Happy Hanukah (Cheeerful Poem 17 )

 Hanukah's a festival of eight lights

You light one more candle every night

First the servant or helper, high or low

Which lights the others so they grow and glow

The old story tells of candles of oil

Pure oil for one night - the rest had been spoiled

That oil lasted eight nights, miracle, magic

Use oil, white wax, rainbows or electric

Oil hanukiah.

Eat olives and potatoes fried in oil

Carrot soup, chicken, baked or boiled

End - eat donuts with fruit coloured centres

A filling food, so warming for winters

Family and friends around the table

Take turns to spin the coloured dreidl 

It letters spell, 'a big miracle ... here'

Diaspora tops say, .'.. miracle there'

Right through the night, the candles keep burning

The sun still shines bright, the world keeps turning

Winter solstice means the shortest day

Each day longer days are coming our way

Lets us take hope from the happy, bright lights

As each day the sun sends us more sunlight

Let's hope the new year means wars will end

Yesterday's foes make tomorrow's friends.

-ends-

23rd December 2022

copyright Angela Lansbury

Useful Websites

The most amazing collection of hanukiahs, from magnetic travelling sets with candle included, to giant ones for community centres, from traditional silver-plated or mother of pearl, to diy paint the wood, concrete, tree of life, pomegranate, amusing ones for family photos, princesses, dogs, cats, footballs and sports, transport such as a bicycle, an old fire engine and a plane.

https://store.chabad.org/jewish-holidays/chanukah-hanukkah/menorahs.html?p=3&product_list_limit=all&product_list_order=price_asc

 

Children's Happy World (Cheeerful Poem 16)

 On Sunday, Granny cooks crispy biscuits

She looks very pleased when I say, "I like it!"

I say, "You cook so many, but there's never enough!"

Granny's always laughing - 'though grandpa's sick and gruff

When you're very small, the world's big of course

A neighbour's small dog looks big as a horse

You run and climb and feel so strong

Your hands grow big and your feet grow long

The garden is full of big butterflies

"Where are they going?" You wonder why

They seem to land on the petals of flowers

With hardly a rest they fly for hours

Mondays one day of the working week

When Dad's far away, too busy to speak

All week long the world takes tests

But on Sunday Christians make the whole world rest

The Christians wear clean clothes and new caps

And the rushing people have time to chat

On Saturday the Jews march past in black top hats

And mummy puts bow ties on both tom cats

On weekends the church bells ring and ring

From the street see brides, hear choirboys sing

We walk to the swings in the grassy park

Until street go quiet after dark

At dawn you hear the birds and the trains

And the neighbour's car starts up again

Then the big red bus goes thundering past

Mummy's busy with breakfast and household task

I make meals which no-one sees, 

Salad from red tomato peel and brown lettuce leaves

I travel with postage stamps and kiddie books

In hot air balloons which carry the cooks

I'm too busy reading to ever be sad

I'm too busy reading to ever be bad

I don't understand why some adults are stressed

My biggest stress is spilled milk on my dress

"Oh dear, Mummy, sorry, oh dear, oh gosh!"

But Mummy says, "It comes out in the wash ..." 

Childhood goes fast, these things don't last

But now that I'm running out of years

I don't waste time on temporary tears

Each year one more dear friend has gone

Just sigh, say kind goodbye, quickly move on

With a grandchild see the sun and rain

And live life's wonders over again.

-ends-

Copyright Angela Lansbury. November 29th 2022.

Comic Poems by Hazel Nutter: The Lost and Broken Umbrella (15)

Comic Poems by Hazel Nutter: The Lost and Broken Umbrella:  Red, bent umbrella. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright. 

I've lost my broken umbrella 

I'm sure you are wondering why 

I have lost my broken umbrella

So now I can see the broken blue sky.

It was bent, it was broken

I took a photograph

A picture is just a token

Of what I will do for a laugh

It's in the heaven with fellas

Who steal the broken umbrellas

I cannot complain about the cost

Of one I picked up, broken, then lost

Most of the umbrellas

Which are lost then found

Were broken and abandoned

Left lying, misshapen on the ground

After I troubled to save it

And put the ends back on the spokes

And tried to bend the spoke that was bent

Please find it for me, dear folks. 

This is the post which I adore

I've learned the parts, know so much more

Tips or ferrules fit on the ribs

I learned from Quora, I don't fib

The handle's what holds up the stick

Which part is that? 

The runners running up and down

Unless its broken, spinning round

The stretchers break, hang down, as spikes

The canopy is what I like

Lace or patterned, or just plain

Or telling you the sponsor's name

It sometimes has a long brown stain

It might be black, or could be brown

Maybe the tab which clips hangs down

Just good enough to take to town?

The ribs arch out, sometimes folding

Down to the handle you're fiercely holding

When skies turn grey do not forget

Umbrellas mean you don't get wet

I hope today skies find you fine

And if it rains - hope you'll find mine

And, if it's broken, bring it back

Another twenty's what I lack.

-ends-

Copyright Angela Lansbury. 2022. December 1st.