Is it winter?

There was a time when winters here were cold
When snow and ice bit deep into the bone
And frosted windows met us, rising, every morn
When icy pavements meant we slipped and slid along.
There was a time when summers were so warm
The sun shone bright between the clouds
And heat rose humid from the fields,
Bright with wildflowers, buzzing insects
And the heady scents of earth and farm.
But then came now, and now it should be winter
But the February temperature tells me no,
For I feel the heat rise across both town and country
See a clear blue unremitting glare upon the water
And the butterflies awake and flit and start
But it is winter or is winter summer now?
For this thing called climate change has confused us all.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

Picture the scene

Snow scene
Paints  times of nostalgia
Quintessential village landscape
Bedecked with a blanket of snow
The coverall.
Happy families skipping 
by the river path
To the kismet bridge
Beneath the star that was foretold.
And beneath the snow
Under that cloak of invisibility 
What lies there on a cold winter night of glad tidings;
Do you know?
Have you watched the homeless 
Beg in the shopping mall
And the destitute turn to crime
Or shoot their own stars
So they too can dream of fluffy white*
Marshmallow clouds in the arms 
Of evergreen Christmas trees?
Yet it’s Christmas, a time of winter cheer
Giving and goodwill; give it a thought.

I was attracted by this lovely snow scene in the barber’s window and in most of the small shops in town a different if similar Christmas snow scene. So lovely and happy and it did in fact raise my spirits to see it. However, as I sat down to write the poem twisted itself as I thought and saw that our preparations leave the poor and destitute even further behind. A time of goodwill and giving to others has been turned inward and made a gluttony of excess. In my local town the churches have thankfully set up night shelters for the 3 months of December January and February and Christmas Day itself promises to be special. I wonder what Christmas specials are happening in your towns?

  • Image from the Song It’s a Marshmallow World in the Winter: lyrics © Shapiro Bernstein & Co. Inc.

 

Words and photo by Englepip.

Frozen Forest

A sudden chill
And Autumn turns to winter
Overnight.
Leaves that have clung
Through Autumn gales
Now frozen on each bough
Cling tentatively 
Before succumbing to the chill
And falling one by one
By one.
The freezing fog lies
Long into the day,
Mist throughout the 
Forest rests
On bracken fronds beneath
Turning them ice-white frosty.
It is as though time has stopped
And nature has withdrawn
To think about its future, 
Giving the world
A much needed
Breathing space.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

You Leave me Hanging On

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You leave me hanging on

Waiting for a word of commitment,

Not to be found, 

But encouraged by your smile

And flattering words I am still here. 

You leave me in a limbo 

Between emotional life and death

Feelings once blossoming

Subdued and dying back

With each Autumn day. 

Caught by the power of your scent 

And the addictive intimacy 

Of your touch, I was blinded by 

Your words of love: a sham. 

Now I am held here,

Dangling from your branch

As a dead leaf which turns from green

To brown, until it flutters lifeless

To the ground of your winter. 

 

Photo and words, copyright Englepip©

Daily Prompt: White Rose

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A winter’s day

And already the sun is low on the horizon

A chill creeps through the air

As the light sinks.

The graveyard settles into shadow

And night.

At my feet lie the dead.

Buried beneath the cold clods

Stones at their heads that read

Of poetic loss and grief at their passing.

“Beloved son”, “Loving mother,”

“Sacred to the memory.”

The once living

Now lie inanimate,

Six feet under.

Waiting: for what?

For eternity, for heaven or for hell?

Certainly, their release from this life passed,

Is there death, new life, resurrection?

For this is a Christian place.

As I turn to go,

I retrieve a discarded rose,

White and innocent in the dewy grass

And I place it on the moss-covered  wall

Between the sacred land and the unconsecrated.

Is it for me to sympathise in death or

To celebrate of the life to come?

 

We shall all find out in time.

 

Words and photo copyright to Englepip©

via Daily Prompt: Sympathize

Colours

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Grey, damp and depressing and

The sun hovers just above the horizon

So that days are short and nights long.

A chill envelops me and I cough

Cough up my guts and sniffle.

Oh for summer months and

warm, long days with flowers

In the garden – a sensation  of

Colour and scents and glory

At life so profuse. It will come.

And in the meantime, I will dream.

 

Words and photo copyright Englepip©

 

via Daily Prompt: Profuse