia we follow, which we skip, and what The Dairy Book of Home Cookery (1968) still knows best. I know to find the stump-handled jug for the cranberry jelly, and why eight pints of milk is probably just enough, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[114],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20859","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-twelve-days-of-christmas-201920"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20859","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20859"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20859\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20862,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20859\/revisions\/20862"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20859"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20859"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20859"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nwe follow, which we skip, and what<\/p>\n
\nstill knows best. I know to find the stump-handled<\/p>\n
\nof milk is probably just enough, factoring in<\/p>\n
\nwanting extra cups of tea because so much<\/p>\n
\nI know how to arrange the little cottage<\/p>\n
\nlisting up the piped path, know even to dib<\/p>\n
\nI know when to fetch the turkey from the garage<\/p>\n
\nwith the giblets, which I won\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\nI open the jar of cloves she sealed last year<\/p>\n
\nI see that you are broken.<\/p>\n
\nrainy streets hemmed with aerial lights
\nShopping Gods gorged on good cheer
\nrelentless, joyous tunes \u2013
\nbut we\u2019re indifferent
\nto their raucous carolling
\npress on past cutsie gluhwein huts
\nglutted shop windows \u2013
\ntheir Chi Chi headless manikins.<\/p>\n
\nyour arm seek mine \u2013 know
\nall you want for Christmas<\/em>
\nis him.<\/p>\n
\nas a passion on the lips
\ncan turn to mist
\nwhat\u2019s real is life dropped at the doorstep
\nto come running.<\/p>\n
\nfor alleys silvered in puddles of moon
\nforage for lost scraps of heart \u2013
\nwe\u2019ll pocket them.<\/p>\n
\ncrashing in with their unwanted gifts.<\/p>\n
\nand we are having a party. You have opened<\/p>\n
\nthe wrong flavour of crisps. Her tearaway years<\/p>\n
\nSoon she\u2019ll be a wife, maybe a mother but always<\/p>\n
\nour sense of humour. She loves the sea,<\/p>\n
\nshe loves Keats. I read it to her in the cradle<\/p>\n
\nShe loves log fires, badgers at nightfall.<\/p>\n
\nshe cannot hide it but then, we didn\u2019t raise her<\/p>\n
\nthe bloom is gone. But she does not breathe,<\/p>\n
\na fairy under a hedge, the first snowdrop.<\/p>\n