Welcome to my ----- life
A beautiful broken aura
The sound of yesterday
Shattered winter glass
Transcend to the unconscious mind
Frozen, dead, yet alive
Hell, escapes my future of eternal suffering
Tiny buttons of snow -fall to my feet
Firewood burns endlessly,
The hairs of her soft skin rise like wheat
Shadows by hand flip the hourglass
The possibility of change takes --- need
She stands on the outside of my dreams
Quietly she summons the cold legion
Confused, trying to cleanse her soul
She wipes off old fingerprints
White glitter, forgotten notes
Spiritual spells enhanced in a quiet villa
Shadows of hands toss the glow
Daydreaming inside another dream
Falling flakes in hopes of peace
A warm bedded cabin sits at ease
Observing, breathing, mind settling
Swirling into an earthy feel
Another long downward drift
Shadows of hands set the tide
She awakens, sharing the stars
She mocks the sun, her eyes sparkle
Covered in snow - aging peacefully
She fibers to soothe her soul
She reeks, neither heaven nor hell
Temporary punishment, rattling thoughts
Captured in a transparent globe
Passing through a purgatory world
No walls, no in between
Falling far from the echoes of life
Sacrificed by death before salvation
Transcending to the unconscious mind
Shattered winter glass
The sound of yesterday
A beautiful broken aura
Depart from my ----- life
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
Snow falls softly late one night
In the darkness it does bask
I dread the job tomorrow
Shoveling will be my task
Beauty is in the eyes of the viewer
I see nothing but giant flakes of work
The trees all have snow on this first shower
Dreading the day of a job using torque
The pathways are snowed over
All with a reflective white
I want to get to bed soon
For I know tomorrow’s plight
I’m mesmerized by the beautiful scene
Not a thing is without some wondrous snow
Even though I sure do dread the next day
I will put on a great, wonderful show
This time of year affects me
Seems to rub off some great cheer
I will find a way to smile
Though there’s snow up to my rear
Form Quatrain-1st, 3rd, 5th stanzas have 7 syllables, 2nd, 4th stanzas have 10 syllables
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2012
Cool winds turn cold as the winds stir from the north
The sun, the life giving star, heats the tropics so far to the south
Its warmth a distant memory to the lands that it deserted
Long forgotten greens of summer turn into the color of a raging fire
The fire dies and leafs that lived in the summer sun die and fall to the ground
The white silky clouds turn black and heavy carrying moisture from the open waters
The mighty lakes of the north turn violent under the fading yellow sun
Fighting the winds and the certainty of the fingers of the north freezing them
Rain turns to ice storm and them into the snow that children love
Mother Nature makes her changes as the speed of life slows
Baby animals, now grown, leave their family to explore their new world
Some settle down for a sleep that will protect for the three months of bitter cold
Others travel to the lands of their ancestors where the climate never changes
No one tells them to make such a journey
It is just the cycle of life that protects them and their young
But all the ice, the snow and the suffering will end
For it is November and November is a month of change
The changes will last until the spring when live starts anew
The ice and snow will melt and food will be plentiful
Green with once again color the trees, grass and shrubs
The animals who were babies in the fall return with babies of their own
The lakes thaw and calm in the spring’s gentle breezes
Life will return to normal at least until the winds of November return
But, at least for now, that is a world away in another time
And it is no longer remembered
Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2011
She is shadowed by fuzzy cobwebs of a morning without coffee,
while dust motes mingle with the mold of time.
Gazing out to the yard, through dingy glass, and fog,
into a dismal January, she hopes to catch a glimpse of the paper boy.
He travels through rain, sleet or snow, how could he understand,
(this teen-aged Paul Revere), that in this decrepit old house,
she is longing for a sign of youth? It has been a weary night, watching an old woman hang on by threads of life, that had worn thin years ago.
Watching and waiting, while cold winds blew and snow was falling,
and death was hoping to make a house call.
Any diversion, life being lived,... one brief eclipse of life in motion would be a relief.
To observe him toss the news into the sky like a Frisbee... not a care in the world
How would that feel...has she ever known? Has anyone ever been so young?
She thinks she may go mad with death and dying, with weariness, with waiting.
She suddenly shivers from a dreaded draft of frigid air, slithering in,
like a sneaky, uninvited ghost, slinking in around the rim.
nor'easter winds roll top shoe box...
splinter the silence.. -- debutante' caught in amber
a cataract view frozen sepia
Grabbing a handful of a thread-bare doily, she polishes the cold glass,
rubbing vigorously in circles against the grime,
making figure eights, in spite of frozen, stiff, fingers.
Satisfied, that she has a decent view of the blanketed yard,
and can see clearly where the muddy, gravel driveway,
bends gradually, curving to mate with the snow banked road,
at last, she spies the old Jeep coming, and watches with automated eyes,
yet, with some expectation, and strange excitement.
Then, as she might have guessed,
the teenager drives hurriedly by, barely slowing down, tossing the news,
and leaving her gaze and her thoughts, splattered by dark murky water,
while the slinging gravel that has been pitched into the sky, by his screeching tires,
falls like the pieces of the old woman's lonely life upon the pristine snow.
For Deb's Contest: "Mix It Up"
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
Snow sprinkles the ground
as delicate as sugar
crystallizing the exterior with a romantic heritage
only found in the heart of a child's imagination.
Like happiness it can melt in your hands,
and like happiness it can grow bitter like the ice you slip on
Forming miraculously to the curves of the earth
hugging till the land soaks in it's providence
white like the pages I battle with
Falling so passionately you'd think it was falling in love with the ground
And when it lands,
A blanket of perfection
glistening the season to a crisp
gently the sun arises
"there's no where to go today,
I'm just going to sit and enjoy the magic."
Copyright © Madison Caldwell | Year Posted 2013
A beach without any water is a desert
Nachos without any cheese is a chip
A ski slope without any snow is a hillside
Me without you is no relationship
A zebra without any stripes is a donkey
A fountain without spray is a statue
Valentines Day without a lover is a bummer
And that’s exactly how I feel without you
Please be the water for my desert
Please be the cheese upon my chip
Please be the snow on my hillside
Please be in my relationship
Please be the stripes on my donkey
Please be the spray for my statue
Please be my lover every single day
Please never let me be without you
(NOTE: This poem was inspired by my 6 year old son. We are going to the beach this week-
end and he asked me, “Will there be water near the beach?” That gave birth to the first line
of this poem, which started my thoughts in motion.)
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010
There is nothing with so much life as a Christmas snow
The crisp air is still as little dancing stars float to the earth
Strong old trees become burdened with drifts of white upon their bows
But seem honored to be dressed in such finery and appear almost to move
In fact, everything has come to life to watch the snowfall.
Then everything is quiet
There is a whisper in the air
It ripples through the trees
See the birds, they are the first to recognize the whisper
As the Masters of Chorus, the birds know it is a song
They sit as true musicians memorizing the lyrics and rhythm
So, the snow speaks, the voice is old, like it has sung this song many times
As the squirrels could tell you this is a lullaby, and they begin to search from their
perches in the trees for the newborn
And life and love has never felt as strong as now
A horse in its pastures stomps his foot disturbed
Though he hears the song the birds do and the lullaby the squirrels hear, he,
along with all of the worlds creatures, could swear he just heard a cry
The squirrels chatter with laughter, knowing they where right and the birds take
up the snow-song to welcome the child they heard cry
And then they stop and the world is silent
The snow has stopped falling
The cry was only a memory from Christmas long past
The child, a child of time whose
Voice comes with the Christmas snows,
To give every soul the chance to hear
The song of joy and love and beginning,
So it is never forgotten;
The song of the Christmas Snow
Copyright © misty hunter | Year Posted 2007
Contn'd from Pg 1
So she called out to the stranger and asked for a ride
Snow had fallen heavily and already piled three feet high
When she climbed into the four-wheel truck never giving it another thought
Before he headed down the highway, he went into a crowded bar
Intuition nudged her, ‘get out now, turn back!’ But pride urged her, 'stay'
He returned with a brown bag; appearing harmless as he turned to her
‘Say, you’re trembling!’ He said and flashed a breathless smile
‘Here, have a slug, of this, it’ll warm you up, pretty girl!’
Hesitation loomed for a minute then she accepted the bag from his hand
Young Rachel, was now treading a path beyond thin, cracking ice
As tears stung her beautiful eyes, she'd never had a drink this strong
How her vacant tummy rebelled against the searing burn
Nausea arose from deep within, and she began to have regrets
Registering strong protest, her regurgitation would later accuse her killer
Her faith was sealed as there were no open doors left for escape
And before she realized he had made a reckless wide left turn
Down the snow covered dirt path through tall pines and fir
No longer were there sightings of sparsely lit farm houses
Interspersed along the desolate, picturesque landscape
The four-wheeler tackled with ease, snow drifts of fresh fallen snow
Where the following spring young Rachel's body would be discovered
That night Rachel laid buried under a few feet of snow
She was at rest now to awaken to eternity in sunny fields
Beautiful as daisies growing in heaven, carefree and endlessly in bloom!
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2011
Segun my child! My son!
Soon, the cock will crow at dawn
And the east will showcase the sun
Soon, you will leave my home,
To found your own
With words of wisdom, you won’t be alone.
Like a mini-skirt, advice is too short
But it covers the body’s vital lot.
Your brother is not your friend,
He is another you, but independent
So your love for one another, allow no dent
For the sons of men…
Every journey far destination brings
Nature presents a transport means
The snow has the snow dogs
The desert has the camels
The long distant road has the horse
Even technology came to aid us
For the road, we have the cars
For the seas and ocean, the ship
For the rail, the train
The sky has the airplane
All, to lead us through our destiny lane
That is it with man’s life and the battle in it
For whatever fate comes to us, so be it
As the future hungers like a wild beast
Likewise on it, your eyes be firmly fixed
Take a deep breath my child, and learn this
Every master was once an apprentice
Be it the prophets or the dentists
Fate is most times very unfair
Be not defeated by the things you saw
For life is more like war
And all is fair in love and war.
But whatever life’s battle you face
Nature will surely with remedy surface.
When you fall or fail
Don’t ceaselessly wail
Inhale…count to ten, and then exhale
Turn stumbling block to stepping stone,
So the builders reject, will be chief cornerstone
Two Demi-gods are on man’s destiny entrance
Their names, Consistency and Perseverance
Segun, to them, you must bow
No matter what, no matter how
On their feet, bring your head down
I know my son, I know,
That adventure is the blood of the youths
But by rushing the moment, the petals are bruised
So, calmly assimilate my child, calm study
For so, Apostle Paul admonished Timothy
Never be the first to hate
But to forgive, be the first and be in haste
My son, all humans can’t love you
If they all do, then they want to kill you
Likewise, all humans can’t hate you
If they all do, then they want the best for you
What people suffer to get, yet you so easily get
That you must never despise
For it is your miracle in disguise
For the sons of men,
Me, myself and I comes first
Don’t follow that context
If you find the opportunity to rule
My son, take the alternative to lead
For where rulers doom, leaders bloom
When fortune knocks on your door,
Be quick to offer him a sit
Use your wisdom and condor
To keep him and give him no exit
Copyright © Isioma Esemene | Year Posted 2011
Hindered by depth and breadth of winter
Blocked doors and windows on the cabin cliff remote
Imprisoned by three feet of snow and all those inches
Piling up outside, no where to go
Pines cling to memory of icicles below the tundra line
Like all good trees they freeze but never die
Over sleeping kept me from hunting deer
The realization of how quickly drifts can rise
Shear numbers of snow flakes conspiring
Cruel nature with wind and sky to hold me in
Now stuck inside the simple shelter fixed
Riffle and ammo sitting useless by the common fire place
No chasing prey this season, no reason to shoot the snow
It would only blow around and settle somewhere else
Winter bound, oats are my only sustenance, companion
Along with tea and lemon, not exactly the best of company
But will see me through, till things turn about
Closed in times advance
I become a captive audience of one
The only show in town watched now in wonder
On snowy mountain counting down the hours
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2016
Middle of winter
When the snow falls frequently
Earth opens its arms lovingly
Snow lands on the ground
Leaving cloth like covering
Over the smooth flowing bed
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2011
Seed frozen in cloud
forms head, wings, limbs, in spiral.
Fly angel snowflake!
for Skat's Snow Haiku Contest Due Dec 27, 2010
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2010
I can feel the frigid air bite my lungs
as my shallow breaths try in vain to
soothe and stop the burning pain.
Each struggling footfall could be my last,
yet the mountain taunts me to keep onward.
The snow has consumed my crampon booted feet
with numbness as trembling loins beg my brain for rest.
Heartbeats match the pounding in my head.
I just can’t stop now when so near the summit.
Blinding snow begins to fall as I leave my two
closest friends behind on the promontory.
They plead with me to turn back with them.
All sensibilities have vanished into the whiteness.
“As I feel the snow fly, I will conquer or die”.
Let these words be my epitaph I call to them,
should the mountain claim my sorry soul.
August 10, 2014
For Charlotte Puddifoot's
Dark Poetry Contest
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014
Summer sunshine in her hair
The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s promise buried there
Hints of Spring therein lies
The Autumn moon in her eyes
Winter’s snow upon her skin
The seeds of Spring wait to rise
To field the Summer once again
Winter’s snow upon her skin
Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s vow to come again
Until Autumn takes its place
Spring flowers to grace her face
Summer’s sunshine in her hair
Autumn hints leave bare a trace
That Winter’s cold will follow there
Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010
Geometric flake comes down from the sky
Hexagon center, six lines don’t deny
Extended arms going outwards from there
Small pieces going beyond without fear
I grab this lone snowflake for its safety
Though it was so pristine, then I did see
This very flake has melted to water
Due to the heat of my hand that’s hotter
I become saddened that this has happened
I loved seeing this masterpiece pattern
I weep for the short life of this cool flake
I hope to see its brothers, for my sake
Just then I looked around, guess what I saw
Millions of snowflakes falling, I’m in awe
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2014
Soft snow beckoning,
Falling with deceptive lade,
collapsing my soul.
Copyright © Judith Angell Meyer | Year Posted 2008
AND SO THE SNOW
And so the snow
Continues to blow
It's driving force
The hills, once brown with sand
Took on a new face today
White until the barest rocks
Almost did not exhist
Then the sun did come out
The temp twenty at it's height
Nothing happened all was still
The mountain cold and white
Ten days went by, the Holidays passed
All was beautyful to behold
Ten inches of snow but it took help
Before I got to go
My readings done
My groceries bought
I breathed a sigh
And went back home
That night on the TV
The weather man did grin
Ducked his head, cleared his throat
And then he did begin
"An arctic front is coming in
Lots of snow and dangerous wind"
And so I ordered more propane, gritted my teeth
"Here we go again"
The build up of snow like last time
This time never came
The snow did come but before it built
The wind had then stepped in
The number of inches was hard to guess
But the drifts began to grow,
I watched the ghosts swirl and sway
And dance among the rocks all day
Day one, day two, the beginning of three
The sun does have a scheen
And as like the day before
It's the wind predicts the scene
As the sun begins to think of rest
It high lights the bare ridges
And the shadows of the drifts
Has not the ghosts hidden
I went to Church today
And had ease of mind
I no longer feared the ice and snow
I just sprinkled salt where I wanted to go
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2010
earth blanket enhancive
holiday cheer enhancement
bountiful abundant store
spring water release
For: **SN*O*W** HAIKU
Sponsored by *SKAT*
Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2010
Some woodland creature
Passed this way not long ago
Footprints in the snow
A sign that life still goes on
In this silent winter world
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2015
WONDERLAND OF SNOW
White powdery wisps
Instead of the morning dew...
* * *
Walking past the park
Wings made with childlike passion
* * *
SNOW SNOW SNOW
Falling from gray clouds above
Catch one on your tongue
* * *
White covers the ground
Trouble starting the blower
* * *
Chilled air on glass
Panes painted with icy hues
Scenes from Jack's palette.
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010
Sky greyed with sudden snow, cars slithered serpentine roads -
a screech-slide of tyres on obsidian ice. Traffic slowed;
indicators blinking against the driving white squall,
engines' hot oiled throats throttled to standstill.
Bitter winds whipped us raw; ice shrapnel's rip and tear
piercing our lungs. Snatching gasps of spiked air,
our stung skin numb from the blizzard's bite.
Tempestuous snow smothered hematite night;
gusting and mounding, turning black to white.
By dawn, drifts dazzled with diamante light;
air was achromatic, blanketed fields blanked,
hills bleached to silence; the landscape blanched.
Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2011
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013
The snow drifts to the ground
soft as babies breath
talcing the bottom of the farmer field.
The bows of barren maples brace
for the downy white.
Heat held in the asphalt
melts the first dusting,
its ashen countenance blanching, sullen
as the temperature plummets
cranky in the slush.
The snow laces the still air
edging the scrub brush
like baptismal lace on an infants gown.
A cradle cap for the bitter sweet
snow white and rose red.
Shush, the dawn traffic says
mother and child abed
Engines purr warmed and primed for morning.
Scrapers clear glass lens of light snow
the farm awakens.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012
I longed for love—love pure like driven snow,
untouched and virgin—in the years to come:
but years did come and go until (O woe!)
it, like the fall, decayed in my autumn.
Heartbroken, never I a princess met
or maiden girl with whom to spend long nights
of ardent love. (Alas! best to forget
my heart's too foolish hopes of its delights.)
Unstained by sin, naïve and innocent;
unspoil'd by life and vice in the very least:
I cast'd aside my youth's prurient bent,
forswore my loins' lusts and was my own priest!
Now aged and useless, I've denied all love;
thus life's reproach abides and won't approve.
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014
origami dreams -
snowflakes of the past back home -
wish I were with you...
for SKAT's Haiku contest
Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2010
All I remember is going into the garage to get the snow shovel.
I am not even sure how much of the driveway I managed to shovel. Apparently, I was lying in the snow for several hours before one of the neighbors noticed me.
The next thing I remember is waking up from a deep sleep to the sounds of beeping machines with tubes and wires stuck into and on my body.
As I slowly regained consciousness and my eyes were able to focus, I was aware of a young, bald child looking down on me.
“Hi,” said the smiling, angelic face. Given the child’s age and complete baldness, I could not tell whether they were a boy or a girl. And, with the tube inserted in my throat and taped to my mouth, I was in no position to return their salutation.
I tried to remember who this child might be and why they were here with me. I guess my eyes displayed my confusion as the child said, “I'm Elizabeth. They let me walk around the hospital a little. Sometimes I sneak out of the oncology wing and look for people who have no visitors. I like to make sure someone is there when they wake up. I know I always like to see someone when I wake up from my operations.”
She just stood above me smiling. I then noticed she was holding my hand.
“Sometimes it is hard for family members or friends to come visit. Some people just really don’t like hospitals. And, I guess”, she said, “not everybody has someone that close to them. So, I like to become their visitor for them. I hope you don’t mind.”
I didn’t mind. Although it did make me embarrassed to realize that I fit in the latter category; I didn’t have anybody that close to me.
She just smiled at me and petted my hand as the medications worked their magic on me and I started to drift back off to sleep. I heard a nurse come into the room and say, “There you are, Honey. You need to get back to your room now and leave this nice man be.”
The next time I regained consciousness, I noticed a hand drawn picture of a house with a Christmas tree out front with a note that said, “I hope you get home before Christmas” and was signed by Elizabeth.
Each new day, I was welcomed by another drawing of Christmas scenes; smiling faces; reindeer; and, starry skies. All containing a happy note and all signed, ”Love, Elizabeth”.
After ten days of recovery and following the insertion of two stents into my heart, I was well enough to return to my empty home. On my way out of the hospital, I stopped by the Oncology Wing to say good-bye and thank you to Elizabeth. When I asked the nurse at the floor station where I could find Elizabeth, she replied, “Oh I'm sorry, Elizabeth is no longer with us.”
I then said, “Well can you tell me her home address or phone number, I would really like to thank her for visiting me in my hospital room this past week.”
The look on the nurse’s face indicated that I misunderstood what she had meant. Elizabeth was no longer with us.
Sadly, I started walking towards the exit.
Just before I got to the elevator, I noticed an open door with a man lying on his bed, with tubes in his nose and throat and nobody else in the room with him. I went into his room and sat in the empty chair.
When he opened his eyes two hours later, I said, “Hi, I'm Joe. I noticed there was nobody here when you were brought back from your operation and I know how nice it is to see a smiling face when you wake up, so I thought I would sit here with you for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”
He squeezed my hand; gave a slight smile; and, slowly drifted off back to sleep.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012
Dick Burton examining Liz Taylor's rectal sphincter for blood.
Sexual love. Pornographic, anthropological, primate love.
* * *
Newton wrote the Principia
So only serious mathematicians would comprehend.
"I've been faking my way through life," he lied.
* * *
They say the white pine whispers
What the wind can't say.
In the blowdown there's a slow ballet.
* * *
I am a citizen of the empire.
Moonlight & heartbeat.
Zach's feet stink.
* * *
Flying low, scaring crows.
* * *
Watres pipyng hoot.
First, entertain. Then expectorate (spit).
* * *
Avoid the I,
Avoid yourself, and enter the void?
I think not.
* * *
Summer morning, rabbit in my garden.
Let it be or send a warning.
Let the rabbit eat my peas.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015
snow is falling, drifting, floating down like filigree
I stand discouraged in my doorway, flower shopping bag in hand -
perhaps, a cup of chamomile by the fire, warming feet
January 8, 2013
For the contest, Sijo
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2013
Blue covers the white,
Snowdrops winning the winter,
Smiles melt snow and time.
Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2013
We wrote your name on the snow, and white will grow
And rise in the large drifts, till the singing pale moon,
Then, in its a week`s journey, the scarlet wind will blow.
Blinding white will arrive at the old luminous steeple, soon;
There, after the season`s ritual sacrifice of the savory pig,
We keep the lard, without defile it, in the Advent`s noon.
If presents gather under the Christmas tree , angels in white
Descend from their glass sky with frozen flowers for the windows.
The villagers dream hot wine singing, swimming in their tired sight:
That is the question: Domestic wines, or lyrical Muscat Ottonel ?
Pair to varza calita - steamed cabbage with pork ribs .Idyllic picture …
Garlicky sausages and horse radishes surely brought just from the hell.
Each day, we have to take winter away from our large courtyard
Else, all will be buried in snow. We eat a table of the cold smoked lard
And other foods invented before the postmodernism of Lyotard.
Salata de boeuf - minced boiled vegetables with meat, mayonnaise
And a dash of mustard; Tzuica –plum brandy, all kind of grills
Cow tongue with olives , potateos , Snitzel Viennese or Malinese ,
Sarmale - minced meat with rice, wrapped in pickled cabbage leaves.
Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012