a burning passion
it set my heart on fire
a freezing distance
it froze the tears in my eyes
a yearn for friction
my skin cried for love
As the leaves crunch beneath my feet,
and the trees weep their now yellow leaves.
I'm filled with glee as I feel the cold breeze,
don't let Fall end, please.
Because the weather is nice,
and our house will be warm.
The chimney will smoke,
as the fire is born.
We'll be surrounded by friends,
and our family will swarm.
But you'll hear the pleas,
for the weather to be warm.
It'll come from the families whose clothes at torn.
So if it'll stop them from freezing,
stop the children from wheezing,
I guess you can stop
the cold Fall's breezing...
I wrote this last Fall, but my friend said it was stupid, so I never shared it. I don't care what that friend thinks anymore.
gelid wind blusters
drove a freezing current's trail
through the snow clad dales
No one questioned.
Scars lined up
I proudly wear
In day hour.
A numb torso
With freezing hope.
There is beauty.
In still parts.
It gets dark
I close my eyes
Finish the night
I am afraid without you
it's cold here
Maybe you don't know
I'm without a kiss
Blue lips, cracked and bleeding.
Shuddered breaths, barely breathing.
Stopping heart, slowly beating.
Deadly winter, snow abreezing.
Singing sweetly in the snow.
Drifting down, humming soft and low.
Staying silent so they don't hear,
All your worry, all your fear.
Hugging quietly in the cold.
Breeze blowing soft, doing what it's told.
Making no sound so they don't hear,
Your thumping heartbeat, beating fear.
White surroundings, nothing clear.
Frozen fingers, frozen ears.
Frozen heartache, frozen tears.
Staying silent, so they don't hear.
Your last breath, still full of fear...
Trial by fire in freezing
Fear is denial in grieving
A picturesque portrait but the painter is sleepy
Now he’s painting his nightmares instead of his daydreams
It feels like a cat
clawing its way up my leg
digging into my back
cutting into my spine
producing a shake in my entire frame
traveling up into my teeth
chattering as I wait
for the next bus.
An homage to the early morning bus routine that all students (college and not) go through.
You remind me of fresh dew on the grass,
In the morning when it’s cold,
And still dark but the sun is ebbing,
Just below the horizon.
In the sort of calm way that a heart,
I wake up to you like snowy mornings,
Mild frost and a chill in the air,
Just enough to make me feel,
A little more alive than usual.
Something crisp, and delicate,
Begs beyond the surface.
Is it the siren’s call?
I have no concrete idea of what this poem is about, but I know exactly what I meant. Somehow.