Quotes about midwinter, page 2
Christmas To Me
The misty fog
Crept slowly in
As the crystal of frost
Climbed on my window pane
I stand outside
In the cold winter breeze
Feeling the chill
Of our first winter freeze
Will I get to see?
My first snow flake
Will I get to make
An angel in the snow
Will I get to make
A snowman with glee
I stand here pondering
What is a white Christmas?
I can't begin to fathom
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poem by Kaila George
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In the spirit of Rumi - 20
I sang to My Beloved
O My Beloved –
how could I sing of the joy
of being closer to You
than Your breath…
than Your eyes…
than Your lips…
if Sorrow had not visited me? …
In the middle of the darkest night
in the cold midwinter of the heart,
a stranger knocked upon my door:
it was Sorrow, wrapped in blackest cloak.
I greeted Sorrow; bade come in;
ate bread with Sorrow and drank wine with it;
then with a smile, sent Sorrow on its way.
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Unique Days
How I remember solstice days
Through many winters long completed!
Each unrepeatable, unique,
And each one countless times repeated.
Of all these days, these only days,
When one rejoiced in the impression
That time had stopped, there grew in years
An unforgettable succession.
Each one of them I can evoke.
The year is to midwinter moving,
The roofs are dripping, roads are soaked,
And on the ice the sun is brooding.
Then lovers hastily are drawn
To one another, vague and dreaming,
And in the heat, upon a tree
The sweating nesting-box is steaming.
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poem by Boris Pasternak
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Farewell To The Non-Thinkers
Farewell to the lesser people,
They fist their hands instead,
Ready to punch the heart,
Eager to fight the learned,
Wishing the redness of their blood
Was brighter and sweeter.
Their beautiful and comforting smiles are less,
Since it hides the inner ability to think,
Inside it is awkward and right,
Loving and polite,
Instead the freedom is theirs,
But mine for the moment.
Then I see lesser men do smaller tricks,
Like an animal with fur, and not just skin,
I see further and I want more to awake in the mind,
Just like the elephant in its size,
Like a buzz and a swift flight
Into the midwinter when it is safe from the sun.
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poem by Naveed Akram
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The Privvy.......Toilet Trolls
Twas sordid that thought
Midwinter handed a lit
Oil lamp
Glowing
Showing the way outside to the shiny black paint of
The toilet door
Lift the latch....clunk! as your eyes scoured the darkness the bushes
For bogey men, trolls and murderers
Place lamp on window sill
Put small buttocks on the winter chilled toilet seat
Heart beats at a quickened pace
As a small scared face gazes
Out
Eyes foraging the white painted walls
For spiders and daddy long legs
Anything that crawls
And flys
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Music
If I rest for a moment near The Equestrian
pausing for a liver sausage sandwich in the Mayflower Shoppe,
that angel seems to be leading the horse into Bergdorf's
and I am naked as a table cloth, my nerves humming.
Close to the fear of war and the stars which have disappeared.
I have in my hands only 35c, it's so meaningless to eat!
and gusts of water spray over the basins of leaves
like the hammers of a glass pianoforte. If I seem to you
to have lavender lips under the leaves of the world,
I must tighten my belt.
It's like a locomotive on the march, the season
of distress and clarity
and my door is open to the evenings of midwinter's
lightly falling snow over the newspapers.
Clasp me in your handkerchief like a tear, trumpet
of early afternoon! in the foggy autumn.
As they're putting up the Christmas trees on Park Avenue
I shall see my daydreams walking by with dogs in blankets,
put to some use before all those coloured lights come on!
But no more fountains and no more rain,
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poem by Frank O'Hara
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Playful Kisses Silken Caresses of Eucalyptus
Fain fondling
gentle bites
playful kisses
silken caresses of eucalyptus
sooth our ardent flesh
Every faint brush
every slow wandering touch
Emollient fingers showcase
the harp's alert and nimble precision
Head full of heat lightning
systems flooded with passion
caught in a carnal phantasmagoria
surveying the supple curvature of
your flexible figure
Columbine thighs!
Clovery Pubis!
Dainty breasts of down
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poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Protagonist
Tears had once fallen from inside
Every part of me-
A breeze rustles the barren branches on the trees
In the midwinter, here where
Fear, anger and mistrust have for so long been the enemy.
I can envision something magical about every bough upon every tree, while
The sound of the wind calms me.
I watch the branches upon the surrounding trees move about
As ballerinas dancing-
A symphony is playing inside of my mind-
Every thought transforming fear toward enchantment-
I also am dancing to the melody of the wind.
As snow begins to fall,
I can clearly see a pathway blazing before me now.
I am in union with nature as the deer running wild,
Trees scraping the sky and the uniqueness of every snowflake
Has obliterated the anguish and suddenly all that once tormented me
Has been lost behind me now as I keep stepping forward, into the
Glory of the wilderness-
My only care now is what the future holds-
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poem by Claudia Krizay
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What is It Really?
Was it your smile or your pretty face?
Thoughts of you my love I cannot seem to erase
For you my love transcend known time and space
I’m yearning your tenderness and your loving warm embrace
A life without you I could not stand at all
I am an addict now suffering from withdrawal
Take me for I submit to you ever so humbly
I need you desperately for my summers are turning wintery
You are my shining light that illuminates the night
When you are with me everything feels all right
You make the flowers grow in midwinter's snow
For anywhere you go now I shall surely follow
Is it the way you speak that makes me feel so weak?
Is it your shining hair lying across your back so sleek?
Is it the cloths you wear that make men stop and stare?
Preciouses you are to me for we are truly a pair
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poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Sailing Home From Rapallo
[February 1954]
Your nurse could only speak Italian,
but after twenty minutes I could imagine your final week,
and tears ran down my cheeks....
When I embarked from Italy with my Mother’s body,
the whole shoreline of the Golfo di Genova
was breaking into fiery flower.
The crazy yellow and azure sea-sleds
blasting like jack-hammers across
the spumante-bubbling wake of our liner,
recalled the clashing colors of my Ford.
Mother traveled first-class in the hold;
her Risorgimento black and gold casket
was like Napoleon’s at the Invalides....
While the passengers were tanning
on the Mediterranean in deck-chairs,
our family cemetery in Dunbarton
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poem by Robert Lowell
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