Nordic cloud
Nordic cloud
Dec 05, 2011

GREY WINTER

In puddles
trees walked slowly along beside me
their heads low in the grey winter morning,
no breeze stirred,
no shiver of light.

A bland white glow from the dawn
reflected my eye, its tear,
that softly slid down my cheek to my mouth,
sustenance to trembling lips
drawn and sad.

Withered leaves hung limp,
flowers shrivelled and pale,
grasses bleached straws,
the flight of a black crow
aimlessly flapping.

The distant sound of a curlew,
cries on the hills
a sudden sharp searing screech
from a machine.

A broken instrument
hollowed and cracked
awaiting the blast of storms;
dark nights and driving clouds
across the moon,
obliterating the sun.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Always the dull heavy grey weather affects my brain. I am not sad. Ann.

Style/Type: Free verse

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Oslo and Flatdal, Norway., NOR

Favorite Poets: Too daunting this.

More from this author

Comments

S

Very descriptive of both surroundings and state of mind...................stan

Eduardo Cruz

The feel of the winter is conveyed here with great care as if almost a cold death reach out to embrace ones soul.
This was sort of dark from you, but I guess that winter has it's place in the universe so as to remind us of the warmth of spring. It is only at the next bend waiting for us.

Eddie

Nordic cloud

Thank you all, Eddie, Winter has this feel you here describe so well, a sadness in the colours and the hanging dead leaves that still cling to their twigs and straws, a brittle delicacy, as if they would become nothing at the slightest touch. But then when the sun shines on the lumps of snow on their seed pods they can be laughed at for looking so cocky.

Just today there was a red plastic sack and a wound blue tubing, they looked like two people the tall blue one upright, a bit like a Christ with his robe, and the bent little red one a bit like a dwarfed Santa; when I came close they were just objects, but they caused an exciting imagined pair.

So humour is just round the corner in our minds!

Ann

Candlewitch

Thank you for a glimpse of part your world. I loved the somber imagery and these lines:
A broken instrument
hollowed and cracked
awaiting the blast of storms;
dark nights and driving clouds
across the moon,
obliterating the sun.

have no fear, sweet Ann, spring will always come.

always, Cat

Nordic cloud

I have no fear, in fact the sombre and subtle colours
of Winter's moods interests and fascinates me,

I would not wish myself where the sun shines all the time,
and the trees stay dressed as they do in parts of Australia.

My aunt went into raptures on seeing the bare trees once again,
having married an Australian (conductor) and lived there most of her life.

Perhaps the changes of season also help us to change
and renew ourselves, and our poetry to do likewise.

Ann.