For those who have love/hate relationship with winter!
S weet winter holds my favorite annual day
when cheerful santa flys his big red sleigh
love frolicking in the bright fresh-fallen snow
to feel it crunching beneath my booted feet
see the glistening whiteness of the world’s glow
and feel the crisp chill’s bite upon my cheek
so wonderful — walking in this winter wonderland
putting up, and then taking down the tree
the freezing climb to light the house — misery
it’s really hard, trudging in new-fallen snow
my poor feet are soaked and soar, totally numb
snow-blindness on the roof certainly is no joke
and this damned Bell’s Palsey really is no fun
this wasteland’s a frozen kinda hell – so just go
it feels this miserable season goes on and on
fell off that frozen ladder again in early dawn
I wandered lonely as a cloud from concussion
winter… wicked winter— just be gone!
Though from different worlds we’re solid bound
a common cord binds us strong, fastened deep
to the shared part we keep safe and sacred
that survives no matter what else may fail
the part that is our most essential selves
this is where we are intimately joined
we’re poets at the bedrock of our souls
it is here our love of life is harbored
it’s in this holy place that we shelter
always alert to the clarion’s call
we are all damaged in our special ways
we like the path unclear the route unmarked
we are fond of stumbling in fumbling through
to find the way that is uniquely ours
engaged by the obtuse — the uneven
we vibrate to the asymmetric chord
find grace and form in brilliant imbalance
we’re seduced by the clue — drawn to the fog
we seek the wonder there that is withheld
because here we hear the clarion call
we long to always wander ‘round the bend
to seek what me may find over the hill
we always wonder what’s behind the door
what is it there that must be locked away
we can be found ears pressed against that door
our ears also prick to the distant sound
that calls to us just beyond clarity
to all these things our souls are strongly pulled
as down the trail in the mist ‘round the curve
there the clarion awaits — shut away
~ inspired by the poetic imagination of Lewis Carroll ~
The aged aged man
follows the echos
of the three voices
a strange wild song
that leads him to
the four riddles
of darkness
suspended
in the blackness
above
the sea of dirge
in the deepening canyon
of solitude and secrets
~ inspired by the poetic imagination of Lewis Carroll ~
Spy’d through my mind’s looking glass
a fantasy realm where I must go
shall not another moment pass
it’s long been my dream — now alas
all plans are made to make it so
like in a boat beneath a sunny sky
excitement warms my voyager’s heart
soon through the clouds I’ll soar on high
with wings of wonder I will fly
the waiting’s over — I now depart
fantastic is this spell I’m under
magic of a splendorous kind
a world of cornucopic wonder
treasure troves of dreams to plunder
in this voyage of my mind
in my fancy’s elaboration
through stars of wonder I ascend
soar in sweet hallucination
in ships of my imagination
oh, would this voyage but never end
This is about fools and heroes, and the frail human plight. It’s about failed ecology, and worldwide plague. It’s about love, hate, death, and brash 2nd lines. About MUSIC, murder, mayhem, and ego’s absurdity. Oh yeah – and it’s about Mardi Gras, n’ever-thing in b’tween!
First of March in the Pacific Northwest, finds wild nature in a period of recovery and renewal. Nature’s flowering plants, grasses, and brush, are blessed by the nurturing rains that have fallen, and will continue in this new year. Mighty evergreens are paused, and deciduous trees are at the end of their dormancy. Our vast forests, rejuvenated by this waning period of rest, sense Spring at the horizon, when the skies will open further, and the temperature begins its rise.
Streams begin to come to new life as the snowpacks, high in the frozen cold of the Cascade Mountains, begin their thaw. Rains help to invigorate this life giving flow. This high mountain water is a key source to bring forth the Pacific Northwest’s bounty, from the rich Willamette Valley in Oregon, to the Skagit Valley in northern Washington. Also, Rainbow, Brook, German Brown, and Cutthroat Trout grow active as waters rise and cool as snowmelt blends. Bear, deer, cougar, elk, coyote, big horn sheep, pronghorn antelope, hawk, osprey, eagle; all the varied, plentiful wildlife of our region have begun to wrap their winter rituals. Life in the PacNW wilderness, is stirring.
The opening of our winter’s March nears the end of a peaceful time of rest, before the vigorous pace of restoration begins here in this breathtakingly beautiful region. Spring debuts in March, as does the beginning of Daylight Savings Time. A regenerative calm lies upon the lush land, as nature holds its breath. The season of sky-water, still upon us, has done its masterful best to quench nature’s early thirst, and revivify her energies in this utopia. The fruit, berry, and flower buds soon will burst, and paradise will again take center stage, to begin the glory days of Pacific Northwest Spring. Rains end, the sun comes!
soon fat buds will pop
orchards vines and fields flex deep
Spring rains fall — streams flow
As soft I knelt, bright shone the sun
though winter held, warmth had begun
my frozen heart began to melt
this breaking dawn saw my tears run
a renewed love, is what I felt
bright shone the sun, as soft I knelt
a quiet song, my heart did sing
fresh trust unleashed a new wellspring
this truly was a brand new dawn
love felt again a precious thing
was then I knew love would go on
my heart did sing, a quiet song
NOTE: Yesterday, 2/21/22 De, from dVerse Poets asked that we include the word salt, or a derivative, in a poem.
NOTE: Today, 2/22/22 Lillian, from dVerse Poets asked that we include the adage here to which this poem responds: “The truth shall set you free.” John 8:32
