Linking with Shay's Word Garden Word List #9 (Joan Colby)
Come join the fun!
Every mile is two in winter. ~ George Herbert
The clocks of December move slow like a man with bad knees
Edging forward with scorn upon deaf ears
I try to ignore the feral breeze
And the rise of snow and it’s bitter sermon upon my face
If I had been newly kissed
The pressing feel would be gone like a gypsy in the night
Cold can be like fire’s touch when it is from the skull of a
deep frost
Stealing the feeling from our extremities
And leaving the deepest of aches in our bones
One that no anesthetic can remove.
This is a really intense depiction of all the cruelty of December
ReplyDeleteThanks Larry. It is not my favorite season, maybe you can tell. LOL
DeleteI know that feeling. As a lover of winter, I am more apt to lament that it is going by too fast, but there are days--even in high summer--when i feel exactly this way.
ReplyDeleteI guess we all have our days, and seasons. Thanks for such a wonderful prompt my friend!
DeleteGreat writing! You captured much of Joan’s style in your poem ….
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Helen. I really enjoyed yours!
DeleteThe line about fire and the skull of a deep frost is especially good, Carrie. I am really enjoying your poems these days - even more than before. You are writing at the top of your game.
ReplyDeleteAwww thank you so much Sherry! I find Shay's word lists really inspiring!
Delete"The clocks of December move slow like a man with bad knees" Oooh! Oooh! Fantastic!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Qbit!
DeleteCarrie, I got cold reading this. I was pre-conditioned by the TV weather person saying it may snow north of town but it will melt before it hits the ground. Your line about Gypsie leaving during the night? It reminded me of growing up and a caravan of Gypsies came into the farm neighborhood for almost a week. My mom put the scare into me, saying to stay close as the steal little boys. Again when we visited one time in the summer we went north a few miles to the Indian Reservation (Eastern Nebraska) for a Pow Wow show she worried all the time we were gone.
ReplyDelete..
Those days sound like a great story to tell Jim. Could become a fantastic novel.
ReplyDelete"The clocks of December move slow like a man with bad knees"
ReplyDeletei really liked that opening carrie. you have a lot of great wording in this poem, and the tone is very december. i enjoyed the read very much
Bone grinding cold is described so well here. I also am waiting for that spring birdsong!
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When I was evicted from the family home by my mother, my father rented a small room for me. But my mother and brothers believed that having HIV was my own fault – and that I deserved to be punished...I also considered myself unworthy and without hope... But I have a child and eventually I convinced myself to live for my child’s sake.
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