Sitting on the railway station
Uncertain of my destination.
Bags all packed ready to go.
The trains all cancelled due to snow.
Christmas hours are catching up.
All stressed out and seeing red.
This morning trains are all disrupted.
The signals are all misconstrued.
Even the signal man is being rude.
People queuing on the station still.
Waiting for their Christmas fill.
Bags are loaded.
Overflowing.
Cash be spent
Often lent or borrowed.
Happy faces,
Super smiles.
Early morning.
Late night.
Christmas spirit.
Burning bright.
(c)LIVVI

There is a little hedgehog.
He's curled up in my nice snug bed.
His prickly spikes are scratching my face.
His fleas invade my pit.
Although my dog, she finds him irksome,
She does nothing about it.
She wouldn't dare.
It's only down to my good taste, all three of us can share.
I called my hedgehog a he.
Do you know what, I don't know if it's a he or she.
It's just a prickly pal.
I have no intention of checking the bits that matter.
Anyway, I don't really have a hedgehog in my bed.
If I did I'd need someone to come examine my head.
I do however have a silly sense of humour.
(c)LIVVI

Playing scrabble crazily,
I'm running out of words,
The flowers are all hiding,
Except of course the holly.
The children are all buzzing, like bumblebees on speed
Father Christmas counting cash to beat his little angels needs.
Mother always worries about how to count her money,
The bumblebees on speed just spilled all the honey.
"**** it", says mother the bank notes are all sticky,
Blooming mother, into crime has got to launder money.
It's very cold outside.
Those darned notes will never dry.
The children will not settle down,
and there's still a week to go.
They're looking at the green grass,
they're wishing it would snow.
I the poet doesn't want it too,
Makes my soggy feet all blue.
I guess it's back to Scrabble.
That was a bit of fun.
Mental exercise for a moment,
over and done.
(C) LIVVI

Standing by the soup kitchen,
Wrapped up in freezing cold.
Not very old in numbers,
but feeling rather old.
The townsfolk snub him,
They ignore his missus.
His fingers sparkle blue and red,
No magic lurks within.
His blanket's rather itchy.
the people passing by,
are either numb or ******.
get a job, they shout for sport.
their coffee cup, their only support.
It beggars belief that the poor souls get grief.
There for the grace of God go I.
(c) Livvi

Welcome to Aleppo
The land of hell on earth.
Where children take their first breath
And pass on date of birth.
Families proud who long for strength in sorrowful defiance.
Beaten back by mortal coils.
They rise, they fall.
They sail on in ignorance of what each new day may hold.
Still they toil.
Strive to survive.
Try not to fail miserably
From day to day.
As children play.
In piles of dust where strength of what was shelter, incredibly be bust.
The time is now to save their souls,
Live long enough to reach their goals.
Their stars are burning out.
(c)LIVVI
I'VE NEVER BEEN AND HAVE NO DESIRE TOO, IMAGINE HOW IT MUST BE FOR THE PEOPLE X

Paper wishes give
Carols Christmas ring allowed
Red tinsel hanging.
(c)LIVVI