Winter’s Crowning Glory

   
A haunting fog creeps through 

The snow covered valley. 

Ice and snowflakes adorn the tree trunks

And the mountains are crowned with 

Winter’s glory. 

The sun fades and faintly illuminates

The iridescent mountaintops

And they glow with the pinkish hues 

Of blushing Aphrodite.

One more sunrise

One more sunset

Until the setting of the year. 

 

Advertisements

Writers Get Distracted

Writers save these moments,

the quiet moments among the chaos of life.

The shape of a lover’s lips after they’ve been kissed,

the smell of a scarf that holds a weekend of memories,

the color of their eyes in the waking of the day.

Writers get distracted

by seemingly insignificant things

because we have made it a mission 

to watch for the beauty in our every day lives.

We get distracted by the colors in the sky,

the feeling of the breeze on our skin,

the taste of something sweet and scrumptious.

Writers might forget

exactly what was said

but never will the way you made them see or think or feel

ever be lost.

Writers save these moments

along life’s rugged path

so that when the road gets bumpy

we have a reservoir of exquisite memories 

to keep us going in the end.

A Smoldering Snowflake

The chilly autumn air waxes and wanes in strength

by the slow-moving sleepy waterway. 

Gondolas float leisurely up and down the river,

leaving gentle ripples in the ever darkening surface

and making the drifting braziers nod with every undulation.

I can feel the smoldering heat from my 

seat on the cold stone banks of the river,

watching the crackling pops of wood throw sparks into the air. 

I told you then, of the scars the littered my body

of the despair and despondency that put them there,

and of the hate that nearly put an end to me.

With the most tender of touches you held my face

and caught the tears as they trailed down my cheeks.

When you held me in your arms that night,

I was surrounded by the fire of your existence

burning hotter than the flaming river,

burning brighter than the sparks that fluttered down 

to settle on our cheeks

like a red-hot snowflake’s gentle kiss.

Your lips have burnt away the fragments of those atrocious emotions,

and with fingers locked together

you made manifest the passion I thought 

I had locked away for good.

Oh how fortunate am I of all

to know you who wipes clean the slate,

remembers the marks and calls them proof of strength.

Poetry Sunday: Percy Bysshe Shelley

Love’s Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle –
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea –
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?