A couple of poems on the theme of giving love not more stuff at Christmas!
When did stuff become a thing,
This need to have so much?
To stuff our houses and ourselves
Full of stuff.
Stuffing it into every nook and cranny,
Then we forget where we stuffed it,
So we go out and buy more of the same,
Stuffing it all in,
Stuffing ourselves full,
Constantly thinking about
Or talking about
Or buying or cooking stuff
To stuff our faces with,
Except for some strange reason,
It never seems to fill us up,
We still feel empty,
And we keep needing more,
More and more stuff.
Stuff has become synonymous with
Wealth, showing off, Elf on the Shelf.
Instagram doesn't work without stuff.
You're stuffed if you don't have
To keep up with the Joneses,
So you can tell them to get stuffed,
Without saying it to their faces.
Being stuffy means that
The only way you know
How to express yourself is through
The stuff that you have,
Whilst being a stuffed shirt.
Being stuffy and being huffy
Often go hand in hand.
Every time something comes along
That knocks the stuffing out of us
The only thing that makes us feel better
Is to go out and consume more stuff.
I wonder when we will realise
That it is all stuff and nonsense.
My heart is like a sieve,
Full of bullet-holes,
War wounds from
Water under the bridge.
I wear it on my sleeve,
So that the memories
Can slip through the cracks
And fade in the sun.
And in their place I plant
Flowers, I stuff the holes full
Of laughter and life
Belinda Raitt, from her poetry collection "A Reconectar - Poemas da Natureza / Reconnecting - Poems from Nature" available to buy from here and other bookshops)