The Knights of Christmas
the knights of Christmas
Around the banquet table,
are full to bursting.
The old and young
clench fistfulls of cut meat, and
toss oaken red wine
down wide open necks,
and guffaw over conquest,
of the yester-year.
Something I wrote on Christmas day,
that never saw the light.
I glanced around the room and prayed,
for dinner to be light.
My stomach churned my head was foggy,
wishing I was groggy.
Instead, I let my chin hang wide,
and slept away my worry.
I hope you all had a splendid Christmas, and that you were so utterly full it disgusted you. My sister was recently married so, myself and the family, we spent Christmas with “The In-laws.” I was so full-to-bored, I wished for a whole bottle to myself—just to pass the time, and satisfy the images of drunken knights clattering around inside my skull—instead, I wrote this poem before shortly falling asleep.
Enjoy. Share. Comment. I would love to hear about your own Christmas misadventures.
May the inkwell never run dry,
© Iain Sutherland, 2014.
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