the wind at last has shifted 'round
from the north it comes rushing in
cutting deeply into my face and hands
sending shivers along the surface of my skin

the temperature here is dropping fast
snow and ice are beginning to fall
you can feel it well up inside your bones
cold enough to make me want to cry out:

I'm icebound
crystal forms beginning to mass
I tell you I'm icebound
waiting for the storms to pass
i need the warmth of seeing you again
to finally start
the beating of my heart

pavements encrusted in sheets of glass
the winter holds me like a vice
i have to watch my every step
my feet so cold they cannot feel the ice

seems as if my senses have all been dulled
snowflakes drift as they fill the sky
they don't even melt when they touch my skin
feeling so numb it makes me want to cry out:

I'm icebound
crystal forms beginning to mass
I tell you I'm icebound
waiting for the storms to pass
i need the warmth of seeing you again
to finally start
the beating of my heart

he was a tin man
ever shy in the shadow of snow
and the asphalt encrusted with salt.
i am a deaf mute in its cold sunshine thru the bare trees
i am the writers reader caught up in the manyfold words
bright and crisp on my stuttering tongue
caught up in the beauty of the phrase
wishing only for its tender workings on my pale lips
caught in the web of light falling thru the bare trees
by the christmas tree so forlorn in febuary wind...
he was a soft spoken tin man
ever shy in the shadow of snow
and the asphalt encrusted with salt
the turbulent sea of my dreams
lashes line and sail with its icebound hand
as i stray between the vision you wept in ink on page
and the words you spoke
soft as a kittens fur
into my sleeping ear
a spun tale
thrashing against me
i am shy with my eyes flirting with yours
look away and recapture your gaze
the asphalt at my feet stained with winters salt
i leave my footprint behind
and wander away into the field of rye
swaying under a cold sun
never to hear the tin man sing again
after he was caught by the catcher in the rye

I am a ship
That has been iced in to arctic chains
For many years
Cold and blowing winds have frosted my sails
And encased my keel
For countless decades

But this long winter
Dark and dreary, with no time for Christmas
Has begun to become spring
Even though the first time I felt warm breezes
I was convinced
It was a deception

Despite every latent chill
When I lose my faith
These mild, lengthening days
I cannot deny
Nor disregard
The dawn breaking forth

My mast and bow are thawing
My hull starting to shift
The ice and snow falling into the sea
Now just chilling water
Cold
But no longer an icebound prison

I cannot wait for the day
When the last ice melts from my decks
And I can set sail on the open water
To voyage new seas, fresh tides
No longer just avoiding
A frost-bitten demise, threatening to lead me to my grave

These warm days
Have broken into my cabin
My maps and charts now colored
With budding trees, birdsong, and warm water
For someday, I do not doubt
I shall sail free, unbound in pleasant wind.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

a broken span of time
a voice echoes in my mind
a feeling reverberates in my soul
but the song ends before i can glean even a
fraction of the meaning

a broken span of time
spent in the icebound train of thought
a memory of a girl smiling
but its in reality a neatly carved lie
demented self
she sits sweating against the wall
panting "****...****...****..."
as she rubs herself
then she left without a word
having done the last of her stuff
she pants harder and harder "****....****...****..."

a jester in the august sun
laughing at himself in a broken span of time
between yesteryear and now
the old man sits on  a pile of rust
carefully spinning a net in which to catch his breath

hes just like us
trying to capture
to hold in onto love which so often slipped thru his
desperate fingers

all i can do
is whisper
"****....****....****...."

11/18/2020

I don’t want to be a person that everybody wants to be,
Why should they look at me and think I have it all together?
Do I put on a show so good they believe it?
My careless apathy is bliss,
But if I showed them that I actually did care,
Would that give them too much power over me?
How many times have I scrolled my contacts?
Deleting numbers, cutting contact.
I’m intimidating sometimes, but what if I have fears of my own?
But really, I have nothing to fear-
Does that mean I fear everything equally?
Could showing fear give me control, if ever so little?
Why is it so empowering to be weak?
What is to be gained by complaining?
Why does it feel good to put yourself down?
But sadness is never as good as joy,
In an instant, comes the surrender to cheerlessness.
But how many words can turn joy into heartache?
How long does it take for broken to be mended?
Are the hours in a day too many?
Why is another sunrise the only thing I’m waiting for?
Will the vagueness of night give way to clarity?
I could ask a million questions, but what do I do with them?
Will the answer I’m seeking satisfy my thirst?
Does a question end only with its answer?
Is a destination the death of a journey?
Or are there paths worth abandoning in the spirit of trust?
How long until there is peace in this tempest?
How many steps are left up this staircase?
I was never lost, but I don’t know where I am.
There has always been One who knows my situation,
Even though I chose to take many steps alone.
Do I possess the strength to do the hard things?
Or will I remain icebound in this paralysis,
As I watch opportunities follow their course without me?
Do I possess the strength to motivate a good cause?
Or will someone else fill the empty shoes I should’ve?
My ears were cold, so I put on earmuffs,
Oh my soul! Grab a megaphone and wake me up!
Pierce the dampened holes of my sleeping heart.