Only A River

freyathewriter 17 Comments

Dogs howl, as is their wont. 

The cold moon rises, her blank face pierced by branches turned naked and brittle. All trees are leafless at this time of year, bark rimed with frost.

My breath hangs, shimmering in the freezing air, and the iridescent image swims through a mirror that flows like liquid silk. I frown at such misplaced fancy. It is only a river reflecting evidence of my vitality. 

A river… A chance.

The bloodhounds remain far distant yet. I brace myself against the cold and step into the freezing depths, gritting my teeth. 

I wade agains the current, skin, muscles, bones aching in protest, my greatcoat sagging, dragging heavy with water. 

Until the wretched creatures lose my scent, here I must remain. I plead, to any great benefactor who might hear my prayers, for clouds, mist, a dense fog. 

For my freedom.

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, it’s time for a bit of Prosery, courtesy of Dora. She has asked us to create a piece of prose, fiction or non-fiction, to include the following line from Stanley Kunitz’s most famous poem, King of the River:

“. . . and the iridescent image swims
through a mirror that flows.”

I haven’t written a Prosery for some time, so this is a fun diversion from my usual poetic adventures. it must consist of maximum 144 words, and while the line can include different punctuation, it cannot be otherwise changed. I truly enjoyed incorporating this line into my fiction piece, and I hope it fits well into my narrator’s thoughts.

If you want to join us in this poetry adjacent journey, head on over to dVerse and dive in!

(Image courtesy of Muhammed Zeya on Pexels).

Vicious and Kind

freyathewriter 18 Comments 
We are vicious and kind
pendulum-swinging between
one          and the          other
over coffee and cereals
in expectation of bills we can’t pay
and no windfall from a lottery we never took part in

It won’t be too long before one of us walks out
leaving our keys in the dish on the hall table
not going for good
but just because working for the corporation
and the wished-for weight of external expectation
is, in that moment
more meaningful than launching a lifeboat
to rescue our foundering relation-ship

and thank god, it gets us out of each other’s way
healing the bruises
for one more day
for now

I might get a bonus
so I can pay the locksmith to break into the house again
you made me forget my keys
and where the hell were you last night anyway?

And so we rattle on
marking time until we couldn’t care less
numbed by indifference and backs turned at night
blinking at that last box of books we can’t care to fight over
one of us walking through rooms
echoing with apathy
wondering how it all went wrong

I stand at the door
waving like I always did
but you drive away
not looking back
you don’t remember our old routine
or choose not to repeat it anymore
and that’s it

The end.

It’s Open Link Night over at the dVerse Poets Pub, which means we can either share a poet of our choice, or be inspired by the optional mini-prompt. I chose to share a poem I wrote some time ago, accompanied by this image of a screaming baby bird, which is part of a large painting I created, also some time ago.

As they say, the past is another country,

Please do join us over at dVerse if you love writing and reading poetry. It’s a lovely community and the hosts will give you a warm welcome.

Obsidian Nights

freyathewriter 22 Comments 
wave your chill sceptre
Queen December
blow snowflake kisses
from your lips tinged blue 
beckon the jester
to do your will
as he skates on thin ice
dancing with glacial glee
twirling, skirling 
his frost-rimed mirth
bestowing fairy dust
bejewelling all
with tinkling laughter
and a wicked arctic glare

the January King
rises to his queen’s challenge
commanding freezing fog 
lurking in valleys
stunning streams into silence
babbling brooks made mute
meandering mists muffle
icicles spear the air
dagger-sharp
dangling from branches
scintillating in sunlight
skewering the shadows 
until they surrender
s--h--a--t--t--e--r--i--n--g
to smithereens

Winter emits a chilling sigh 
frost fairies dance in the sparkling light
a hint, a tracing, an ethereal lacing
of spiderweb chandeliers
swaying
as robins flit
from branch to icing sugar branch
the holly bush shivering 
its crown of thorns
bejewelled with blood berries
encrusted with crystal halos
glistening

the Frost Queen and Ice King
make all this so
as obsidian nights shimmer
and the Wolf Moon howls
reflected in glass-topped lakes
sliding and shivering
quivering
spectral stars pierce the sky 
celestial bodies tremble and twinkle
as we lock all doors
snapping them shut
our breath misting windows
warm duelling with chill
in an involuntary, gasping protest 
against Jack Frost’s
impromptu ingress

Hot on the heels of Quadrille Monday, over at dVerse Poets Pub, today is dVerse Poetics day, where Lisa invites us to write poetry of any sort, inspired by the weather.

I am truly fed up of the drought we’re having, the high temperatures day and night, the wildfires – everything to do with this long, parched summer. It worries me greatly. So, I decided to take comfort from the thought of colder, more refreshing weather and imagine the joy of folk tales, fairy tales, nursery rhymes and similar.

I hope you enjoy it, and, if you feel inspired to take part, do please join us. Head on over to Lisa’s post (linked above) follow the steps to share your poem, join us and read some other lovely poems as well!