"wintertide" poems
*She's like deliquescent caramel,
the cool side of a pillow
to lay your weary head,
subtleties of springtime &
warmth in wintertide,
whispering hope upon lush
Zephyrus pipe dreams,
mellifluous nymph with wings
of a butterfly warrior,
softly determined,
unfailingly true-hearted,
whilst relentlessly ferocious
Wise, yet sometimes struts
blindly in the light,
as dulcet tones of a cello's
melodious marmalade
in sentiment's tender fancy,
she's beauty, charm,
knowledge, poetry,
utter strength,
& humane weaknesses,
she's twisted and ethereal,
her aura sublimely captivating
you may covet her body,
you'll never possess her soul*
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws
And grasses in the mead renew their birth,
The river to the river-bed withdraws,
And altered is the fashion of the earth.
The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear
And unapparelled in the woodland play.
The swift hour and the brief prime of the year
Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye.
Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring
Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers
Comes autumn with his apples scattering;
Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs.
But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar,
Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams;
Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are
And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams.
Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add
The morrow to the day, what tongue has told?
Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had
The fingers of no heir will ever hold.
When thou descendest once the shades among,
The stern assize and equal judgment o'er,
Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue,
No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more.
Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain,
Diana steads him nothing, he must stay;
And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain
The love of comrades cannot take away.
9.1k
Crimson maple buds magically pucker
under brightening skies
Lenten rose reluctantly unfolds
absolving the shadowed snow,
stemming the wintertide
Spring's impending bloom
mystically stirs the delicate human heart
soothing from outside its sheltering shell
A converging pleasantness
of a sunshine sown awakening
cleanses each morning breath drawn
to sate an urgent restrained longing
The wilderness carpet comes alive
with a burgeoning salient sweetness
drawing out a glimmer of gladness
from stale suffocating darkness’
wallowing in the winter ennui
Another kind of poignant balm sinks
from the tall mountain willow tree
touching the sprouting blue sky
Furry fragrant catkins blossom sweetly
like the remnants of a love once known
softly brushing against a fading memory
of unerasable stains begrudgingly beget
Like fawning flowers falling fallow
in a passing season’s pollination breeze
Manipulating frayed heartstrings,
unhealed as the deer peeled scars
and rubbed bark of a mountain willow,
scarred from another season past
Some protective shell ― never grows back
when benign heartwood is brought to light
harlon rivers ... Spring 2018
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
The season is a lullaby
of frosted clocks and prickling ire
impatience with the steadfast solemnity
of the wintertide uniform
Locked in crystal formation, the sunshine sleeps
where the mountains beckon
the very peaks
and the hours of the passing days diminish
into austere darkness,
Yet my heart thrills with each crystal shimmer
and beats a pulse that cannot be met
by any life
contained in snow
There is a whisper to my very soul
from the whitening glow
as it shatters the bones of cold
Such Redemption in the icy sound
sets my mind heaven bound
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
I love to close my eyes
& find a stillness –
in the turning world.
My imagination wanders,
to you.
My memories make
Pleasure.
~ Ephemeral bliss ~
Peaking in the swells gentle set.
Mid-solitudes of the vast Pacific.
Young honey lip lovers
Warmth in wintertide;
a wild iteration of summer.
Mio Amore
My sunshine in the shadow.
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
Looking out across the many shades of dark on dark
The rolling ashen gray fog opens a window to the dawn
and I feel a loneliness, arising like the winter sun
… in the morning
The trees have bared their golden surrender
Breaking silence through the windswept boughs
below, gathered dewdrops blossom on the last winter rose
… a chilling epilogue
Beyond the waning hydrangea sundried sepia tones
Latent conflicts of the head and heart stir the hush of memories
imposing heart whispers, arising like sunlight shadows cast
… in the morning
There’s no one listening to the wind roar the incoming wintertide
An ascending sadness paints many hues that contrast dark and light
as the Pink Moon, steals away over lonely mountain headed south
… in the morning
every picture tells a story ― ☾ wild is the wind ☽
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
White violets in the window
Scarlett leaves tumble across
the mossy hidden stones
mound beneath a chilly winter's dawn
A cold wind bares the dogwood tree
where puffed out plumaged woodpecker
gleans on creations' plump red bounties,
beheld subsistence beget for feral wings
Bright crimson fattened rose hips season,
lingering in the frigid morning dew;
stirring warm memories of fruitlet tea's
steeped from gathered garden magic spells
A spoonful of love and raw honey mellowed
a life once so lovingly endeared
Hot Blueberry dutch-oven scratch biscuits
imbue the wafting fragrant air —
life's cherished moments tarry
in the head and heart;
sipped by ruby lips still tasting
the untamable passion
of a breathless goodnight kiss
White violets blossom in the window
the morning fire's crackle echoes
a pining memories' gentle whisper
awakened by the incoming wintertide
A dulcet breeze not soon forgotten
— melancholy traces linger
like a passing season's swan song
as your memory — leads me on...
harlon rivers ... December 5th, 2018
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
You're cold, and so am I.
The bundles of black tree stalks tower.
Their short ice-coated limbs puff like smoke,
Such naturally produced chimney stacks.
But this wonder inspires madness.
This magical world with you and I
Can only be measured in the real.
Why cloud ourselves with synthetic doubt,
When we could cherish what we can see?
The morning sun, squandering for heat
Has yet to overcome the winter.
The right recipe would ruin sight
Of something so much greater than warmth.
Nurturing open landscapes with you,
Our esoteric dreamscapes break free.
Your smile is what warms my cold heart.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
A frozen wind is whistling, all through the starry night.
snow within it, it howls along the frozen paths, of the midnight
winters winds, beneath the moon, and thousand lights.
The trees are whispering, dead leaves soon to fall, they voice
their last and final breaths, before the fall of wintertide, and
the stunted length of days. I sit and watch the evening fall,
and the leaves gone one by one, spinning down to frozen earth,
at the beck of the winter winds. I think of how I sit here, the how,
the where, the why. Why am I here, sitting and watching the death
of another year, quiet all about me, none beside me, while my age
rises from its restless slumber, and pronounces loud, my own mortality,
and the shortening length of days. Snow is falling, sound beneath the quiet,
adding depth to the empty silence. The snow falls all around, and blankets all
in pristine white, and a mantle of heavy quiet, beneath the clacking of the hardened
branches, and rustling of leaves, dead and doomed to fall, beneath the moon and
thousand stars, and the weight of early death.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
He softly touched her cheek
the same way cold touched
the first few mornings
of Februaryㅡfrigid but somehow fleeting.
Full of adoration
yet full of uncertainties.
And like the whispers of warmth
on some mornings,
he's almost always anticipating to leave.
With those cold hands of his,
he softly touched her cheek
and like the fury between
the cold and warm,
he kissed her
while whispering goodbye
at the same time.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
The jolly song that once did sing our soul
Is now unheard of and is long forgone,
For now that wintertide lasts evermore,
When cometh spring—when shall our song return?
The lonely soul doth live in misery,
For where we dwell there is no memory.
And now that past is past forgotten so,
I speak alone and dust shall I become.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
there were golden lines slicing through the blinds when we came back from it. sometimes puddles form around the window while the rain falls steadily to join the old, as grey as the diamond blanket we dream under, as cold as the a/c unit that bites my toes every morning. i wrote a few small words on the crease of your back between the valley of your shoulder blades, nothing new, words of adoration, admiration, admonition, disbelief at where we are.
sometimes at night i see outlines of trees being tossed by the wind and i welcome the metaphors that creep into my brain of how similar we are, the trees and me. you're like the winter and i'm the summertime and snowflakes tied to sun-rays have never looked more outlandish and real.
remember when the thunder fought with the sound of your heartbeat and everything faded into a realm unreachable and we discovered who we were. the grey splattered wallpaper of this bedroom starts to feel like smog when you aren't around, what else can my eyes fix themselves to. i hang on to every i can't believe it, i'm in love with you, this is crazy like each letter is oxygen and i'm running out of clean air.
sometimes at night i trace your face with my eyes and wish you would say them again. sometimes i fall into holes around the sidewalk and i forget. i've never craved the wintertime more in my life. you always find me when i'm lost in those holes, crawl inside with your snowflakes and words, stay with me until i learn to walk again.
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Yay! Some cold at last, and even a dusting of snow.
We moved back into the dorm—braving knife-like breezes—yesterday.
It was bracing and heroic - do I want it to warm up?
That’s a hard no.
let’s wax poetic..
Think not of winter as bleak
wrap your steely bones warmly, wear a cap
—for gelid wintertide can bind us together.
Midwinter is the time o' the year to be warm hearted,
to find a companion, a creature fair, a lass (or a manly man)
and suggest a more temperate snuggle— it can do no harm to try.
Think not of winter as bleak
make sweet use of flattery, and face cold’s embrace
likewise, cheek to cheek, with a warming and open heart.
.
.
Snowbird by Rani Arbo & Daisy Mayhem
We'll Sing In the Sunshine by Thornbirds
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 12:05 PM UTC
Wonders of creation , observable in the brushstrokes of Athena .
Eventide hues embellish the colors of nightfall , a songbirds taciturn refusal within the advent of darkness , land becoming indiscernible from the Heavens when Boreas and Thor collide ..
Northern winds reveal the paradigm call to battle in wintertide , Hill country is no stranger to warring servants ..
I'm coming home tonight forever , removing the thin guise of a confused world to bask in starlight , the language of immortality now perceptible to weary eyes .
Forever is the coupling of past and present , a long journey across the black diamond sea comes to fruition ..
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Today I am thankful for the silent moments
covering the morning hours,
minutes prolonged inside hushed walls,
absent the pressures of what I must provide.
I am serene.
The oakwood blazes hissing out snowfall's moisture,
kittens frolic, fluffily bouncing, pattering in holiday fluster.
The wintertide's sheepish wool in flight,
drifting upon the up-country's chilled breeze,
let's out a flaked trail towards our summit
crystallizing our land into a brilliant Wonderscape.
No toiling for me this day,
I am at rest, as is my whole house.
Thankfully piddling about
at their most cherished past times.
Allowed to delicately gaze at snowflakes
for hours.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
Sun sleeps in grey coat,
Cold rain tapping on window,
. . . Old winter waking.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
The harsh greys of smog hang over the bleak,
slush filled,
pavements.
While the days,
dully,
slither past my window.
The wintertide is punishing.
Dec 22, 2022
Dec 22, 2022 at 4:21 AM UTC
Twas essential to see her in wintertide -
misery in order to appreciate the abundant daffodils -
of spring , the cardinal ever watchful over -
her fledgelings , the gaiety , pomp and circumstance -
of damsel flies , the mockingbird flautist and -
the peckerwood drumming
The morning laughter of Bear creek
The multicolored blades of March that -
stair step the Mill Falls
Morning dove woo their lovers , whitetails -
in repose , in the backdrop of misty , hardwood -
cover
Her poetic omnipotence in touch with my -
innermost being
Ever watchful as the cardinal
Breath exposed
Pious
Forever thankful
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
*Box Elder arms brace for the wrath of the December wintertide monster , naked and forlorn the defenseless struggle onward , Rock bass shine like polished silver in sluggish , crystalline waters
Lakesongs and velvet moss with dancing Birch motion , Crows begin to quote each note verbatim with rehearsed , telltale emotion
Creek rocks command the jetty , foundation and cattle harbors
Morning brooks continuously speak of a hidden , silent struggle* ...
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 7:11 PM UTC
A wintertide timid sun shines green along the stacked pine
In myirad hues agin some lonesome fenceline
Sparkle red clay beside the hardwood borders
Keep a writers flicker of thought in apple pie order ...
Pull the bucket mouths to the surface
See shad tremble , darting and nervous
Caste the shadow of a stately heron
Paint the colors of Spring at the behest of Hill Country's
songbird clarion...
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 2:16 PM UTC