A Christmas poem

  And so Happy Christmas…


Oh won’t it be fun

when the family comes

for Christmas?

There’s Aunty Beth

who’s arrived in a mess

and every decision is double the trouble

which triples the bills

of all of the other

aunties and sisters and cousins and brothers

and won’t it be fun

when the family comes

for Christmas?

We’ll play charades

that’s for sure

remember last year

and the broken screen door?

Well that was a sister in a blistering rage

taking sides

calling a shovel a spade

oh won’t it be lovely

won’t it be fun

when the family comes

for Christmas.

Now the little one loves it

for her it’s such fun

dollies galore and pink by the ton

she doesn’t quite it

the sub-text that’s there

the background flow of old treasons and reasons

the confusions of family that are not always clear

but maybe that’s why she cries on the stair

sucking her thumb and stroking her bear

oh it’s always such fun

when the family comes

for Christmas.

There’s Uncle of course

who once was a banker

but something snapped and now,

well, he’s a wanker

with signs that are rising

and crystals aspiring

to make his life better

which is all very well

might even be swell

if it wasn’t for wifey

who’s feeling quite knifey

and has only just found

that the spiritual epiphany

that’s become quite the litany

is due to the presence of a Dutch supermodel

and not, as she thought, a bunch of old twaddle

oh isn’t it fun when the relatives come

to stay in the house at Christmas?

As for my steps

and the half-baked attempts

to pretend we’re all jolly

it’s way beyond me

I’ve gone off my trolley

the passive-aggression of the visiting drunk

who blows smoke in our eyes

while we’re eating our lunch

what can she see in him…

we all crowd around

can’t she tell he’s a bounder

a rat and a cad

no doubt about it, thoroughly bad

staying for days –

how delightful we cry

filling the house with emotional haze

saving the break-up

which inevitably comes

to have here at Dad’s

why not at Mum’s?

Oh isn’t it jolly

isn’t it fun

isn’t it lovely

when the family all comes

for Christmas!

Copyright Candida Baker 2011

The Shadow


It seems like only yesterday…

The Shadow


My daughter found her shadow

Bubby! Bubby! She called to it

Lifting each leg

And waving her arms

Bubby!  Bubby!

She marched

And crawled

And patted it

And as the waves lapped at her feet

Concerned for its safety

She called to it again;


And toddled it to higher ground.

As I bent to gather her up

She waved her ams wide

In a gesture of farwell

Ah…Bubby, she sighed


Prose, poetry and pictures


Welcome to my new blog.

Sometimes I think that the hardest thing in the world for a writer to do is actually write words out of the blue for no particular reason other than – well, it’s fun and it’s What We Do.

I have been a writer, journalist, editor, photographer and horse lover for many years, and I also have an interest in all things spiritual, and in nature, which is perhaps my greatest source of inspiration.

My world is a universe of prose, poetry and pictures – I hope you enjoy it…


The sliver of ice

It was so very nice

It dwelt in my heart for years

I knew when it left

I would be bereft

I knew it would lead to tears

Then you came along

With your sweet sexy song

You cut out the ice

With your very own knife

Love flooded in

Where the coldness had been

And my body gave way to fire

But now I was razed

On the flames of desire

Left bleeding alone and crazed

What can I do but lick my wounds

Read the cards and cast the runes

And pray that the ice

Will take its place

Cover the bleeding

Without a trace

And dwell in my heart once more