<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
So, This Is Christmas<\/strong><\/p>\n Your mouth\u2019s stuffed with tinsel; Holly scores your forehead You\u2019re becoming obese: Quick, open a window, taste <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ben Banyard<\/strong> lives in Portishead, where he writes poetry and short fiction. His work has appeared in Shortlist Magazine, Sarasvati, Snakeskin, The Stare’s Nest, Ancient Heart, Nutshells & Nuggets, I Am Not A Silent Poet <\/em>and Fry Your Friends.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n A Satsuma for Ann Sansom<\/strong><\/p>\n Instead, I bet you got a Terry\u2019s chocolate orange it was Solstice – not Christmas, shepherds, flocks, the First On our street it soon waned to just a paring – dulled, mooned The magi maybe came and went, but it came back, the snow, before we can out the old, bring in a new moon, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sally Goldsmith<\/strong> is a singer as well as a poet. Her pamphlet SInger<\/em> was a winner in the Poetry Business Pamphlet Competition and she was commended in the 2012 National Poetry Competition.\u00a0 Smith\/Doorstop published her first collection Are We There Yet?<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" So, This Is Christmas Your mouth\u2019s stuffed with tinsel; it bristles in your throat, just as glitter cakes your eyes. Holly scores your forehead and you lose crowns on the secret flaming sixpence. You\u2019re becoming obese: heart\u2019s wreathed in goose fat. Fairy lights cable your ankles. Quick, open a window, taste the […]<\/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":[37],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7953","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-twelve-days-of-christmas-2014"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7953","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=7953"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7953\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23957,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7953\/revisions\/23957"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7953"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7953"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7953"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nit bristles in your throat,
\njust as glitter cakes your eyes.<\/p>\n
\nand you lose crowns on the
\nsecret flaming sixpence.<\/p>\n
\nheart\u2019s wreathed in goose fat.
\nFairy lights cable your ankles.<\/p>\n
\nthe frost, be a mistletoe friend,
\na mulled, spiced berry.<\/p>\n
\nin your stocking. But hey – at least this year the snow \u2013
\nlike Bing\u2019s dream \u2013 was deep and goosey, and the moon
\nwas full, and when the sun eclipsed it on the twenty first –<\/p>\n
\nNowell \u2013 and it was shot deep red like a blood orange
\nin the morning sky. The park was deep, crisp and even the snow
\nwas brighter, whiter than the sulking, brooding moon.<\/p>\n
\nitself over the sun on the 4th January when it returned it\u2019s own first-
\nin-the-year eclipse, biting out hot flesh like a segment of orange
\nand the park was dimmed and\u00a0 tried to remember the melted snow.<\/p>\n
\njust the day after, and with it the new we-will-rock-you moon.
\nQuick – take down flashing santas, snatch a mistletoe kiss, and first
\neat up each slice of stollen, stilton and that Terry\u2019s dark orange<\/p>\n
\nwelcome new epiphanies of snow. I\u2019ll give you this satsuma.<\/p>\n