Honourable Mention goes to....Jeol.
Christmas Spirit
Another Christmas comes around;
People singing merrily.
Why all the joy of those surrounding?
Call me desolate, selfish;
I am a man of saving.
Money, money is the key;
Nothing else for me.
May I begin to understand
Why these people are so careless
They spend, spend to no end,
Just to give to each other airless.
Why? Why spend so much,
And use so much money?
Saving is not their care,
Debt in them ensnared.
Why this feeling of well-being,
Their senseless dreaming?
Money is screaming in their face,
Yet they ignore it and be jolly.
I wonder at their false security,
Be it Christmas this time of year.
Am I the only one left, it seems,
Of those who understand money?
I liked how you deviated from just using the plot wholesale from Dickens. Short, sweet, no fanciful words like Graham, but who says simplicity is any less valuable and enjoyable? It doesn't end the way Dickens wrote his novella, but it does give a new take on misers. It has a little modern touch, with the economy and all, and that gives credit as well.
Third place goes to...Graham.
Oh he was dead, dead, dead as a door-nail;
My right hand cut off, and brought back in chains,
He warned me so thorough, thriving in pain,
"Three ghosts will visit, heed their honest tale".
In the rush of the night, the concealed wails
sprung forthwith to show, morality's cane,
a lurid model, purgatory's plane.
My success was a veritable fail.
At first, I had a glimpse into my past.
Nostalgia plagued my ever-live senses,
Then visited my clerk, seeking their grace,
after that, theft, death, my own gravestone last.
I awoke, slipping down stairs of staunch pence
to spread Christmas cheer, prior not a trace.
You succintly summarised the story without harming the plot; and a short poem sometimes captures the attention of readers much better than a long one. I like the diction used, they were judiciously selected not overdone, not over flowery, but not banal either. A well rounded poem on the traditional Christmas tale.
Second place goes to Mav.
The Ballad of the Beggar
A lonely coin lives in my cup;
Rags lie upon my head.
No food nor drink have I to sup,
And stones make up my bed.
You meant not to stroll on this street,
But now you're here, indeed.
You quickly move your booted-feet,
And ignore those who plead.
My voice pines like a dieing flute,
But you hear not my call.
I see all of the destitute,
But you see none at all.
Now hark! And hear the orphan cry!
Hear how the widow weeps!
Do not ignore the poor who die
Alone within their sleep!
I do not mean to make a fuss,
But shackles bow your head!
For Scrooge dwells within all of us,
And all of us are dead.
It was nice to read a poem that wasn't written from the view of Scrooge once in a while. A little misanthropic and depressing for Christmas season, but it does show the painful truth of people left behind and how much more we can do; whilst reflecting perhaps rather despondently that everyone is inherently selfish. Admittedly though, it was a tad bit dark for my liking, but nonetheless, splendid job.
First place goes to.....Hypermnestra.
The audience members sit noisily down
In the worn, tired seats of the high school in town
Creak, go the chairs, as they strain with the weight
Of the Christmas spirit of "Go clean your plate!"
Behind the drawn curtain the actors all sit
Muttering about how it's "all stupid ****."
They've worked long to do this, but you wouldn't know
There aren't costumes, props, or make-up in this show.
A pause, then the curtains pull back to reveal
The cast of the show, then they start their spiel
The play wears on long, and everyone's numb
By the time of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come
They couldn't budget a real ghost, so they have a sheet
By this point, even the actors are beat
The heads of the audience droop down on their chests
Each cast member shoots glances away to the next
Then Scrooge grabs the only mic they could afford
And he brandishes it as though holding a sword
"What's the point?" he cries out, "of Christmas tradition?"
Silence; but the audience begins to listen
"What's the point of the trees, or the gingerbread house?
Or the plays, or the lights, or the caroling out?
They're all pointless, that's it, and don't say that they're not
In celebration of Christmas, I think you forgot.
It's not about presents, it's not about plays.
Look around you, this is a new kind of day
It's about new hope, not wasting your time
Not wasting your money, or their hearts, or mine!
Christmas spirit cannot be remembered
Any more than you can celebrate December
You celebrate the spirit of giving, and joy
But forget to do anything but go buy some toys
Look around you, we're all poor as dirt.
I'm being honest, even though the truth hurts.
So **** Christmas spirit, and **** this play too.
I'm saying it harshly, to get through to you.
That Christmas spirit doesn't matter at all
Any more than "Labor Day spirit" in Fall
Don't bother yourself with these songs or these plays
At this point, you're all getting carried away.
Call me Scrooge, but I don't think that it's fair
For you to think "Christmas spirit!" when you're just sucking air
This play is so worthless, you should all just go home
-Try to remember not to cry all alone-
If you had real Christmas spirit, then maybe you could see
That kindness and compassion don't need a holiday
If you're being kind just for Christmas, then quit
If you make a resolution, then try to keep it
As soon as break is over, no one cares anymore
Yes, put the stockings away, the lights you can ignore
They distract you to what Christmas is really worth:
That's nothing, by the way, so step away from the hearth
This time, keep the Christmas spirit the whole year round
Then Christmas can be worthless, yes, throw it to the ground
Christmas spirit isn't acting nice one week of the year
Just because it's Christmas, no, now listen here
If you want to be a Santa Claus, forget the stupid suit
Just go out there and buy a gift for the hobo drinking soup
Or the orphan, or the kitten, or-you must get the gist-
But do it to be nice, not because it's Christmas."
There was stunned silence in the audience below
As Christmas spirit died out, as their faces ceased to glow
They booed Scrooge off the stage, some threw chairs up at the set
What a lovely play, do you feel it's Christmas yet?
Whilst the rhyming was off at certain areas to be pedantic, it's a totally different take from the traditional interpretation of the novella. And yes, what you say through the poem is true; instead of being one-off kind souls at Christmas, one should strive to be so throughout the year. Creative, refreshing, and it did also capture the grumpiness of Scrooge excellently. It reminds us that more than a century after Dickens wrote his works, humans are still the same, the very fact that Scrooge was booed at all the more shows the hypocritical side of people who care mostly about their own joy behind a façade of pretentious sympathy. A complete story mixed into a poem, so kudos. Get your Christmas present from some mod. I suggest Frank, since dwarves look like Santa Claus.
So that's that guys! Good poems, everyone of you, a pity not everyone can get a merit for such efforts. If anyone wants a critique for their poems, just drop a comment.
Anyway, the theme for the next Contest is...(Assuming Wolf let's me choose), is more generic (Clap please), but maybe a little more cliche (Cue to groan).
Theme: Regrets and Resolutions
