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Archive for the ‘winter’ Category

Winter-Time

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding-cake.

-Robert Louis Stevenson

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Fishing in Winter

A man staring at a small lake sees

His father cast light line out over

The willows. He’s forgotten his

Father has been dead for two years

And the lake is where a blue fog

Rolls, and the sky could be, if it

Were black or blue or white,

The backdrop of all attention.

He wades out to join the father,

Following where the good strikes

Seem to lead. It’s cold. The shape

Breath takes on a cold day is like

Anything else–a rise on a small lake,

The Oklahoma hills, blue scrub–

A shape already inside a shape,

Two songs, two breaths on the water.

-Ralph Burns

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Today’s poem of the day, entered by Michelle. 

The Wintered Soul Among Wisteria
Originally published in SP Quill Magazine as the Word Wizard Challenge Winner

One need not read her horoscope to know
this woman’s fate, and though wisteria
cascades sweet blooms of lavender like snow
outside her door, it’s still Siberia
pervading the dimensions of her mind,
for not one fickle thought or patch of moss
can thrive where bleakest shadows are enshrined.
No bittersweet, no dewdrops… only loss
surrounds her heart. She tries to reminisce,
but like a barren continent grown cold,
she can’t perceive one particle of bliss.
She’s clasping grief and cannot be consoled!
Wisteria’s perfume is in the breeze,
but in her soul remains a winter’s freeze.

© Andrea Dietrich, SP Quill Magazine
Spring 2006, Volume 10

And the why:

Clearly this poem is about the death of a loved one and the grief it leaves behind for the survivor. Her struggles to continue everyday life are well documented in this piece.

Everyone feels like they’re in Siberia struggling to find their footing in a world of chaos when someone close to them dies.

‘She tries to reminisce,
but like a barren continent grown cold,
she can’t perceive one particle of bliss.’

I think everyone can relate to the previous line because your heart grows cold after such a loss. Does anyone really recover from losing a loved one? I think we just try to find a way to receive the world without those enshrined shadows and take each day as it comes.

-Michelle

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