cold january
winds howl across barren ice
young boy scares frozen
merry christmas time
when hearts can reopen gifts
of old memories
Mummers Allowed In
By: Ash
when I was little, I saw a man in a dress
mask on his face, brassiere on his chest
scary to a youngster at Christmas time
only to a Newfoundlander best kind
twas a mummer you see
staggering door to door for a beer or a snart of whiskey
some of them danced, most of them sang
with a lot of them bumming for spirits and tang
I was frightened at first, hiding behind Nan’s holiday skirt
she told me not to be foolish, for they wouldn’t hurt
all they really want is to join in some cheer
cause they can only do so during this time of year
when I got older, I too put on a dress
covered my face, and did a jig to impress
the tradition of mummering is DNA to my folk
we share this island and we share this joke
if you see someone with mitts on their feet
an ugly stick in hand, walking the snow-fallen street
with humps on their back
like that Simani song, an old Newfie track
played on each occasion, there’s a callback to a time now old
when being out all night could catch you the devil’s own cold
but that was OK if you had a pint of rum
it got you home by the heat in your tum
if you come to Newfoundland at Christmas
be sure it’s not a mummer’s night…you do miss
smell of midnight mass
as elves move gifts from hiding
tease my Christmas heart
feeling deep inside
looking at a flurry sky
angels where I lie
a little bird sits
on a wire wondering where
it shall fly to next
in a strange city
both sitting at the bus stop
hoping that one’s home
my face lay against the sweltering rock
with one side toward the sun kisses
clouds above me stream along
shapes and sizes I make
a tickle breeze keeps me away from biting flies
my knee is skinned and bleeding a little
is it supper time
as a whistle blows
cars scurry home like ants
wait…is that a plane
then we jump
from the rocket-like stone
twist our ankles to the ouch side in
wince and run the whole field in one burst
we reach that one spot and act like kings for a summer second
looking down on the kingdom
running into battle against invisible soldiers
to break through to reach home
where there’s a bush with some berries
by the picket fence and an ant hill
I ate five
you a handful
back then…
back before supper
more comfortable
when I walk home in the fog
I recreate it
Once upon a time,
there was an angry little elf.
Who thought of absolutely no one,
but of only himself.
He’s always so mad,
which made the other elves very sad,
with his complaints that work, work, work,
was all they ever had.
Earth To Ash 