Clouded with snow
The cold winds blow,
And shrill on leafless bough
The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun,
Day’s journey done,
Sheds its last ebbing light
On fields in leagues of beauty spread
Thick draws the dark,
And spark by spark,
The frost-fires kindle, and soon
Over that sea of frozen foam
Floats the white moon.
Note: This poem is part of the public domain and can be found here. Walter John de la Mare (1873-1956) was an English poet, novelist, and short story writer. He’s best remembered for his works for children, along with his acclaimed selection of psychological horror stories, such as “All Hallows.”
Continue reading “Question Wintertime (a haiku)” →
A sudden terror churning
Sitting on the death
Frozen hands, breath on my neck
Morning fell upon her way of death
Clouds and snowflake tremors
She adored my footsteps through the snow
Killed the last of the living angels
Shivered the dark sound with a passing murmur
Struck by a passion for her blue eyes
Hibernating weird cold winter smells
Laid her hand on the winter moon
Everyone she sealed behind the curtain
And the ghastly stifled screaming
Drained her lovely face, delightful dismay
She gazed on the old moon as her fate
And slipped into dreaming states
Snowbound, locked inside
Continue reading “Snowbound (a tanka)” →
City is frozen
The scrape of shovels
Flurries keep falling outside
Inside, I’m warm with a book
Chapped and dry hands
Continue reading “Cold Wind, City Nights (a haiku)” →
Cold wind in the city nights
Moon laughs from above
Cold, frosted flowers
Withered and half-dead
Held in burning hands
Let this disease spread
Under cloudless skies
Mornings are so bright
Winter always lies
I’m preparing for tonight
When my eyes open at last
And see my lover’s face
Through the creaky windows
Comes the chilly draft
She’s held in my embrace
Frosted flowers, burning
In my withered hands
Minutes like hours
In the balance
My winter life stands
(Photo by Ankhesenamun on Unsplash)
Transit of my soul
From numbing place to place
Dark nights, howling winds
Rattling of a rib-cage window
Naked moon glares above
Skeletal grind and pain
A refrain from dream-cities
Nestled inside the house
Winter chill, freeze-agony
Red lights glow from
Listen to the wind
It never lies
(Photo by Brianna Santellan on Unsplash)
Winter is a time for healing.
Cold, gray mornings and a pallid moon hangs in the sky.
Bundled up to protect my heart.
My heart is a fireplace, radiating from the center of my chest.
My lover comes close, we warm ourselves.
Winter is a time for healing.
Continue reading “Winter is a Time for Healing (a poem)” →
Birds migrate south, leaving us to think of what we’ve done and how we can make the world a better place.
We take inventory of our souls.
Nature retreats, but it’s only regenerating.
Without winter, there’s no spring or summer.
We snuggle into the season with our lovers, and I clasp my rosary as I pray to the God I want so desperately to believe in.
You called me over the airwaves
I had nothing to reply
Golden light bathed my face
Amid soft winter wind like
Time frozen in the seasonal cycle
I heard your sweet voice call,
But I could not answer
I needed my solitude
Don’t we all need time alone
To regenerate the parts of ourselves
Crowded out by madness?
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