Winter

Am I but the stirring of a seasoned stew The madness of a game that summer threw Hard edge of a canyon wall at dawn Towering above a trembling, speckled fawn Must I be a raging lion or timid lamb Contending for the prize of also ran As I must outduel Winter’s feigned chagrin Until it screams OK, all right, you win So bear with me and kiss me as I go And take with me the curse of bearded snow

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Paul Willason

Date: 3/14/2024 2:31:00 AM

Exceptional skill in weaving this poem together. One to savor and sip every line . Take a bow for originaility John. Regards, Paul

Ink Empress

Date: 3/13/2024 10:25:00 AM

Flawless list poem, i love how your lines flow seamlessly. The last lines are brilliant ah! So well woven and so well delivered. Pleasure reading this dear john

Hilda Greenhough

Date: 3/13/2024 10:08:00 AM

A good list. I've rarely heard the term "summer hardship".

Lin Lane

Date: 3/13/2024 7:59:00 AM

I always loved Winter's first snow, but after that it was just dirty sludge that in the shade seemed to be an eternal mess. There's no prize in being an also ran, so roar like a lion, or be as gentle as a lamb if you desire. Winter doesn't give a fig what we think. I'll sharpen your sword if you think it'll help. Good lines, John.

John Lawless
Date: 3/16/2024 5:40:00 AM

kinda like the wild parties of youth....that left you with the gray dawn of a hangover.