Winter’s Chill

Dark days they are, and nights are darker still,

and barren branches claw the feeble sun,

when autumn breathes its last in winter’s chill.

 

No more we’ll hear the cheerful songbird’s trill

now they have flown, these wintry shores to shun;

Dark days they are, and nights are darker still.

 

No more soft sundown’s balmy breezes filled

with clouds of gnats whose season now is done,

when autumn breathes its last in winter’s chill.

 

No more lethargic evenings with the thrill

of barbeques and parties, having fun;

Dark days they are, and nights are darker still.

 

No more long walks across the wooded hill,

through undergrowth where spider’s webs are spun,

when autumn breathes its last in winter’s chill.

 

The countryside will hold its breath until

with sudden spring, once more the streams will run;

Dark days they are, and nights are darker still,

when autumn breathes its last in winter’s chill.

NaPoWriMo Day 26

◄ Flea Market

Legacy ►

Comments

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Laura Taylor

Mon 29th Apr 2019 12:16

Brilliant, well done Trev. I couldn't write anything like this.

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Trevor Alexander

Sat 27th Apr 2019 16:46

Wow! Thanks. ?

<Deleted User> (21487)

Sat 27th Apr 2019 16:35

Trevor
I love every word of it, I love the chill and darkness of it - and i love it as a whole. What more can I say,

Dorothy

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Jason Bayliss

Sat 27th Apr 2019 15:55

One of my favourite forms of poetry, and really well written.
There's something about a bit of iambic pentameter that really catches the eye, I think it's centuries of resonance with Shakespeare, it just catches your eye and catches your ear.

J. x

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Trevor Alexander

Sat 27th Apr 2019 13:24

Late posting this one - was travelling yesterday. Prompt was for repetition, hence the villanelle form.

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