"Everyday in every way I’m getting better and better" - Emile Coue
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Winter's first kiss
You arrive - first dance -
Shower of crystals - magical -
Yet, a kiss of death
On fallen leaves, yellowed frail
Throats of birds are silent - black -
~0~0~
The sky keeps greying
Over your relentless crossing-
Make my words a flint
Hungry for air and roses
Longing for lips petalled by rain
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Frank Hubeny. Join us when the pub door opens at 3pm EST.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Oh I can feel the same longing when darkness deepens... the black throat of the birds especially...
ReplyDeletemay the kiss of frost be gentle
You had me at /making my words a flint/hungry for air and roses/. Winter seems to be scowling; here too. I'm not a winter lover.
ReplyDeleteA chilly title and wonderful dance metaphor with that shower of crystals, Grace! I like the hint of darkness in the line:
ReplyDelete'Throats of birds are silent - black'
the grieving sky and flinty words.
I love this glimpse into the arrival of winter 😊 gorgeous writing, Grace 💖
ReplyDeleteIt is not quite winter here but it is getting close. I love the "make me a flint" and all that it implies.
ReplyDeleteNice line: "Hungry for air and roses"
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed.
ReplyDeleteWinter does entice with its beauty, but wears thin after a while.
There's a sense of loss and something breaking in this. Like ice on a puddle.
ReplyDeleteYes
DeleteHungry to be rid of winter already here, ugg
ReplyDeleteWonderful sensual experience of winter's onset--but the pain and the beauty. I liked especially, "lips petaled by rain."
ReplyDeletePoetic description of winter.
ReplyDeleteAmazing how those beautiful snowflakes can be the kiss of death for some. Great poem Grace!
ReplyDeleteLovely piece - the two stanzas divided by a 'dinkus' like time moving over the winter landscape - so the first magical dance has become a relentless crossing - and the poet's words buried like a flint - hungry for air... Great stuff.
ReplyDeleteYou've really captured that first snowfall and the loss of charm, longing for spring. Beautifully written.
ReplyDelete"...magical, yet a kiss of death..." Really like this Grace. And yes, Winter is both. It's a time of darkness and endings, but it is also a time of rest for nature, building resource and vitality for the eventual Spring. The fallen leaves become nourishment. It's also a time to gather close to the hearth with loved ones and friends. Its a beautiful bittersweet time in the cycle of seasons.
ReplyDeleteYou have some lovely imagery here. A beautiful read.
ReplyDeleteOh, the feelings of sweet romanticism and longing in these tanka are beautiful. Loved this bit: "Hungry for air and roses/Longing for lips petalled by rain". The winter imagery works very well.
ReplyDeleteHere’s to settling in for the long haul, and the embrace of the coming thaw. So... indeed relentless... and beautiful as ever. Amazing Grace!
ReplyDeleteI love the title...Winter's first kiss. It's the first one that is most dangerous...beautiful poem.
ReplyDelete"Make my words a flint
ReplyDeleteHungry for air and roses"
Love the economy of language in this and in the poem as a whole...well done!JIM
It's been hard to concentrate on the season with these horrible fires. Your poem, is wonderful, Grace.
ReplyDeleteSigh. Wintertime, is indeed, a time of death and deep soulful sleeps, for the coming seasons of spring and summer. Personally, I dislike winter and everything associated with it, weatherwise. I know, this heresy for a Canadian to speak or write these words, but it's true. Still, beautiful poems, Grace.
ReplyDeleteHungry for air and roses
ReplyDeleteLonging for lips petalled by rain
A classic way of saying the presence of wetness through natural causes. A nice close, Grace!
Hank
oh my. the imagery is breathtaking, Grace.
ReplyDeleteWinter, a crossing, a bridge, to spring and summer, i love the thought *smiles*
ReplyDelete