Winter Solace

You are the season of introspection

Shut-up, closed in, bundled in layers
Steamy cup of caffeinated something
to keep hibernation at bay.

Grey, shaded, muted, solemn

Drained, sapped, bled of blush and bloom.
I stand looking inward through the glass pane
That fixes the napping world a centimeter away.

Not to say you’re bad or hateful or unkind

You have worth in my eyes
And a kind of longing when you’re gone
A needed retreat from this world of ravel and fray.

You are the season I ask of myself

The existential questions:
Who am I? What’s my purpose?
Is this all? What is real? ...and I pray.

I pity the lands who only know

Sun and temperate climes
Never know a warming fire or
Solitude of quiet- a spiritual abbé.
                                                                              4/11/13

 

IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY – IMAGISM Poetic Bloomings

Imagism is the name given to a movement in poetry aimed at clarity of expression through the use of precise visual images. The early period often written in French form was Imagisme.Use the language of common speech, but employ exact words, not the nearly exact, nor the merely decorative word.
Try your hand at connecting with the Imagism spirit. Be descriptive and paint the visual picture. Good luck.

            Wintry Night

The sky is black and endless

with pinholes of light
that flicker
glimmers of white and blue.

The air is shivery cold

forced into lungs
with short painful gasps
of needlelike stabs.

The snow kicked up

by a stray gust
swirls a tiny tornado
of diamond dust.

The wind moans a fey song

in the trees, limbs sway
like a deranged dancer
moving only from the waist.

The silence is sudden, stark

filling the night with expectation.
A frozen branch cracks-
a cannon’s boom.

This wintry night,

breathtaking, lovely,
wild, alien
is crushingly lonely.