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Book online «Winter Poems, Mark E. Myers [essential reading .TXT] 📗». Author Mark E. Myers



Bed of Snow

Ice cracks open to release
the frigid wind
into cracked lips
onto bare skin strips at wrist and waist

wind that despises bricks
wind that mocks the tenant farmer
bringing the smallest of snowflakes
through his poor walls
onto his bed

reminding him of his lowly state
and the dominance
of Winter


Ice Sheath

Briars bow to the master
sporting a clear coat of shame
robbed of power and defense
their daggers in a cold sheath
humbly they wait
for the return of Robins
the sound of water running in the stream


Mush

Sled dog’s bright eye reflects

the fire on the mountain

no smoke , ashes

no fuse , fuel

void of confusion and futility

white-hot, frameless mirror

cascading perfect layers of orange to yellow

there is no dross

a vivid ,virginal flame


AUGUST 15th

He paused at the old well
drawing up the coldest water
spilling it out of the dipper -onto his chest
bringing back memories of air that took his breath
January 15th


Lineman

The lineman gets his keys
the dark room is quiet
warm air blows from the vents above
the red and green lights from the office machines look like Christmas

His day is long , made longer by the North wind that never stops
Ice is forming on his moustache when he finally climbs down
He hangs up the keys and listens to the office girls complain
complain about the weather


SEASONS – AUTUMN ACCENTUATION

Gravity and Fall are in cahoots
noisy yellows and browns fall down
Winter is quiet and horizontal
Snow piles up evenly ,without a sound

Gravity and Fall are conspirators
they work with wind and rain
Spring reaches ever upward
in spite of Winter’s bane

Gravity and Fall collaborate
with frost and dimming light
Summer holds no quarter
expanding all directions all day ,all night

Gravity and Fall are friends
they shake hands with death
a frosty cobweb blows East to West
portending Summer’s last breath


Seasons -4 Haiku's [Windy Box Set]

Winter
The Winter Queen laughs
her heart is cold as the creek
The wind is her friend

Spring
Warm winds follow cold
Caution holds the gardeners hand
Blossoms will open

Summer
Is nothing hidden?
the wind hides in the green leaves
the long days will pass


Fall
Rain of bright colors
autumn flashes her brown eyes
melancholy wind


Ode to the Acorn

Fields are frosty, brown and bare
green briar and honey suckle are sparse
winter wheat has lost it strength
summer’s corn is gone

Under the oaks turkeys scratch out a dance
squirrels stop long enough to bark out a melody
deer snort in beat box rhythms
their hearts beat together
a song of salvation
Ode to the Acorn


Snowman Sundial

Sundial snowman cast his shadow
of three spheres
broken edges
that warp the time

A roborant sleet buys time
Like a gambler possessed
a sure thing
a holiday

cold ardent armor gives way
casting of f appendages
spinning out coal and carrots to the stars
all returns to the earth ,the sky


Voices in the cloud

Water speaks within the clouds
a million different stories of the last fall to earth
broken icicles in melted snow
wine and vomit
peaceful garden
plastic bottle prison
each droplet spins his yarn while the others patiently
wait their turn
when all have spoken a vote is taken
snow,sleet,rain,small hail,big hail,firey hail

only then will the cloud open
and the radar spin into infinity


Humbling sun of Winter

We had worked all day around the graveyard and in the hardwoods.
The sun was going down as we crossed the field.
My son stopped ,looking at the horizon and said,”It’s beautiful.”
We stayed long enough for the peace of the earth to rise through our boots,
the peace of the sky to enter through our eyes.
This same sun sank behind bare trees a thousand times for Indians,slaves,migrant workers and tenant farmers.
Those who came here before to mine the peace out of this earth ,this sky .


Clear and cold

In the calmness of the winter sky the vulture laments his thermals.
Wearily he beats his long wings waiting for the wind,
beneath the ribs of the sky that
roll and fade towards Alaska.
He can’t here Johnny Horton calling them home.
He is listening for the wind.


Around us
Make me a coat out of the fur the owl coughs up
with bone buttons and a feathery hood.
Then I will venture into the clear winter night
and follow my breath to the stars.

I will listen in a dark corner while
you spin and weave.
Both of us encompassed by a frozen moat of cat vomit.
Dreaming of a full moon
bridled by a snow ring.


Walk past the pine woods
Gray,green and brown rise up from the shade
to alter the view
an escalator slow fade

Depth and width are rolling, falling from the ditch
Into the brightest spot below
Where shadows break and switch


Imprint

Publication Date: 12-08-2009

All Rights Reserved

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