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dplynch Mar 2022
Mother pricked her index on a holly bush.

A trickle of blood succumbed to the crater, crossing the lines of her palm.

She sanctioned a frown.

On her hand now lay a staining scarlet winter berry.
I’ve been told by a friend to wait here.
As long as I stay here, you’ll be back past five o'clock.
I’ve waited—you came and opened the door.
It’s true; now I will dedicate my nine lives to you.
"She drinks her tea by midnight and lulls herself to sleep. You should waggle your tail and lie beside her. Every day except for Saturday." My friend laughed rigorously when she finished that statement.
"Why can’t I play with her every Saturday? I asked her, trying to grasp her evading eyes.
"Just because," she shrugged and tried to climb the tree.
"Wait!" I hissed, but she’s nowhere to be found now.
I did everything she told me to do. Eat my food past lunch, play with my worn-out toy, and wait for her to be home.
At the exact moment the cruel sun rose and the light hit my body, I waggled my tail and lied beside her. Unfortunately, I forgot it was Saturday today.
I called her name, distinctively meowing in a weird manner. I cackled slightly; she wouldn’t understand. Biting slowly with her calloused hands and licking the side of her face, she still won’t wake up.
And I meowed until there was no sound left of me. My dear Celia, wake up, for you have to give me food now.
You still need to bathe me and play with me at the park. We’ll still wait for the night to come and watch TV.
Oh, Celia, I’d still spend my nine lives with you. Where have you been since I slept last night?
I’d still wait for you here at the table, near the window. Where the trees dance the delicacy of their sickening leaves. Oh, how we both hated the crispness of those brown leaves.
Oh, how you knew how much I hate autumn and how much I undoubtedly love the breeze of winter. The screeching of the winds and the snow falling onto the ground, where we both scrutinize its unique aspect. We were the same.
How you were covered in snowdrops, and you’d throw me inside the snowpack. I’ll hiss, and you’ll laugh.
"I told you not to play with her every Saturday," my friend whispered, almost with a faint cry. There was a hint of longing in her voice.
"You haven’t told me the answer, Ong."
"She grieves in her dreams, my friend. He visits every Saturday, spends a day with her, and goes home at exactly midnight. She’ll wake up tomorrow, bud," she answered in agony.
Who's he? " I turned to her, but she vanished once again.
Celia, I will love you for the rest of my nine lives. I’ll wait for you tomorrow. It’s okay to grieve for now.
I’d still wait for you here at the table, even though it’s autumn. We both got to accept that winter is already over.
It’s my first life with you in autumn.
I haven't written for a month, and this is what came to me today: I have been struggling to find myself lately, but I found myself falling in love with cats. And how badly I want to take care of them. Unfortunately, my mom doesn’t want to own a cat. It’s fine. I’m still in my 20s. I’m young; soon enough, I’ll be able to take care of a cat.
And I’ll love them for the rest of their nine lives.
In another universe, I have a cat named Yang.
Also, I’d like to thank this song for giving me an idea.
Song on the Beach: Arcade Fire and Owen Pallett

Thank you for reading! :)
Winter's lonely Queen enthroned
endures the long dog days
minded only by her North wind steward
a morose and moaning fellow
of harsh voice and even fiercer countenance
he sings no gentle airs to soothe
no lullabies or music made to please
but rages full blast around her chamber
battering each wall and rattling the locks
until he has exhausted all his fury
only while he slumbers
can she dress in white
don her many jewels of ice
and dance with the sun
who comes to cheer her up, but cannot stay
she knows his love is dangerous
but she cannot keep away
Good evening, your highness.
How is your sleep now in winter?
When leafless walnut trees show their smooth gray bark,
Effectively when all the trees seem mellow and ill
As if something is missing there,
Where the branches grow from their stem nodes.

Something is breaking there.

Your Highness, I am too young,
Something new still trembles inside me,
Something does not know how to let itself go
Along the road
And opposes its own nature,
I am like a newborn not accustomed yet to resignation,
I would like to succeed even if the odds are against me,
I would like to control the back-and-forth movement of the sun
As if it were a golden pendulum,

Then I awake and I am sorry
That I complained
It is winter time and everything seems to grow
And I am happy.

The light breaks into sparkles,
Life is an old habit, your highness,
Rebel sparks fleeing their mother’s eyes,
Like incandescent dust,
A Eucharist from centuries ago.
Ivy Chakma Jul 5
I will love you when winters are old and summers are tired;
I will love you between all hours;
For my mind only wonders with you and what can I say about the heart, it’s fallen too.
ok okay Jun 21
Some days appear troubled
It may feel as if it always rains

I know you love the sunny days
It makes you feel warm inside
On the worst of days
I will always be by your side

Troubled days come and go
Same with weeks and months
It will get better
And peace will come
For that
I surely know

Winter too
Will not be forever
The cold will wane away

Some day
Maybe not too far away
The sun will shine again
A red bicycle just sits on a wall
waiting, waiting patiently, to be rode

To be out on the road once more;
more or less a reason not to be left out in the cold

Red in a fiery paint; red fury blaze in a colour as bold
waiting, waiting patiently; not on display, being
watched and ignored

It had hopes of being picked out of that store;
to be out in the world with so much in store,
—to be so much more

Waiting, waiting patiently; once as excited as the little girl
that opened him out of that Christmas box;
To be found in awe of a child and their parent's applauds

But alas, as it's winter's pricking thorn,
this red little bike has to wait all winter, pierced by the thought
of knowing he has been left out in the cold
Robert Ronnow Jun 13
Part of me says stay small, part go big
Part says eat your fill, part don’t pig

Kenko says: long life brings many shames
I say the gray sky brings winter, no blame

The impassable mountains we revere
Moderate the force of wind and water

Get the cement truck into the refrigerator
We shall honor all of life sooner or later

Anything can happen if you don’t resist
To get lucky you gotta be careful first

You discover dying’s much like living
Who should I thank for the pity of things?

O to have the smile of a lover
Who wouldn’t rather be elsewhere!

If you stop expecting miracles from people,
you can never get hurt by them;
instead, if you initiate the expectation
of blessings only from God,
your heart will bloom again.

Muhammed E. K.  ☾  🅴  ✩
Thank you for reading. Hope you had a nice reading session. You can check out the whole "Seasons" poetry collection for a better experience. ❅⛈☼☄

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