Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

  Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house Nothing was stirring, except a woodlouse Crawling out of its hole in the trunk of the tree That we’d put in the lounge – it was Christmas, you see. It was already rotten and structurally weak It began to lean over, an ominous creak Could be heard, then soon after, an almighty crash. As the tree hit the floor and the baubles were smashed. At the sound of the racket we came down the stairs And surveyed the grim tableau in utter despair Could we rescue our tree, now reduced to a shrub? Concluding we couldn’t, we went to the pub.

Every so often at Yorkshire Writers' Lunch we like to collaborate in some way. In the past this has manifested as episodic narratives to which multiple lunchers contributed: The Year of Darkness, Passport, Platform 3 and Collier's Creek to name but a few. However last Christmas we tried something new: a poetry challenge. As the title of this post suggests, we took the opening lines of A Visit From St Nicholas by Clement Clark-Moore and penned a new verse, one that imagined a different creature that wasn't stirring. In time for this year's Christmas, we will be posting the resulting poems for your amusement. After all, a silly poem deserves to show off in public. If you'll permit the early festivities, here follows the first adaptation of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas as penned by Tim Taylor...

  I’m not sure about this. I’ve done it often enough before, but this time, ideas seem a bit elusive. Maybe they’ve gone on a walk without telling me. Typical! Just because my walks are shorter than they used to be, They’ve decided to go on their own and have more fun. Mind you it’s easy for them, floating on a breeze or down the river. Not even the lock gates on the canal will hold them back. And with all that freedom, they won’t be back for a while. But what about genre ? So many. Which to choose? Committing a crime? ‘Sergeant Jerome Clerkenwell Investigates’ or ‘Chief Inspector Alexandra Spottiswood and the Ludgate Gang.’ (It looks like some of the ideas might be back from their walk!) Crime sure is tempting, but it’s my default genre. Maybe I should have a change. Hunting for horror? Ghosts, ghouls, wolves (were or not). That locked room, the plunging lift. The two-headed monster. Well, maybe not. I’ve got a feeling with me at the helm it would...