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#midwinter
I am with my mystical thoughts, and it is midwinter. I long to fit your gentle hands in mine, to perceive their warmth, sunlight trapped in your palms. My heart could meet yours, beating so fast as I hold you close. I cradle your face like a delicate flower in my hands, and my heart blooms in the garden— a cherry-red kiss on my cheek. Snowflakes on our heads twinkling stars in the sky. I lose myself in the universe; only our love is alive. Maybe in another life we will be meant to be together. I will be chosen, and love will be in my favor.
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Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 9:47 AM UTC
Mystical Winter
within the grit of the gentle white buried within the ***** of the roots lay life between its silent slumber while the outward burns to frost-ly breath all the buds lay in cozy sleep some think that Tis time to outshine while the rabbits lay burdened to sleep and bud and bloom midwinter too soon their jealousy their end their doom. as time makes brittle corpses of the children of sin when the sun melts through the dense white reality The well-rested princes and princess do rise
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Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 11:20 AM UTC
blossoms in midwinter
In a midwinter night’s dream   i found myself lost again,      or was it even this year ?   It may even go back farther   than yesterdays out of reach,     older than an ancient pyramid stone   Before the rebirth of past life deposits,   unborn orphaned motherless sediment,   flotsam of the ages adrift,   unknown for more than a thousand years ... waiting for so long to see beyond the bounds High atop a slippery edge-cliff   i clung  ―             Searching for a deeper understanding   of who i am; Roosting like a starving bird of prey   with a broken wing   born alone ... holding on   With a fear in his eyes that only i could comprehend      Staring way down deep in the pith,        into an internal pitch black abyss,   just begging to see beyond ―   Mindful it's so hard looking   into the eye of a storm Intimately parsing the recurrent source   of reigning pain Where the perpetual fog of isolation dwells; an inversion,     preventing dispersion   of the nimbus  cold  and  dark In the darkness, there bides a suffocating   emptiness,     A swelling silence what loudly knells,   leeching through a perennial ache An abating voice within hollers unheard,   invisible as a bitter cold wind howling   relentlessly through the hollow pang;   Echoing the subsiding say (squeezed out) ... of an orphaned soul   deep beneath the light Awakening to realize  ―  once i was alive   and i could feel me holding on to you //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
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Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
A deeper understanding ...
In a midwinter night’s dream   i found myself lost again,      or was it even this year ?   It may even go back farther   than yesterdays out of reach,     older than an ancient pyramid stone   Before the rebirth of past life deposits,   unborn orphaned motherless sediment,   flotsam of the ages adrift,   unknown for more than a thousand years ... waiting for so long to see beyond the bounds High atop a slippery edge-cliff   i clung  ―             Searching for a deeper understanding   of who i am; Roosting like a starving bird of prey   with a broken wing   born alone ... holding on   With a fear in his eyes that only i could comprehend      Staring way down deep in the pith,        into an internal pitch black abyss,   just begging to see beyond ―   Mindful it's so hard looking   into the eye of a storm Intimately parsing the recurrent source   of reigning pain Where the perpetual fog of isolation dwells; an inversion,     preventing dispersion   of the nimbus  cold  and  dark In the darkness, there bides a suffocating   emptiness,     A swelling silence what loudly knells,   leeching through a perennial ache An abating voice within hollers unheard,   invisible as a bitter cold wind howling   relentlessly through the hollow pang;   Echoing the subsiding say (squeezed out) ... of an orphaned soul   deep beneath the light Awakening to realize  ―  once i was alive   and i could feel me holding on to you //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
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Gray Owl hearkens the dappled daybreak knell echoing through the wildwood forest stand; rock doves and frosty stones abide, where a marooned heart doth dwell, disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch Timber stand grips tight red clay and bedrock of ages, postured tall and strong as eagle's spirit throne Pine cones hide in the low drifting clouds, ripe acorns tumble down alone unto  a  windblown shallow earthen grave, hillocked  beneath the sky-high canopy Bones of branches, furrowed bark from burled oak, wood-grains of pith, natural gnarled achings peeled by the shivering wind's breath Paling autumn memories grow dim as the receding sunlight, recollections of ebbing Jasmine's mellowing fragrant balm waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy, the edge of winter metamorphosis bears down with a prodigious weight of a different kind of retreating light; brindled Queen Anne's lace hold sway across the tawny frostbitten meadow imbuing the poignantly whetting breeze The blink of an eye winks, to catch sight of an intimate glimpse, an unspoken solitude holds forth, the mesmerizing coo of rock doves, reverently mirroring the sanctity of the forest wildwood lingering amongst the frosty ferns and stones The harmony of tranquil silence wanders; only the bowing resistance of the boughs manifest the shapeless wind’s whispered  breathe swirling above the labyrinth threshold; therein lies an unfractured fault line rooted deeply beneath the earth’s crust like the sonorous heart of a sanctuary hearthstone Hence there is symmetry felt in silence that only whispers in the deep toned consonant of our own harbored sighs a holy human blood link born of  heritage wilderness heartwood beats keenly alive written by:   harlon rivers ... December 2017
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Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
In the Winter Wildwood
Gray Owl hearkens the dappled daybreak knell echoing through the wildwood forest stand; rock doves and frosty stones abide, where a marooned heart doth dwell, disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch Timber stand grips tight red clay and bedrock of ages, postured tall and strong as eagle's spirit throne Pine cones hide in the low drifting clouds, ripe acorns tumble down alone unto  a  windblown shallow earthen grave, hillocked  beneath the sky-high canopy Bones of branches, furrowed bark from burled oak, wood-grains of pith, natural gnarled achings peeled by the shivering wind's breath Paling autumn memories grow dim as the receding sunlight, recollections of ebbing Jasmine's mellowing fragrant balm waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy, the edge of winter metamorphosis bears down with a prodigious weight of a different kind of retreating light; brindled Queen Anne's lace hold sway across the tawny frostbitten meadow imbuing the poignantly whetting breeze The blink of an eye winks, to catch sight of an intimate glimpse, an unspoken solitude holds forth, the mesmerizing coo of rock doves, reverently mirroring the sanctity of the forest wildwood lingering amongst the frosty ferns and stones The harmony of tranquil silence wanders; only the bowing resistance of the boughs manifest the shapeless wind’s whispered  breathe swirling above the labyrinth threshold; therein lies an unfractured fault line rooted deeply beneath the earth’s crust like the sonorous heart of a sanctuary hearthstone Hence there is symmetry felt in silence that only whispers in the deep toned consonant of our own harbored sighs a holy human blood link born of  heritage wilderness heartwood beats keenly alive written by:   harlon rivers ... December 2017
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65
. Come! Come! One and all, come to my woodland hall, attend ye all mid-winters ball, in friendship harken to my call. Paths awash with candle light, in the branches burning bright, such an enchanting magical sight, to guide you gentle through the night. Friends with whom to drink and eat, cuddled warm in a sylvan heat, while dancers fling to keep the beat, songs are sung, lovers meet. And by a fire in a little glade, words are spoken, promises made, the Bonding tree with hearts displayed, brings memories that will never fade. . *And when the party is at an end I'll lovingly embrace my dearest friend, and quieter than what lies beneath, whisper sweet poetry to my Lady Leaf.* © Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
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Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
Winters Ball