Poetry Blogs (Winter)

You say the snow is a magical thing
Coming down from the heavens like magic
Before joining up together on the ground
And Father Christmas throws it all down
Just to complete the experience

Drifting your happiness across town
Whether by car or bus
In-between two places on Christmas Day
When another downpour
Leaves the pair of us laughing

Telling each other ironically
It could only ha...

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I stepped outside and the sound of my feet made me nervous as I slowly walked along a neverending thick white floor.

The snow clung to my boots as if to find some warmth or maybe a hug.

Within minutes my hands were stiffened by the icy air that felt strong enough to slice through my stone cold fingers.

I should have wore gloves, I said to myself as I made 2 fists and buried them deep insi...

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The Winter Morning!

Ujjal Mandal, India

The winter morning sheds thick tears, 
None but the sun comes to weep 
Her tears out as a mother does when
The child cries.

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I weave daisies
Into garlands and wreaths-
Cottagecore fantasies-
Where toil appears easy,
And tempests breezy,
Where sour fruits are glazed in honey.
My fingers claw
At the garlands they birth
Till petals fall
And blend seamlessly into the dirt.

They blend seamlessly into the dirt,
Like brown tatters on the ground.
The sun's sinking into the earth,
As winter's coming around,
The wea...

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Steady beats the pulse of the sun

Wonder still leaps from its beams

Yet beneath a mask of bonhomie

That sad star is not what it seems

Watching its favourite run to waste

Hot tears escape that burning eye

Bound by nature to fry its offspring

Torch forests, put winter in the sky

What treasure this greedy satellite

Down the ages pillaged from space

Squandering ...

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2017 was the year I had 34 new poems published. It was also the year I realised 'published' did not equate with 'good' or even 'widely read'' For example, towards the end of that year I had a major success - a poem on a high-profile website. My twitter followers rocketed (though, let's be honest - this is poetry, so not by much). Two days later I had another poem out, one I was happy with but knew...

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Dead Leaves

You once grew green

On lofty branches

Defiant against the clouds

Fluttering in the breeze

But now the tree has gone

Just a pale ghost of memory

And the sky is dominant

In my front windows

Your first death was brittle

Old man skeleton scratching

Whipping up your decline

In whorls of frustration

And when the rain came

Like falling tears

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