December
December
begins dark, ends black
mistletoe rituals barren
plastic berries hang above
moonlit passionless mouths
without words
ring out the bells,
bring out your dead
hearts stopped, enclosed in
holly red wreaths mocking
endless grief.
.
Comments
<Deleted User> (10123)
Mon 21st Jan 2013 05:47
I gather thou doest like not the December of joy and happiness. 'begins dark, ends black' Grief's not endless, although, there is plenty to go round. Tight and engaging, ta muchly,
Well if this ever came to the top of the blogs I must have somehow missed it.
I'd agree with Laura's take on the poem. It carries all the weight of snow bearing down on the world. The bareness adds to its effectiveness. There is nothing to counteract this kind of mood - it just has to be lived through.
It's a good poem - bleak, but so well expressed.
thanks Laura , of course I am now about to edit it , my fault for almost writing straight onto wol and then having another look. So I apologise if this makes it reappear at the top of the blogs as i think it sometimes does since things were changed here
A dark and pregnant poem this, carrying the weight of winter, with its bleak and cold blanket, which can sometimes feel oppressive. There's also an underlying grief here...
I like it Shoeless - nicely succinct, with a 'bare' feeling about it
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Laura Taylor
Wed 23rd Jan 2013 11:35
I can't remember how the original went now but this, from my vague memory of it, seems to flow much smoother