This is Winter,
Real and hard with savage bite,
Pavements sparkling with treachery,
Black ice deceiving our steps as
The silvery frost kills by our side,
Murdering verge and hedgerow
With silent, ethereal beauty.
This is Winter,
Burdened with the rawest pain,
Administered with seasonal eloquence,
Draining these days of prospect and
Constraining us to the moment,
Choking breath and laughter
With tired, consuming sorrow.
This is Winter,
Cruellest gaoler of temerity,
Restraining vigour with iron earth,
Goading us to abandon hopes as
The world's slow rot is frozen,
Fearing Spring's impending assault
And fresh, rekindled hope.
17th December, 2017
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Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
