John Lawless Poet Rhyme

Cold Comfort

Cold Comfort


And so the ducks of season – fled
left me standing – holding bread
as leaves – fresh fallen - drifted by
the tears of trees that couldn’t cry.

The muskrats weave their mounds of reeds
while squirrel and chipmunk search for seeds
preparing for long winter’s nap
cold fingered tree - withdrawing sap.

Coyote’s yip and wolves low growl
soon to turn to hunger’s howl
baying at the harvest moon
reflecting only cold - at noon.

As the crust of captive bread submerges
I bow to instinct driven urges.


John G. Lawless
8/24/2014

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Poet Destroyer A September 5, 2014 at 10:14 PM John, :) Congratulations, on your awesome win. Many, many thanks for supporting my contest. Stop by and enjoy my newest blog, "Thoughts." if you'd like. Good night, LUV ~LINDA~

Andrea Dietrich August 25, 2014 at 5:23 PM cool poem and the title you gave it too. I noticed it has a sonnet's meter most of the way through it and that ending couplet. If you had alternated the rhyme, this would have made a splendid English sonnet. John Lawless August 25, 2014 at 6:34 PM Andrea, the English and the Irish have failed to agree on sooooo many things, including the proper lilt of the rhyme. Ever notice that everyone else has an accent but the Irish have a "Brogue"? Thanks for checking this out and for you insightful eval, always appreciated.