Category Poetry

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!

The Jester

freyathewriter 27 Comments

he’s no fool

observing courtiers drool

praising a monarch

most embarrassingly naked 

‘Your Majesty’s suit is the best in the land!’

the jester

jumps, somersaults, springs 

crooning his undeniable truth

couched in curtseys

and simpering smiles

“Off with their heads!’

the courtiers are dead

It’s been a long, long time since I entered the dVerse poetry community pub, because life is a thing and my memory banks became overloaded. But, I’ve found my way back, without using a map!

I’m happy to have found my way back and take part in the Quadrille at dVerse, hosted by De. The word we should use in this 44 word poem is ‘jump’, or a variation of it.

I hope you enjoy my variation on the fairytale The Emperor’s New Clothes!

dVerse Poetics – Blessed

freyathewriter 25 Comments

Image – author’s own

We didn’t know we didn’t want it
Until we’d passed it all around
We didn’t know how to stop it
So many six feet under ground

Our homes they began to empty
Some tried to run far away
The brave ones locked the village down 
Others fell to their knees to pray

The vicar held services in the fields
The church was locked up tight
Still the sickness danced in the air
Giving us death deep in the night

We saw not a soul in fourteen months
Our dead in our gardens now rest
The streets have been emptied of laughter and joy
But we are alive, so we must be blessed

*****

Tonight over on dVerse, Merril is our genial host and has asked to write on the theme of giving. I learned a new thing, that the Tuesday after US Thanksgiving is known as Giving Tuesday when people often donate to charitable organisations and non-profits.

Now… true to type, I have at first sight opted for the giving, or passing around, of something unpleasant – disease. My poem is inspired by the village of Eyam in Derbyshire which was infected by the Great Plague in 1665, after a parcel of infected cloth was delivered from London to the village tailor. Under the leadership of the rector, Reverend William Mompesson and his predecessor, Reverend Thomas Stanley, the village took measures to prevent the plague spreading to the surrounding area and also to limit, where possible, spread of disease within the village.

Of the 800 people living in the village, 260 died. If it hadn’t been for the brave actions the community took, the surrounding areas could have been at least as badly affected as Eyam. This is the real gift behind my poem.

The photo above is a window in the village church, telling the story of Eyam and the Great Plague. If you wold like to know more, please check out the village website here.

If you would like to read more poems on the theme of giving, please hop over to dVerse and enjoy! You could also take part if the mood strikes you!