#arctic
The arctic wind cuts through the muted valley
Come child, do not dally
Look at the reflection in the river
Don’t look to long or you will shiver
Be careful or you could end up where the echoes tally
Echoes ring, warning through the vastness
A cry swallowed whole by the blackness.
The river hums low and deep,
Where forgotten secrets sleep,
Guarding the valley’s cold madness.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 9:45 AM UTC
A penguin once walked up to me.
I thought he’d lost his sanity,
and could not understand for why
he'd choose to leave the colony,
which packs together, groom and bride,
beloved pairs, and side-by-side
they huddle close and all surround—
without each other, they’d have died,
but this one lingered at the bound
between the nests and feeding ground,
and for a moment, looked at home
one final time. He turned around
and shuffled past the camping zone
where I now stand. He clutched a stone—
the little hope that he held on,
as he approached the arctic dome.
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 3:57 AM UTC
At first light trudging through the Arctic Snow,
Is it for thrill or just a Facebook photo show?
As the Arctic wind buffets our flushed face,
The long-awaited walk soon becomes a shambles of a race.
Hands morph to splintered wood, eyebrows deftly freeze,
And yet the brochure promised we’d do this trek with ease.
Soldier on, embrace the frigid grind,
Pray aloud that inner fortitude to find,
Not a sound outside our laden breath,
Every move made with fractured hapless stealth.
But coupled to the cold a streaming sweat,
A larger wager would I not have surely bet,
That a saunter on the glistening Arctic Tundra
Would at most develop the art of soothing Mantra.
Then a booming voice disturbs this quiet introspection,
As the guide engages in frantic group inspection,
His walkie talkie comes suddenly to life,
Stern commands soon wailing shrill with strife.
Bears ahead with teenage cubs in tow,
Keep down, stay low,
Curb the chatter, pretend you’re but a stone,
Form a line, don’t venture out alone;
Rifle’s cocked, don't turn around,
Polar bears don't run - they bound.
Now move backwards, avoid their steely gaze,
Take full advantage of this soaring Polar haze.
Maybe minutes, but seemingly an age,
As we shuffle blindly stage by stumbling stage;
Our Dunkirk - the waiting rubber boats,
Ecstatic for anything that somehow runs and floats.
Back to the ship, sodden and quite sore,
Not to mention frozen to the epicenter of our core,
We huddle around cups of steaming tea,
Sharing stories of all we had to fear and see.
You may well ask, was this the fateful end,
Did we to natures will forlornly yield and bend?
It's true the thought did rather cross our minds,
Fearful of more unscripted scrapes and woeful binds,
However, a good sleep and liquid strength galore,
Did somewhat mollify that sorry shameful score.
For as dawn broke early the next day,
To a person did we in seeming chorus say:
Off we trudge as more adventure waits,
To experience all that Nature's majesty creates,
Our only thought one of craving more,
And so we went, still frozen to our core.
Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC
~
*Come and stay with me
in Hammerfest
A compact town
a compact love
The harbor and your heart
within walking distance of each other
White night
civil twilight
A disc rather than a point
Where the multiple exposure
of your first day smile
never subsides*
~
Jul 13, 2022
Jul 13, 2022 at 12:55 PM UTC
i heard you treasure your anklet,
to lose it you won't let,
in that case, I wanna be that bracelet,
that you'll never forget
you say you love this band,
though I do not really understand.
but if you demand,
I'll let myself be ******
and you tell you like your coffee
with a little side of berry,
if so let me be your cherry
if only you just let me.
true enough I liked you first,
these feelings perhaps are cursed.
however even in your worst,
i'd still wanna be yours.
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
oh what good would it do
if you knew I waited for you.
back at where we met
when things were all set
its true whenever I cry
i hear you crumble and sigh
and the looks I gave,
were just stares engraved
but darling, I do not expect.
i fear you'll go and reject
that I waited for that seven-hour flight
though I was frightened by the bite
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC
(with an apology to Pink Panther)
Ice melts,
Hurricanes rage,
Permafrost thaws,
Methane burps,
Temperature shoots,
Sea level rises,
Agriculture fails,
Drinking water shortages,
Tsunamis show their might,
Landslide kills,
Pandemic thrives,
Fishes stop breeding,
Insects go out of sight,
and, human beings exit, stage left!
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 3:15 PM UTC
For you
to see me, ride on a
polar bison to cross,
the Arctic circle and
bring to me, a snow
peacock feather
Safana & Bamalli 2020
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 7:26 PM UTC
in the arctic air
the sins of the tundra are
absolved
in passing
Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 9:22 AM UTC
if you were a constellation
I would lay with my back pressed against the ice-cold grass to witness your miracle
she sees a shooting star, she wishes for love
I stand by the ghost-white evergreens
suddenly I don’t feel so big
the snow-coated mountain reigned over the land
but I, I can keep my own
I’ll follow you forever, don’t you worry
I’ll even follow you until the blisters on my tongue stop me from praying
through the monochromatic bliss of winter
the snow now silences the warm pulse of my heart beat
an arctic December, i’d expect nothing less
the ethereal skies scream of the unknown and the clouds yearn for me
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
Her cheeks a'blooming
Fresh petals
Assuming a charm
All their own....
Flesh roses
In a flute of bone.
Her arms are strong wings
Ethereal beauty, poised
For her journey, as a
Tern is
On its long feathered flight
From the North
She wings her way
To the South
Only to meet
The arctic waste
Once more...
Yet the flesh roses never fade
For they are
frozen with tears.
Catherine Jarvis
8/19/2019
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 1:34 AM UTC
Indigenous knowledge and unwritten tradition
Ritual dances and pagan gods
She speaks to the deads
Heals the deepest wound
Whispers to the reindeers
But one day people with skins, the colour of snow, came
Untouched by her wisdom
Nothing she could do to stop them
The land was soiled
Purity went away
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
An arctic fire
Scorches the Earth
Into an entire
Frozen turf
Of no worth
Only hurt
Where death and decay
Are here to stay
In winter’s way
To my grave
The leaves are dead
Like the teens *****
Who went to bed
And woke up led
To their reluctant stead
The branches are bare
Like the love I share
With those who dare
Return my stare
Of frozen care
My friends are chill
Once they take a pill
And let the ice build
Until a giant ice hill
Freezes their light will
Seeing life as time to ****
Their shifty shoes I fill
This winter has shown
That I don’t have a home
And if I want to be known
I have to build a new phone
Or get bombed by a drone
So I stay in my zone
Of an arctic cone
I was once warm
In proper form
Until I grew horns
Like icy thorns
And my icicles
Are quite fickle
Their knife sickles
Until blood trickles
On my frigid path
Of winter’s wrath
I’m freezing to death
Until there’s nothing left
Except a societal debt
Of a temperature set
That was never met
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
In the wake of our love
We were both so broken
And so
Young
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
The arctic cold has brushed my cheek once again
The skies are stained white
and the ringing in my ears
is louder than ever
I wonder what the clouds are doing, I never see them anymore
The night doesnt come but the sun doesn't shine
I have a silver notebook
I write, spearmint
Because my eyes are watering but I feel nothing
The world is dry while the air is full
And the heavens take their morning pills
Wash their face
Head off sleepily to begrudgingly watch the icy seas
The wind bites my cheeks
But moves in such silence I wonder if the feeling is not just my routine punishment
At least I'm used to my spirits
At least I have a jacket on
At least the heavens didnt take a sick day all together.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:45 AM UTC
Your arctic blue eyes
Light my heart on fire
Your cold flames of ice
Burn me
Yet I only feel a slight chill
As my heart erupts into electric blue flames
Your frost-bound lips brush against mine
And my frostbitten heart
Melts
But freezes again as they leave
And forms a shell as hard as stone
And as cold as ice
Yet you leave me
Cold and unprotected
The turquoise embers still smoldering
Maybe I should fight ice with ice
But your hypnotizing gaze
Pierces into my soul and ignites it once more
The world bows to my will and power
But do you?
I am invincible from everything
But from your soul of ice
Your cold flames
And your arctic blue eyes
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:43 AM UTC
A blanket of
fractures,
ample rigid structures
A liquid
s
e
e
p
s
the t cold
r
frigid o fragments
u
g
of h the
north
Where tufts gather in the sherbet of -frozen- dust
The glistening indigo amongst
the platinum
blanket
I shiver.
The cutting
wind
admires the empty
shell
for I stood
there
Gazing at the
noise
Cut black.
In transparent fallacy
The temple of glass amongst the cold
golden
sun
speaking to -me-
referring
pointing g
looking at n -me-
i
ris
up
in an
warcry
i t n e v e r s l e e p s
but
I
awaken.
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
Hand in hand, walking fields of snow. Pail and pure, as if flake fallen from the full moon above. The way her hand fits in mine, sends my heart glissading into the idea of forever. As she turns to look at me, fresh snow clinging to her hair, the term "snow angel" takes on a whole new meaning. For the first time in a long time, my heart begins to feel... whole.
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
You think you can't be saved
And that no one would adore you,
That if you are wretched, you cannot be divine.
But divinity is for the gods,
Oracles could not have forseen
What you would do to me.
That every word you speak
Would be a brazen network of fire in my ears,
And every breath of yours would be an arctic storm on my skin.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 9:21 AM UTC
I own horses, hence I take photos and write short poems that go with them. The latest poem I wrote was about the first day of bitter cold air and first snow flakes falling, sticking to my horse's mane:
Oh, no! The Arctic Blast is here
With gusts of wind and chilly air
And tiny flakes of sparkly white
Much to the horse's great delight
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 10:50 AM UTC