Tag Archives: snow

Mytwosentences 97

Reblogged with kind permission.

Mytwosentences

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Urgency ushers itself upon us when the choking embers of camplight give way to the disorienting, dilating dusk within the woodlands.
Faint echoes amidst this forested twilight imminently become the crunchy, gelid compression of nearby footsteps that taint the sterility of fresh fallen snow.
(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

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Flurries

Poetry for Peace and Justice

It’s not the falling flakes that halt me
but the quick gust that kicks them,
not tenacity of brown leaves clinging to the branch
but how the white shawl settles there,

not blackness bleeding on the porous page of the world
but the sponge of light that catches it,
not the hard, slick ground
but its gradual softening

so my every step leaves
an imprint that will only
last so long.Image

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Snow, by Louis MacNeice

In the Dark

I’ve posted this before, but it seems appropriate to post it again today…

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes–
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of your hands–
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

by Louis MacNeice (1907-1963).

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WINTERFELLED

Reblogged with kind permission.

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1 SIGFRIDSSON

(Letting your nightsnow glimmer,

calming the storm while ice snare branches)

 

And it is winterstill

 

in sprucewhisper above fleetingly singing ices,

in thousands of frozen tarns inside forest glades

 

Winterfelled,

rime grabs hold of the branchery

like we hear our groaning steps silenced

 

Listen.

 

Be quiet now, snowfall,

 

here, beside the spruce, the winterbird eats for its life

while Death want to say something about the sorrows

 

― I was the one born unto snow in a permanent thaw,

one the world skyembraced instrewn splintered answers

and left me to be remained, long lasting as tender snow,

one so aloned, leaving all my sorrow over wrong graves

 

In tears taking the dead heart in front of the sick

 

The last sight endearing land of blood and stones

and squint over this too thin-sown beauty

frosty nights caught frozen in shined darkness

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Far from the couch

Reblogged with kind permission.

views from a.wildman

I’ve been recovering from a torn ACL and today was a big day for me.  I made it down my front steps from my porch to the sidewalk.  I went down all seven steps.  Made my way back up them too.  Funny, spending so much time just sitting.  Makes me think of being out on a trip… that last hour in the day… you’re not at camp and you know before any slowing down you still have a few miles to go.  Camp will feel so good.  Just to sit. It would be amazing.  Yet you can’t; you are not at camp and you are not on a couch.

My story starts very far from my couch, very far from any couch.  We were at mile 22 of our 24-mile push.  Dark and cold—it was about ten at night and the thermometer only read a few degrees above zero.   The…

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Shed

Reblogged with kind permission of A Wild Man fortyonethirty

views from a.wildman

The twilight of sky, moon, and snow

Whirling spindrifts of snow glisten with specks of light

Breath the cold air, let it fill your lungs

Protect your body from the elements, free your mind.

This is real, genuine, true.

Heart pounds, pounds, pounds

Push the blood, push the mind

The deeper I go into the mountains,

The deeper I go into myself

Notchs on a mental benchmark

A notch for every layer I shed

Trying to pure myself, find myself.

Looking for the spot where sky meets land.

Higher I climb, higher I climb.

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