like the sun shone

for you

Tag: Winter

as winter rips

Leaves shiver so
as winter rips
as they cling to life

Birds peck frozen earth
as winter rips
as they cling to life

Woody blood slows
as winter rips
as they cling to life

Time is silent
as winter rips
as each moment

… dies

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A Winter’s Tale

~

How the moments meander
in eternal wonderlands of winter
where moonlight echoes the frost’s fragile crispness
with its silvern smile

and how these moments
create such silences …
such silences as when the robin
peeps out from the shadows
to see hands being held beneath alchemic smiles
of mystery and apprehension

How the moments meander
in the stillness of a windless cold morn
where skeletons reach to tickle the sky
with their frozen fingertips

and how these moments
create such solitudes …
such solitudes as when one remaining leaf
shivers in its ache to be free
to fall, to be taken by a breeze, to land
to die in her arms, to be loved once more

How the moments meander
within the poet’s eternal darkness
where shards of shadows fall to create an eternity of black ice
with their cold cold smiles

and how these moments
create such fragility …
such fragility as when he looks up
he sees time, nature and the beauty of life – frozen
and so he paints himself a winter’s tale
where passions burn and her soul melts the snows of his loneliness

The end of summer

~

The coffee sits cold and forgotten
a liquid shadow in the silence of night
where movement becomes ethereal and silken
with a touch of the butterfly
as she kisses the gravestones of summer goodbye

and so we look for the warm remembrances
of times spent allowing our skin
to feel the heat of life’s caresses
as we wash the coffee cups
thinking and dreaming
of how warm autumn nights
will turn into the heat
of passion-fuelled winter evenings
where the beat of the butterfly’s kisses
echo ‘neath the stars
echo in the dark
echo to the beat of skin kissing skin

kissing skin

kissing skin

kissing skin …

Virgin Earth

A themed challenge on Winter.

***

Ears on fire
fingertips hurt
pin cushion cheeks
a nose that’s burnt.

All this pain
I will endure
on a morning like this
air crisp and pure.

Ducks do practice
for Dancing on Ice
A Heron to judge
a look that could splice.

Further along
the canal takes a twist
where skimming snowflakes
a winter morn’s bliss.

All this happens
while you’re so fast asleep
you miss the wonders
of mid-winter’s treat.

So do what I do
and wake with the birds
put on your clobber
and tread virgin earth.

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