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LOST BLUE

The blue has seeped away now, no reds or greens to see,
the day has turned to winter's darkened grey,
the fitful gusts are those of northern winds,
the flakes, they fall just one by one apart,
the art of poetry cannot declaim their presence in the park,
each landing on the rivers edge, the stream
where dissipating they remain a dreamed reality
only a substance we assume is there its white totality,
where life of fish and frogs are hidden, never seen.

The blue that sailed the skies but yesterday has faded,
tinted by the frosts and turned to subtle shades,
with ice a frieze of shapes across the lake,
the viridian of trees still dully sullies,
as do the umbers of the trees
their trunks great organs breathing oxygen
oh turn the air into a hue again,
take up your brush tall cyprus, stir the sky
and give our colour back to save the day from black
the indigo of night is not enough.

This winter weather frozen still,
our psychic rhythms stops to fill with other thoughts
not happy, full of play, while creeping waters flow
beneath the snow, and weeds at rest prostrate
relate their sad soliloquy to stones,
their ears now blocked by icicles that drip
unending madrigals like moans,
the birds, a few, atop the pines waiting for the sun
to tell the time, to warm their feathers just in time to save
their lives from perishing, or not
oh send the blue of summer skies
we're born to fly so high and yet on wings so trembling cold,
we feel so very old and huddle near the mould of moss
the food of moose and deer.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Editing stage: 

Comments

Beautifully portrayed
SO much in the winter wonterland even when the sun
doesnt shine

Thank you fFrench, Iceland, I have never visited, but know that I would love, the wildness, the colours, the windswept wastes, so particular.

My Aunt Jean was there in the 20's learning Icelandic working on a farm, she rode bare-back out to take lunch to workers, she experienced the pull of the Winter lands, and went on to translate all the Nordic Sagas for us all.

Thank you for commenting, Love Ann of the north.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

So sorry but to me all cold countries are Iceland as I was born in the tropics!
I did visit the fjords for 48 hours in summer. beautiful. but in winter?
no thank you

Oh its especially beautiful in Winter, and as the sun touches the snow, or the northern lights light up the sky, its a spectacle that challenges the fireworks of new Year. The contrasts are so particular, the trees, dull browns in Summer, bleached, become intensely different, purple, orange, green mosses and lichens love the cold and thrive as food for the reindeer.

To stand beside a roaring log fire, in a wooden hut, then by the doorway look out at the sky so full of stars, is a paradise of privilege. And the smell of the birch log fires, as one slides like a swan on water, on ones skis past sleeping lakes, is a very particular atmosphere, perhaps with the moon lighting the way.

You have special effects too, as when the sun rises in Nairobi, everyone stops hurrying, and stands to watch it come over the horizon. Each part of the world has something wonderful to reveal, to those who watch.

Thank you anyhow, my being born in the north, means I cannot easily adapt to the heat, and vice versa for you I expect. Love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

As always your homeland there and its beauty portrayed on a winters day.
I notice our young Frenchf is wary of the cold lol, I wonder if she has ever seen a portrait painted by Jack Frost on a window pane.
Lovely write, Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Yes I remember Jack Frost's most wonderful designs,
I wouldn't have missed them, even though it meant that
Winter's cold was upon us, I used to study them in wonder.

And when one studies all elements, they grow just like this,
all the 92 that make up every single thing in the universe,
as far as we know, that is so beautiful a thought.

Thank you dear Ian love Ann

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

I am in bed with my overcoat.british Houses never warm up. Ann see what you are wearing. I never wear a hat. Maybe that's the key to keeping warm. Yes I am sure it is beautiful but trying to keep warm is so difficult

You lose 30% of your heat through your Head so wear a lovely hat and send us a picture.
We use to do Sea trials with a helicopter on the ships with the MOD.
The one thing we were told we had to buy and take with us was a woolly hat, there use to be about 10-12 blokes on the trials and we all use to try and find the funniest hat we could.
It was in case we had to take to the lifeboats, we use to go out to find storms to test the ships aerodynamics (good word for today) in all weathers the Pilots of aircraft (Helicopters) needed to know what sort of wind etc: was around where they had to land, that's another story..
SO go get yourself a good hat that keeps the heat in and you will find things a lot better, Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Hi Ann,

Wonderful winter images....I especially liked 'drip unending madrigals like moans'...the gentle assonance and rhymes crafted in a classy write. You and Esker have enormous figurative skills.

Hats off!

Ellie x

Thank you BettyBuff, your name has lovely sounds in it too,
the two B's and the colour buff, with is moth-like fluttering
quietness flitting past us here. We, Esker and I, watch nature,
towns and rubbish too, and see so much in it all,
we can never be bored.

Nature's poems are there for all to see.
Love from Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment
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