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Three Winter poems

20th December 2012.


Hills delicately touched
with seeping light of morning
dawning in the east,
they lie like icing on the cake of day,
the heavens tinted pink and grey,
pale blue a back-cloth
peeping through the haze,
the temperature ten degrees of frost,
a buzz of traffic dully reaches us
through silent roofs and trees,
the trees,
like statues of themselves,
there is no breeze.


Tinted pink and tinkling white,
with shell-like beauty
porcelain light,
transparent sky of winter's dawn,
flushes the heavens with its bloom,
like petals of the sweetest rose,
or lotus throat,
gives sound,
a song of mornings fresh new air,
that gently touches ground and tree,
and reaches to eternity.


Rumbling traffic, rising sounds
as day dawns over the town,
rooks and crows their croaks and chacks,
sneeze and blow of nose,
creak of bones when stretched,
rustle of the paper landing on the doormat,
shuffle of the slippers on the old wooden floor,
shutting of the sqeaking bathroom door,
flushing of the toilet, shower its rain,
and then
the whistle of the tea kettle's heard again.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
The pink when it turned so was iridescent like Day-Glo! Unbelievable. How the view changes every day.
Editing stage: 


just beautiful, loved x

Thank you loved x,
I wanted to send the excitement i felt at seeing the view yesterday it was you see.

Love Ann of Norway.

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

author comment

That you can feel and see so much in those things, it would be so lovely if others could see them, there would be less strife in the world,
Yours Ian

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

I find myself agreeing with you Ian,
just so then even the darkest day would have its "silver lining."
And it IS the darkest day of the year, is it not? Today,
the light has faded before 3 pm. but then we are in the arctic,
almost. The snow looks like a white blanket, warm-even though
I know it is not!!

lets drink to less strife i the world anyway, this Christmas,
as we lift our glasses, whatever is in them, and say that,
that is in the right spirit of the season.

Takk Ian, 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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