Jonathan Benton – Making Scents of Christmas

jkbThis piece relates to my previous blog: ‘Writing when you haven’t got anything to write about’. I used to write poems in my spare time. Often just for a laugh. I wrote the following poem for my niece and nephew many moons ago. My nephew then read it to his class – I’m not sure his teacher was impressed! I borrowed the first two lines from Clement Clarke Moore’s Xmas poem. The rest is all mine. Feel free to personalise the names in the poem and hand it out to family and friends.






Making Scents of Christmas


Twas’ the night before Christmas when all through the house;

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

When all of a sudden, Tom woke with a start,

Surprised from his sleep by young Wendy’s fart.

‘Wake up!’ Tom cried. ‘You made a noise from your bum.

I’m telling Santa you farted, I’m telling our mum.’

But Wendy kept sleeping, unaware of her noise,

Dreaming of firemen and sailors, and other pretty boys.

Tom lay back in bed, until sleep he did slip,

When young Wendy Parker let another one rip.

This fart was much louder, with a voice of its own,

A mini explosion that made Tom groan.

Tom raised his hand, as if to whack her,

When out from her bum blew another cracker.

Wendy woke as Tom choked on her savoury smell

Smiled sweetly and whispered – ‘What’s up pal?’

‘Your bum is what’s up,’ Tom wept in disbelief.

To which Wendy replied with another loud beef.

That smelt of roast turkey, apple sauce and plum pud.

A touch of Christmas, and all things good.

And the moral of the story as you probably can smell –

We all know boys fart in bed … but girls do as well.



Writing when you haven’t got anything to write about – Jonathan Benton

minaea-desktop4-previewWinston Churchill is responsible for one of my favourite quotes: ‘If you’re going through hell, keep going’. Never, ever give up. The same is true with writing. Sometimes I sit staring at the computer and words refuse to flow – not even a drip. But words beget words. Write anything. Drips become trickles, trickles streams, which then become rivers.


Now that I’ve started quoting, I might as well have some fun, and build each paragraph around one. Oscar Wilde said: ‘I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again’.  Not much was happening for Oscar that morning … Or perhaps it was. Writing is all about rhythm. That comma could have made all the difference. Try reading Dr Seuss – the guy had rhythm. William Shakespeare did too. Good prose is often referred to as lyrical. At the very least, Oscar was trying to make things happen.


‘Shut down all the garbage mashers on the detention level’. I love Star Wars – every word, and each frame. But a garbage masher? Wouldn’t that be better suited to Sesame Street, not a Death Star? Writers have ‘off’ days, but if the end result is something as brilliant as Star Wars, even garbage mashers have a place.