For this contest there are two finalists,

Please read the poems below and clink the link to vote for the poem you like best.

Contest Image

The Family Holiday Table

By: Paleoray

While turkeys are roasting

With stuffing within;

There’s dining room magic

Outside the kitchen.

A table is set there

With linens and lace;

And all of the silver

Is polished and placed.

The centerpiece features

A dazzling display

Of lovely red coneflowers

In wondrous array.

Each setting has name card

In front of each plate;

And all of the crystal

Has wine glass for mate.

The napkins are silken

In rings with a fold;

Where each band is sterling,

With rims that are gold.

The candles are garnished

With pumpkins and pine;

While each sits near grapes

That are picked from a vine.

The trivets are laid out

For birds and the beans;

As dishes are brought out

With yams and some greens.

The pies are on sideboards -

Both pumpkin and spice;

And rolls are in baskets

With linen so nice.

The turkeys are ready -

The candles are lit;

The fire in the fireplace

Warms room up a bit.

Then all become seated,

While each bows their head;

As host says a prayer,

And the blessing is said.

Hooam Harvest - Early 19th Century

By: Alex Tanner

The corn was crowned with flowers,

The supper all was spread

On tables rough that filled the barn,

All round was beer in kegs.

The harvest safely gathered,

The puncheon was all supped,

The labourers was gathered:

Carters, Shepherds, and such.

The Blacksmith and the Carpenters,

Apprentice boys as well,

All who had helped with the harvest

Were welcome, the throng to swell.

The farmers wife was busy

Helped by many hands,

To set the harvest supper:

Beef, Mutton, Plum Pudding, Ham.

The company soon was seated

With master at the fore

To carve the mighty vittals,

To feed the ravenous hord.

Then came the jugs of stingo,

Pipes, Tobacco, Grog;

They then took turns in singing,

Some worse than masters dogs.

'Lumps o' Pudden', The Spotted Cow',

'Will the Weaver' and more,

'The Maiden's Complaint', they all rang out,

And the roof raised with the roar.

As the moon rose over cowshed

Each wended home to bed,

A harvest safely gathered;

Thank the Lord for giving bread.

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