Winter Woes!

bear hibernating

(source)

Find your way out of December

it’s cold

 it’s dark

and it’s grey

it follows right on from November

chasing the autumn away


birthday

(source)

It leads to one of least favourite

January

that hole

in the year

where nothing is right, dark swallows the light

and adds another age to my years


wind

(source)

February, I thole, with its promise

that the

herald of March

will blow in

buffet the cobwebs of winter

soon April will bring again spring


Kinshaldy beach

(source)

May might still feel like winter

Scotland

not noted

for sun

but I hang on, with hope, in these dark days

that June or July will bring some

autumn in scotland

(source)

Failing the former, the latter,

August

might

give us a break

failing a summer then autumn

September, October, I’ll take

grumpy santa

(source)

But stuff the months of midwinter

with their birthdays

and dark days

and shit

Bah, humbug to winter’s

crap weather

don’t like it one little bit


seagulls-with-girl-at-beach

(source)

Should have been born in the hot lands

or taught

to at least

hibernate

I’d gather in nuts and milk chocolate

a pot of tea and just wait


Hibernate

(source)

Till daylight returns to the heartlands

till heart

has thawed

or dried out

any season but winter

hate it without any doubt!

Ringing The Changes

As anyone who reads this blog knows, my natural tendency in poetry is to rhyme. I can’t help it most times. It sort of pours out of me like the rain pours here in Scotland – mostly interminable with occasional bursts of sunshine to ring the changes.

Naturally, I’d love more sunshine but I’ve learned to love the downpours, the drizzle, the being dumped on from above. Hyperbole anyone? But I have learned to love the watery sunshine and the new growth that emerges so furiously after a deluge, the myriad shades of green and the promise of pastel relief.

Mostly I’ve learned to appreciate the sun when it does deign to chase the clouds away and then I’m like every other Scot enjoying the break from the seemingly incessant rain – get your kit off, harvest the rays and let the sun work its magic on pale skin.

We mushrooms might live in too much darkness, way too much moisture but we’re very tasty with a bit of square-sliced sausage and some bacon. Plain bread, brown sauce. Gawd, I’m starving! And we like to turn rotten into meaningful – slight political allusion there. 😉

Anyway, here’s my first Shadorma as far as I remember – mushrooms not being as noted for memory as taste and a slight hint of danger if not picked carefully!

I couldn’t resist a bit of free verse challenge too. Did I mention we Scots like a challenge on our plate?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA  (  Shadorma Challenge – Passing Time )

In darkness

Or festooned by rain

Moisture mulched

Our springtime

Winters Byzantine’s fall

Mushrooms’ summer stance


Free Verse

Insouciant to Northern needs

Strange seasonal rhythm,

Clear skies belie what always gathers

To favour lush growth

And so the greens are very green

Of every hue

Weathered temples succumb to rot

As nature’s need to rejuvenate

Flushes and fuels, sprouting mushrooms,

Rich in resource, delicacies hardened and hardy,

Even in unnatural darkness

Bringing forth flavours

Building on the old.

Normal rhyming service will no doubt be restored because a new cloud burst always follows here. But, today, the sun is shining. Yay! Strip the veil and cast the spores! 😉

Elemental Daughter

She can tell, by turns, which way the world blows,

Lips to air, deep breaths, she tastes, she knows,

Lets the Kaver finger hair and loose clothes,

Mistral rushes through her channelled pores.

She nor’westers within stones long risen,

Empower’d by the buffets in between,

Dances there with deities all borne in that scene,

Feels the pressure, coriolis weaned.

She can rise from rivers, balance water,

Atomic weights, compound all they to her,

She’s the breath, the elemental daughter,

Born, released and free forever more.

Crazy sort of lady is the folk lore,

Witch upon the wind and on the moors,

Bathing in the floods of fire and aether,

Shower’d, she of air, she lives and pours

Flesh to life and soul to all around, rotating,

Twirling dervish, live unto the end,

Controls and calms, by turns, all elements about her,

Every waft of current is her friend.

Listen when she speaks through thunder’d prisms

Wrap yourself in bounty born within,

She curls around all feelings, depths and chasms,

Feel her dancing, daughter of the wind.

Really!

I’m really quite excited here this avo,

I caught it in the air, I really did!

A whiff, although there’s ice still on the pavements,

A little bit of zing that blew my lid!

I was walking with my dog

(that’s twice today, some other bugger’s turn later),

And he was sniffing round as all dogs do,

I sniffed a bit myself, I couldn’t help it

And that’s when I really, really knew

That Spring is just around the corner,

I can feel it in my waatter, as we say,

And it really, really doesn’t matter

If Winter loiters round a few more days (ok, weeks!)

I can tell, as well, because I feel a surging

In my levels of energy and such,

A driving to be doing and Spring-cleaning,

Though I really don’t like the latter very much. :/

But something’s set my soul to stirring,

My feet are itching, hands as well, to move,

My brain’s on overdrive with plans and whatnots,

And my heart is beating faster just to prove

That life’s a gas when Spring is swift approaching

And I’m running fast to meet her as she comes,

I’m high as kite at smell and sight sensations

And shaking off the wintry and doldrums.

I’m really quite incredibly elated,

I’m talking like a train that’s high on speed,

No ice or snow on scan can diminish what I plan

Now Spring is scented, Spring’s my aching need.

Really!

 

 

Take Me

Take me to the bower

Where the scent from perfumed flowers

Is released by the showers

From spring rain

Where buds relinquish drips

From the life-blood that they sip

And harmonic rhythm trips

To life again.

Take me to the grasses undulating in the fields

Where the greens and yellow golds wave in the breeze

Take me quickly, now, from the depths of winter’s grip,

Take me, darling, there, please take me, please.

Bright Pretender

Spring’s pretending thru’ my kitchen window,

Shining on my pots and all my pans,

A cunning bigger bugger’s spying on her,

Keeping winter just too close at hand.

Music’s playing on my kitchen juke-box,

I’m dancing while I cook and while I sing

‘Cause Spring’s pretending at my window

Promising the longer days it brings.

Roast is sizzling comfort in the oven,

Knowing well that any minute soon

The great dissenter shunts my little hoper,

Fills with clouds that darken brightest room.

But I’ll still dance and cook and sing on,

Believing in the tiny peep I’ve viewed,

I’ll serve up hope along with tatties

And slices of pretender I’ve imbued.

Spring is singing and she’s dancing,

We’re jiving here at light that’s on its way,

Pretence or not, I love my little glimmer,

She’s in my kitchen, brightening up my day.

 

Lottery

The door slammed,

Metaphorically,

But it was loud.

It closed all chances,

Betrayed feelings;

Love in a shroud.

 

Embalmed the heart,

Pinioned wings

And severed

Connections felt;

Passion

Undelivered.

 

A gust came then,

Wafted through

And left,

Refreshed the soul

Though heart was left

Bereft.

 

Storm clouds clear,

Skies lighten,

Blue breaks through,

Sunshine promised

And heart may still

Renew.

 

A lottery

Of love

And broken hearts,

So life goes,

New tickets

Hope imparts.

Ever Changing

Stripped bare,

Back to bark,

Rigid vulnerability,

Extremities beseeching

Darkened sky,

Heavy with promise of

Elemental hardship.

Life dips to source,

Buries beneath

Compacted soil,

Seeking renewal,

Replenishing,

Awaiting

New life,

New growth.

Pondering

Future

Garlands,

Garments to array,

In lighter days

With higher skies.

Reaching up,

Outstretched limbs,

Praising heavens’

Airy sunshine.

No longer only down

Nor beneath,

Underground,

Spreading roots

Supporting,

Tenuously

Clinging.

Life.

Ever changing.

Vulnerable But Hardy

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Winter_trees_(3210061866).jpg