Poem: Here I stand cold and tired, Wistfully waiting for warmth, Melancholy overtaking my thinking, Anticipating being warm again. Staring through icy windows, In need of a warm summer holiday, Winter blues biting deep, Freezing this heart. Wistfully waiting an end, An end to cold, Cold damp drudgery, Just wistful thinking. View from window, As… Continue reading REBLOG: ‘Wistfully’ by Roger Leach
Poem: Pale sun glow, winter solstice light fades. The shortest day—darkness descends, wraps me in a blanket womb of warmth next to you. Frosty morning squinty-sunshine breaks over the treeline. Hot coffee, dark brewed, reminds me of the scent of rich fertile fields. Together, we drink to face another day. The calm before the storm.… Continue reading REBLOG: ‘Weathering the Storm of Life’ by Colleen Chesebro
Poetry Partners #170 'Snow', a poem by Kiri Salazar of 'TheDustSeason' Snow, as heavy as death, How you break the frail back. Shoveling is a gladiator sport, and Winter is the lion which slays you. Roar the oncoming horde of flakes. Sodden mittens clench the staff, A blade against an unrelenting foe. Blisters in anticipation.… Continue reading Trivialities, really, or: Futile rage
Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly. -Ambrose Bierce (1842 – 1914) This last week has been the rainiest week this winter in Jerusalem, as I more or less expected. The pattern of recent years seems to be that winter spends all of December and January battling autumn for dominance… Continue reading Mothers feeling chilly
An 'Arkquain Swirl' whitetrimmingsbright againstsnowy landscape;sumptuously cladgraceful Lady of the Snows;understated coy smile knowsshe's untouchable;floral fur-trimmedcape and muffoffsetherscarletberibbonedbrimmed fancy hat;watery wintrywastes draw away to allowher between bent laden boughsas she floats through them;blood circulatesclose to thesurfaceofrefinedfine cheekbonesflushed like red dress;heavy horizonswelcome home native daughter;untouched by weight of watersshe absorbs the scene;knowing pools darkunblinkingtake itin Twiglets… Continue reading Lady, or: The snows
A waltmarie Comprised of 5 consecutive American sentences A chilly breeze blows across the apartment through large, open windows. We find ourselves observing the shifting seasons, passengers through time. Our senses tingle at winter's birth, our bare hands; noses; tongues... our eyes. The frailty of bare trees and wind's colors are almost hard to look… Continue reading Windows, or: Fourth dimension
Poetry Partners #161 Senryu by Jan Beekman of ‘janbeek’ I. Each snowflake's unique Like my fingerprints and eyes Brrr - snow on my lids II. I stuck my tongue out Ouch! Help me, I'm way too close Stuck to that damn pole Jan Beekman: https://janbeek.blog/ Tankas by ben Alexander of ‘The Skeptic’s Kaddish’ I. each… Continue reading Fingerprints, or: Tongue
Senryū when the cords of cold outdoors ensnare the outcasts winter feasts on flesh d'Verse poetics: The blizzard of the self At d'Verse, Sanaa encourages us to become the embodiment of winter. What do you feel during this season? Describe a typical January day. Feel free to go dark and philosophical... Senryū? Senryū is a… Continue reading Cords of cold, or: Winter feasts
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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