"I'VE GOT CHILBLAINS ON MY FINGERS!

the snow climbs the stairs
pushes open  the bedroom door
lies upon the bed falls..falls...asleep

this the house I first saw snow fall
as a little boy face pressed to pane
marvelling that a sky could fall at all

and be so white and quiet and still
my fingers numb with my first snowman
running back in crying

"I've got chilblains on my fingers!"
nose and toes not doing too good either

now it is I left outside
watching snow falling inside
the house of  my childhood.

the snow and I have switched places
it climbs the stairs step by step
I fall and fall backwards in time

the snow calling after me
with my childish voice
"I've got chilblains on my fingers!"

*

We used to pronounce it "chimblanes" so I always thought it was spelt like that.
It was so very strange for myself and the snow to change places after our first encounter way back in 1963...time's little joke.

"I'VE GOT CHILBLAINS ON MY FINGERS!

The snow climbs the stairs

pushes open  the bedroom door

lies upon the bed falls..falls...asleep.

This the house I first saw snow fall

as a little boy face pressed to pane

marvelling that a sky could fall at all

and be so white and quiet and still.

My fingers numb with my first snowman

running back in crying "I've got chilblains on my fingers!"

Nose and toes not doing too good either.

Now it is I left outside

watching snow falling inside

the house of  my childhood.

The snow and I have switched places.

It climbs the stairs step by step.

I fall and fall backwards in time.

The snow calling after me with my childish voice

"I've got chilblains on my fingers!"

I

Said the Table to the Chair,
'You can hardly be aware,
'How I suffer from the heat,
'And from chilblains on my feet!
'If we took a little walk,
'We might have a little talk!
'Pray let us take the air!'
Said the Table to the Chair.

II

Said the Chair to the table,
'Now you know we are not able!
'How foolishly you talk,
'When you know we cannot walk!'
Said the Table with a sigh,
'It can do no harm to try,
'I've as many legs as you,
'Why can't we walk on two?'

III

So they both went slowly down,
And walked about the town
With a cheerful bumpy sound,
As they toddled round and round.
And everybody cried,
As they hastened to the side,
'See! the Table and the Chair
'Have come out to take the air!'

To exhale
Compresses the chest
And in its place
Some chilblains,
Disgust for its being,
An annihilation
A ferocious hunger for itself,
Like the ouroboros
In every breath
Tempted by a life
For the moment gone.
To inhale
Invites it back,
A dispassionate process, no less.
The life thus stolen away
Impotent to the next breath
That I must exhale.
On this breath there comes a fear
A longing or
The urge
To lift my hands to my throat
And keep the life in my lungs
To quit exhaling
And never feel that way again.

Boots were all we had in winter,
Wellingtons made of a slice of rubber;
Turned down to show initials,
That bled upon the snow.
Between skin and cold,
Coarse wollen socks,
Sometimes they matched,
They'd criss and cross.

In from the boys' yard,
The slide and frost,
The boots were heaped
In backroom closets.
The sting of chilblains
On sock-soaked feet,
The line of footprints
Led to our seats.
We had one pair at school,
No other cover
Sliding across the oaken floors.
Drying on the radiators,
Our pungent odor,
A synaptic recall,
The unschooled smell
Of winter schoolyards.

Three units
Three places
Three empty spaces.
Me,myself and the other one who likes to carry on
But he's getting old and will have to be told
To cease these shenanigans.

So I speak to the other one when the other two
have got up and gone
And he agrees
Seemed quite pleased
Said,'the cold made his bones ache and the old
shouldn't really take
Such liberties
Make people feel ill at ease
and that his knees were going
So it was time to be slowing
down'

I told the other two,
his brothers in arms who'd decided to
leave me to explain.
Sometimes it's a pain having a brain like mine
Sorting out problems and sometimes three at a time
but it's cool.

They too were pleased
and peace came to reign.
It's not the same though
Not sure if I know
just how things became different but now
we watch daffodils grow
watch the river and its flow
count raindrops.

when life stops this is what remains.
Chilblains and gout,medicines and milk stout
And it's all inside out.

There is no Peter Pan
To transform this elderly man and turn him into a boy
That is the realism
That is the joy
Of getting old.

Winds these days
Cut both ways,
As spring is fast arriving.
These gasping blasts
Can't repel what's thriving,
The give and take of time.

This snowy, sleety, wet, cold season
Brought flues, agues, chilblains and sneezing,
And holidays with families,
Births, deaths,
And another year,
The passing of those times,
Pics, grams and friends with wine,
The games, tricks, sighs and smiles
Of another season of our lives,
And the memories
We didn't pose for.

******. Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson!!!

Yer've spilt yer seed
yer've spent it
as did Onan
on a barren land
and no flower grew
where you shot through
off a ninety nine change hand!!

obi.
(There ought be a winky emoji thingy following
but alas,,,,, I'm lacking the wherewithal whatnot.)
-------------------------------------------
Elon's musk...

I'm a conceptual millionaire,
my unpaid gas bill means **** all to me,
tomorrow, I'm a gonna buy me
a mind coat lined with thick meta fur
ignoring them chilblains that
just -- isn't there!


Obi

They must be 'growing pains''
said the Doctor to me
I limped out of the surgery
unhappily.

What does he know
about what I can grow
and how
tall I'll be?

he treats pimples
and sprains
colds and chilblains
what does he know
about
growing up pains?

Sunday was
My favorite time.
First - Mass
The dog outside
Waiting
And then the pub -
Uncle with his pint
And I with my bitter lemon
The dog now under the bar stool
Too old to beg for much.

After
Sunday dinner
At Nana's.
Socks on my hands
If the day was cold
No chilblains for me.

Chicken and mash
Pie and custard
In the parlor
Then my brothers came
With my mother and sister
Sour sometimes

         - Why’s SHE special
- Want some?
         - COW!!
- You can have it
         - You’re adopted
- If… you eat my snot
          - ******
- I’m telling
A wail – someone was boxed
Maybe me
          - Stop teasing
And then
Our Sunday drive
Seven of us squeezed
Into the Fiat
Secret pinches
In the back seat
Couldn't cry
The Fiat chugging along
In jumps and starts
Until she settled down
On her chassis.
Then Mam and Uncle
Sat and talked
In the lounge
While we fished for minnows
Which we kept in old jam jars.

How I longed to get away
From the slowness of it all
And now
I'd give anything
To go back.