Tag Archives: #cold

A poem for a cold and frosty (Friday) morning.

My fingers type

the words;

no hype,

just honest

to goodness

feelings.

Unlike,

in my fingers,

where I have none.

My brain

also

struggles

to keep the warmth

of creative thought alive;

but, there is a glimmer

from an unquenchable ember

that I have

deep in the heart of my being.

Out in the weather

I was out in all the weathers the other day, and this is the poem I wrote whilst the rain seeped into my head, and the cold infiltrated my body, blowing the cobwebs away.

My ears are cold,

my body old,

but, my heart is bold.

My limbs no longer tend to fold,

and my grip, on reality, has less of a hold;

my mind has veins

of purest gold;

but my groin… has mould,

which can be fatal,

or so I’m told.

Outside

Outside

It was cold outside

but now I’m back

and the fire is on

and I’m warming up

and I have a cup of warmth

with which I shall defrost

and with sense returning to my fingers

I can pen a poem

which I shall call

Outside

even though

it’s more about

what is happening

Inside.

Upon How The Daffodil Became Ill

Upon How The Daffodil Became Ill

The Daffodil was feeling fine,

the day was cold,

but, the sun did shine.

It ventured out

a soul so bold

and into the air did shout:

“Look at me,

I’m fancy free!”

and smiled unto the world.

Then, it went in search of friends,

walked about, not quite to the ends of the Earth;

but down dale and up hill,

until…

atop a snow-covered mound –

a carpet of white

upon the ground –

it found a sense of liberty,

a peace of mind,

for one to be,

the highest peak the Daffodil,

of whom we speak, could find.

A sense of infinite well-being

was felt by the Daffodil,

until…

it decided to ski ‘down’ the hill.

Not a great skier,

no grace, no style,

the Daffodil was descending

at many a mile

per hour;

then things turned sour…

All control was lost,

and the final cost

was a bump on the head,

two broken legs,

and a stem that was twisted

and bitter.

The Daffodil felt shock

it was only 8 o’clock

and time was no friend to a flower.

From low unto high

to even lower by and by

in no more than

a quarter of an hour.

@Merrymeet

@Merrymeet

A little walk on the cool side;

maybe, I would prefer the pool side;

but, upon reflection,

my selection

is just what is needed

to clear away the cobwebs.

(Cold)

(Cold)

Monday

November

(Cold)

Soon December

(Cold)

Then January

(Cold)

And February

(Cold)

and soon…

Sorry!

and so on…

Writing Haiku doesn’t keep one warm when it is tres cold at the Train Station – I know!

image

At the train station
Waiting for the Eastleigh train
To take me to work.

It is cold, today;
But, it will warm up later;
Then it will be hot.

It is a ‘Monday!’
The first day of my work week;
As it starts again.

By this time Friday
I will have almost finished
And the week near done.

But, not quite there yet;
Still here on a Monday morn,
With lots yet to go.