"nippy" poems
We ambled the streets of Harare
Meandering aimlessly
Fleeting past wide-eyes scanning us enviously
Hand in hand we walked into the restaurant
Leisurely on Second Street
Our hunger awakened
Our appetites heightened
At almost closing time
With no one in overtime mode
A signal that here we could only dine on another day
Joina City was our next stop
Up the lift right to the top
'Closed' it read at the coffee shop
Into the nearest chair I went flop!
Though hungry, we gabbed non-stop
By and by we regarded the clock
It chimed 8 o'clock
And sadly, it was time to go home
Busy and noisy
Were the streets of Harare
Jabbering crowds, kombis hooting
Hawkers, vendors or is it hustlers now -
Calling for buyers or just huddled to pass time
No chill in Harare
Picturesque like a dream
Surreal…
Hand in hand we dawdled
In despair for a hot meal
In the shimmering distance
Like a mirage in the desert
The neon lights read
'Creamy Inn'
Something to calm our rambling bellies
At last…
Nippy evening air hit our souls
'Ice-cream tastes better at night'
I said
'I can't believe I'm having ice-cream'
He said
We frolicked
Hand in hand we danced past faces painted with adoration
'What a handsome lover!'
They probably thought:
My delectable younger brother
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
Hot cocoa,
so saccharine,
so sweet,
Warm me through the bitterest winter,
the iciest claw of the wind
Hot cocoa,
melting on tasteless tongues
warming my tiny, gelid hands
You trickle and run down numb throats
leaving milky, brown streaks
on colorless lips
Hot cocoa,
rolling and tumbling in nippy stomaches
as my belly rumbles and thunders for more
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
nippy thursday outside
black berry clusters gather
in their dark matter conclaves
silent is the August essence
it’s morning and it’s laundry day
got only your boxers on
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
(My lady in waiting
Was a cougar crouched in the brush.)
Brush it off, no big deal.
I'll console myself
By talking to strangers,
Fraternizing with friends
And enemies alike.
Maybe old men
Fornicating at my image
Is better than true friendship,
Tangible attachment or comfort.
Maybe I never needed it.
(The look and feel of
Printed words on a screen.)
(Maybe the chill was me,
Maybe I am a bit nippy.)
No time was spent
Trying to harvest this field,
Cold winter took all in bloom,
Fresh compassion plucked
Before ripeness came to play.
What was I to you?
We suspected a dream.
I comforted you in
The idea that I was there,
That I could listen.
(My lady in waiting
Was a cougar crouched in the brush.)
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 11:09 PM UTC
I flew were rain descended
gleaming like an iris
waiting for the sunshine to sneak
behind the tenebrous clouds
to endure the sprinkles of nippy water
flowing like a queen in majestic raiment
streaming in routes
delivering pristine rinse to flora
and I penetrate right into it
to dance to the melody of its music!!
©_shade_of_a_lonely_girl_
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
nightsong/fallsong
nippy nightfog, dark drive (solo)
breathy windshield, elmvale driveway defog,
a naked girl/thru the house panes
whose bareness
is shown teasingly. (full aware)
homestead.
lamplight, "goodnight!", golden readlight.
bowl of noodles -- broccoli,
darkly pacing silent upstairs/eight-track recorder loudsound (genesis/trick of the tail)
weedpipe outside cold fresh nighttime.
outdoor pissing/rockwall/hosetap,
posters/scotchtape/pins
(troilus & cressida pages taped to th'wall)
alone with thinkcap, lady dreamin'
(that ass!---ahh!) (sighs)
ragged joint thru windowscreen . . . baked-up mouth pasted---ice tea sippin' (glorious)
warm blankets & an empty bed;
need to get out of this ****** old town
empty; lonesome songs.
---but, think better . . .
this pre-spain hometown transatlantic waitin' sadness won't last
forever.
& tripping gets you nowhere. (snoop dogg)
smoke again and maybe put on
more genesis.
. . .
*(tho it is fleetwood mac instead
that i slap on/toss myself into bed.)*
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 4:06 PM UTC
there are loose leaves
at the bottom of my teacup
I rarely finish drinking the thing
- instead I stare through the dark transparent liquid
at barely-floating twiggy tea leaves that
escaped from the bag
I am forgetful
and unforgiving of myself
I am too easily entranced by
lights and thin branches that dance above muddy grass
my eyes see things breathe
like marbled floors and brick buildings
I am so enraptured by rabbit fur
and tree bark
rabbits prance along the neighbourhoods
and I love the game of seeing how close I can get to them
before they leap away
when I think of bliss,
I think of not knowing what is coming next
more even, not caring
when I think of bliss,
I think of running after rabbits
or petting a tree
I do these things when no one’s looking
so no one catches the crazy in me
there are loose coffee grounds
at the bottom of my mug
caffeine kills me
and I love the taste
of the cruelty
but my body is hurting
again
like last year
where fainting and falling and confusing my words in conversation
arose every time I felt an anxious feeling
nudge its way in deeper
maybe it’s just way of giving up
my body surrendering in complete so that I feel full effect
of how badly I’ve treated it
it’s hurting again
so much that sometimes I can barely get out of bed
or get off the bus
and walk the trek home in the nippy night
I see rabbits prance along the neighbourhoods
and oh look, I am repeating myself
again
I hardly notice because my head is hurting
like there are a million and one hurricanes
inside of it
less of a crash and more like a rush
there is a difference between headaches
and light headedness
both hurt though
still I’m ashamed I’m lightheaded all the time
there is a weakness in it
that only frail people can relate to,
the scatterbrains, the unconcentrated, the anorexics, the cancer patients
the sick-of-some-sort
what am I?
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:33 PM UTC
Oh Winter, I welcome you,
Your nippy air, your kindling hues,
And the tint they cast on my moods,
Oh Winter, if only you knew,
The simple pleasures your arrival bears-
The precious sleep that only your lullaby brings,
The sudden love for rich food you excite,
And so many other little 'winter things'-
Things like colourful gloves and socks,
And poor unsheltered, chilled pink nose tip,
And age-old pseudo-smoking out cold breath,
And cherry/strawberry/cocoa balms to coat the lips,
Doodling a beloved's name on a frosted window,
And tugging blanket under toes in bed, snugly,
The evening nap feeling more easing than ever,
Followed by heavenly gulps of warm milky coffee.
Oh Winter, despite, as the time of
Separation and Forlornness being ill-famed,
Each time you visit, you touch my senses
And leave them pleasantly tingling and inflamed.
For summer may be bright, sunny and sky-blue,
But you can be an enticing dark, a passionate maroon,
You mischievous cupid hiding under the garb of cosiness,
Refilling hearts with yearnings anew.
Welcome, dear Season of Romance,
Time to commence the routine all over again,
Of you- enthusing me with deep cold-warm sentiments,
And me- writing poems celebrating this eternal game.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
Now, it's our time to laze,
We've reached our Autumn days,
Chilling air, smoky haze,
Russet and brown, golden days,
Leaves descending,
Time for sweeping,
Bulbs for planting,
We head for dormancy,
Grey skies, no more sunnies,
Heating on, fleecies adorn,
Every day, a nippy morn,
Winter warmth already?
Yes, comfort food keeps us steady.....
Now it's our time to laze,
These are our Autumn days.........
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
The crisp, nippy air and tired, grey clouds embrace me and I don't want them to let go.
A cotton sweatshirt, denim jeans, and skate shoes can only keep me so warm and safe. Then I'm vulnerable. I become transparent. It's so liberating to be honest, but it feels even better to share this. And that is something I usually don't.
But if it's with her, what do I really need anyway? Confidence, approval, guidance, renewal? Chance said 'there ain't nothin' better than fallin' in love,' so now it makes total sense why it's my favorite drug.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
Windy is the day and cordial are clouds
Drifting through the sky in the month of May
The sun hides behind the dark shroud
Blazingly hot been the noon but as
Crawls it away the blues of heaven
Dimmed and wind plays like a carefree lass
Soft summer skies send their showers
****** the rain-drops dance and drizzle
Pitter patter, plip plop songs of the hour
Freshen the heavens awash all dust and heat
Soon the sun gold-drenched smiles and winks
Gentle like a kiss the air blows nippy and sweet
Me with myself swaying with summer zephyr
Sleepy thoughts drift away with woolly packs
Inner desires replenished by Mother Nature
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Aching...
Aching in a place where I only thought love was generated.
Frustrated...
Frustrated in a area where I thought, my thoughts sought and fought for understandings
Chilly, shivery, nippy, bitter,
Like the runt of a litter
Tired; not drowsy
Tired; not sleepy
Tired; not sluggish or slumberous
Tired as in worn, burned-out, weary...
...Done
It is not only that you do not feel the effects,
You don't even see them on my face
You look at me everyday,
I just look back
If you don't have a clue
If you don't ask, or don't care
That's a clue
That's my Q
Dont ask Y
When you become my X
...
At night I've been losing Zs
I have to start paying more attention to I
I gave up all of my energy, and now I'm running on E
So now I don't give a F
LOL (Lost Our Love)
You lost it too; I'm J/K (Just Knowing)
I'm glad IDK (I Didn't Kneel)
Now I have to B.S (Block Sensitivity)
And ***** (LET MY ******* ANGER OUT)
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
The sun still sets fairly late—
Eight o’clock it’s usually dark.
Its rays are still warming, during the day,
But shadows are growing longer
And the wind under the shadows
Is growing colder and finer,
Weaving between the fibers
Of your jacket to sting your skin,
Like a thousand tiny needles.
Nippy days are becoming more frequent,
But not this one—yet.
It hasn’t changed in, oh, seven, eight years,
At least. The sun shines down on us
Over the grass, the wind
Whistling across the flat field
As we played.
The TV stays on all afternoon,
When you’re home. Always sounds, noise,
Cooking, hollering, announcers
Saying nothing just to talk.
Cut this day out,
Slide it forward five years,
Ten, whatever.
It still fits.
And when you’re not home,
It’s like it was so long ago,
Outside on a day when everything
Is changing, playing
And having fun.
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
**it's one of those nippy nasty days
but i like my town nevertheless
Even with its infamous cold
numbing my senses and cramping my jaw
there's an unfailing antidote to all that:
a wood fire with smoke going up the chimney
and warmth radiating around the room
add a steaming cup of tea to that and a voice on the radio
or a glass of opaque beer brewed the indigenous way
seven days of fermentation like the story of creation
the dog has its tail between its legs and whimpers speechless tears
baby lizards dart to spots where the sun sometimes rests
and i sit in my armchair dreaming about warmer days
but happy that there is a contrast that enhances the pleasure
thus we must always be grateful for this little thing, this treasure
the smile from a loved one that melts all the ice
makes the sun come shining through
and makes us whole again**
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
When I describe the air in the current season I never have the words to Articulate This feeling
Fall
Autumn
Harvest
All hallows
A Season To Be Thankful
The corn
ready to be cut
Or perhaps molded into a maze for the little ones
Pumpkins
Full of spice and flavor for you to smell
Or maybe just to be severed for your porch
The air
Is crisp, refreshing
When you say “it’s nice outside,” this is to what you refer
Is nippy, full
On the edge of Sweaters
On days I have time I like to lay in the center of the field after practice and breathe
The air restores my soul, my hope
If nothing else, I love
The air
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 9:19 PM UTC
Dainty snowflakes dance down from the sky, a concoction of whimsy and nostalgia.
I see your face in the flurry, the nippy chill numbing my senses and bringing me back to the days we first met.
I remember the first day I kissed you, our lips ridden with nicotine and nervousness.
It took about two weeks for me to muster up the courage to kiss you, for our mouths to speak to eachother, without words.
The sensation of flesh against flesh, wrapped in eachother, and the fireworks I felt in that moment remind me of the windchill, sending shivers down my spine, igniting goosebumps as though you had pushed down on a TNT trigger, hidden inside of me.
I remember how I had pulled away from our embrace, hid my face in the folds of your flannel out of fear of being rejected- giggling and apologizing for the sloppiness of my love.
You wrapped me up in your arms, quieting my apologies, warmth radiating off of you like a space heater- a warmth I knew I could never resist ever again from that moment on.
Because of you, I've learned to love winter, almost as much as I love you.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
autumn skies and pumpkin pies.
great orange fields, large in size,
leaf turns to leaf as gold comes to see;
what excitement to behold, and how happy to be.
nippy air and extra layers of sleeves.
bitter cold air as my breath comes alive.
wisping away, fast deep into loving lives.
Oh October is here and I feel just happy!
to be with everyone with hair blowing shaggy.
I love this time, and I hope i explained why.
it's these
autumn skies
and
sweet salient sighs.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 12:45 AM UTC
They collected cockles on the seashore,
Purely for their crunchy shells,
To decorate the rockery, in the flower garden,
They were washed up in abundance,
The rock pools alive with shrimp things,
And worms, that wriggled and jiggled, all twisted and turned.
The rocks round the edges were slippery and slimy,
Crabby creatures were kind of nippy, as was the water of spring time tides,
And the **** of the sea, predicted the weather,
Again, their predictions, they were never ever right.
Youngsters with nets, collected their pets,
Poor little pool fish, destined to die,
In an old preserve jar,
Left on the side in the kitchen,
The one with mid-brown melamine,
Under the cupboard, by the door,
Mummy keeps ********
She never wants sea fish alive in her kitchen,
Mummy never made their flamboyant offspring, set them free,
The fishes day out died,
Minute silver things, skirting about,
Too small to even splash.
Kids curiosity got them, as down the loo they slipped,
Dead fish, on the sewer dash, repatriated to the sea.
(C) Livvi
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
When the crime is right
& the devil wet
the nocturnal forrest is a skin
and ceremony thin dreams broach reason
they poach me with a caustic blooded rash
approaching as nippy darts ; visions of shard and coil
a metallic eggy rot
and pan to the darkness
snapping electric
irregular from that darkness
spaces between the trees comb
form a hyper hectic wealth of flushes
a blush burst discharges in the body
booming pulse
blooming rabidly
salivating to a ******* savagery
a nature to express
forecast
within permeable forrest
i have energy amazed limbs
daring a dance
screamin' hole The Frenzy
dog-shaking the head
legs flung and planted
crushing ferns
this hefty simian sway
a broadcast challenge
invitation
a power coward
commanding a matching of kinds
excitation
no longer to be foetal and cowed
an aching unmend amended
a call is placed
the spell is rendered
- resonate
May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 9:11 PM UTC
it's like I'm playing 'doctor' with myself
telling me that "this won't hurt a bit."
I guess that I'm not lying to myself
I don't know if it hurts to quit
no experience--sometimes you really only get one shot
no, not a shot, too messy--this is a chance
but I hope I've tied a good one
like one try on your first shoe-tie, and then having to dance
it's a tad nippy out the windowsill
the rope is so languid in my hands
it looks just like my neck probably will
but pondering is not what this demands
a nice rope, not too fat, too thin
although, a little itchy, adjust it some
it's funny I still care about itchy
it's funny that I can't go numb
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 1:50 AM UTC
The rain falls slow the air is cloudy
You don't have a care in the world.
The lights are dim the fire's burning
We're perfect alone in this room.
The snow is deep the wind is nippy
You ***** and you cry and you mope.
Your toes are cold your tears are frozen
I just want you to go home.
It's steamy and sweaty and sticky
But we don't seem to mind.
Get me a little more alcohol
And I think we'll be just fine.
The air is crisp the colours are rich
We're holding hands in the park.
I guess we've had some ups and downs
But I love you with all of my heart.
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 3:39 PM UTC
it’s lips poured spirits and wine
- fresh squeezed-
into my hands, into my system.
And it walks behind me sober. Watching my slurring stumbles
whilst an old sense of strength from inside me
poured from my mouth, spilling on concrete.
my legs fail me and I fall a trance. Into it’s arms.
But only for a sweet second -
and now I’m smothered lying in stone cold slate, it’s so nippy, the cold.
and it’s shadow blocks the streetlight floating above me.
Wait; streetlight is glaring dim orange again
now that it has dispersed away, down the pathway.
With open arms, it’s searching for a sober.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC