Warm skin prickles
gooseflesh over skin
Words left unsaid
leaves scar tissue
Warmth left unsung
holding on to winter
Words left unspoken
leaving on the wind
Category: winter
Red Cedars
Sitting at the window watching
the way snow falls on red cedars.
Night crept up too quickly
as the days shorten to hours.
You are never far from my mind
as your tree grows taller and redder.
Snow covers our world of love,
and the red cedars stand tall.
The red cedars stand tall;
they are a reminder of the blood
and the way you passed from light,
sitting at the window, watching the
way snow falls on what was our love.
Looking Upwards
The many, the masses,
never look upwards.
There is the sky, patterns,
and ceilings of Filigree up there.
The many, the masses,
looking towards nothing.
There.
Up there is where
I go often;
looking upwards,
when they look towards nothing.
Missing Melbourne
You walked in the busy city, stopping to wait for the right light.
A quick snap below of what’s above, reminds you of Winter’s day.
Looking back, you stare at the image of Melbourne town.
There is a silent way about the grey; a stillness in the sky.
Perhaps you will again see Melbourne moving on a winter’s day.
The Change
Howling from the forest,
Wintertime is on the way.
A sea breeze turns wild,
Clouds move overhead.
Woods once silent, now
move in urgency to the sky.
Many crows do fly across the sky,
To show us a Portent of death.
Snow Shapes
Standing in the snow,
so alone with no one.
Tears of anger fall fast,
freezing into shapes.
Standing in the forest,
swearing about snow.
Fears fade with the tears
as you look at the shapes.
Young and Foolish
Lips of rose, powdered ivory cheeks,
dark long hair moving as she moved,
eyes of violet ice, mitten coal hands.
She was a flower blooming and dancing
for freedom on the lake that snowy day.
I was only a young, foolish boy watching
the way she moved, captivated, knowing.
Lips of rose turned white, ivory cheeks froze,
dark long hair became still, her eyes closed,
the mittens no longer danced in the snow.
I fled from her stillness, forever running from
that beautiful face I never stopped to love.
Night Kiss
Obscured by darkness
Revealed by moonlight
Beauty amongst roses
Ugliness in those eyes
Purring for a night kiss
Lips cold as winter ice
Like the Sun
Version 1
Like the sun,
you bloom spring colours.
Attentive,
you behave like the snow.
I cannot decide
if you are the
sun or the moon.
I like to think
you are both
the sun and the snow;
beautifully complete.
Version 2
Like the sun,
you bloom spring colours.
Attentive,
you behave like the snow.
Like the moon,
you mesmerise, lighten.
I cannot decide
if you are the
moon or the sun.
You are many.
Sun and snow,
moon and sun,
winter and summer,
autumn and spring.
Notes
I thought I would show you multiple versions of a similar poem, as this is often the creative process I go through to get to a final version.
I’m interested to know which one you like better.
The Cat & Jam
Yesterday’s hearts weigh heavy
on the years lived in the past.
Time does not wait for hearts to be ready;
hearts must be ready and waiting for all time.
Couch surfing alone. The house is cooking.
The night is cold, clear, calm, and crystallising.
A meow from the laundry tells her the cat
wants food, or else she will be the next meal.
Crashing and banging in the laundry as bowls,
teaspoons, detergent, all of it gets a workout.
The cat sits starring at the strange figure,
wondering why food is so difficult to provide.
Friends again after the feeding, yet she feels
peckish for insomnia and jam are no strangers.
She sits on the fence, mulling over a decision,
until the desire for sweetness outweighs reason.
C & K 