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Something about January
Broods my blood to slush.
A new year's unknowns
Hearkens hope to hush.

It's a dark visage that stuns,
Heritage of Januarys past.
Death calls my loved ones
With winter's harshest blast.

It seems we're trying to cope
By saying "Happy New Year!"
Yet one must toast the hope
That a wish can fight a fear.

But I think—I'm sure I'm right
The Reaper so deathly scary
Will call me an ice-enameled night
In the cold heart of January.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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Date: 11/19/2014 7:55:00 PM
I don't like January - its my birthday month and I think a new year ... another year older lol - saying that I can't wait to see the back of this year it has been the worst in my personal life ... apart from joining poetry soup and having amazing friends all over the world:-) Hugs jan xx
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Date: 11/20/2014 3:00:00 AM
ooh its even more chilling with the winter imagery and the grim reaper Paul. We don't really celebrate New year - guess I should this year to make sure this year is well and truly behind me - but the nightmare will live on as we still have the issue of mum when dad passes - she has dementia - my worries all along have been for her - not for dad. Hugs as ever jan xx
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Paul Schneiter
Date: 11/19/2014 8:06:00 PM
Jan, thanks for visiting my poem. You are SO nice! We must be kindred spirits because, obviously, I dislike January. I'm sorry to hear you've had a bad year. 2015 just has to be better—right? (BTW, I reworked the last two stanzas, but I may have done more harm than good.)