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No familiar horizon.

No Sun to acknowledge.

No blue, for clouds to saunter across.


Sky and land,have merged,

into a single,unwelcome,

frozen,white shape.


This old man of season's morning,

brimming my sight

with a grieving sense of closure,

glare's at me,cruelly,beautifully,

with glittering glint's of dominance.


How bitterly,we oppose each other!


And,much,must I try

to eradicate him from my thoughts

using the foolishness of a foul tongue,

heavily laden,with profaneness


Although the attempt,

to shun his unstoppable rhetoric

of falling temperature's is futile,

I am warmed,by the value

of trusted reliance's on

the resurrected child of Spring,

coming wilfully,spritely,to prepare

a youthful green stage,for the golden player's of Summer.


Until their hazey shimmering's air dance once more,

I remain,chillingly burdened.


For,who am I ,in my smallness

pointlessly seeking,to rid the present,

of this year ending,iced majority?


O! that pathetic aggravating gesture!

twould be less than a mere pinpoint,

of annoying insignificance

against the supremacy

of so gigantesque,a misery! 

◄ Preparing resolutions

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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Wed 31st Dec 2014 17:38

The best 'Winter'poem we've read in a long time!
absolutely brill!xx

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