Winter Wonderland
Winter wonderland, white
icing on brown cake, mister
nor’easter’s icy breath, snow-
tires spin helplessly, caught in
eider down drifts, I would
rather be in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina!
Hope is a light by the window, it glows
a lit torch of doting, it never dies
Biding its time on the wings of love's throws
its a matchstick of hope when one cries
Hope is a lantern that hangs way up high
a cresset lamp at the edge of night
Rising and soaring like an eagle in the sky
it is always present and never out of sight
Hope is a feather that floats in thin air
an eider down, for the crest fallen heart
It aims to restore with gentleness and care
it cherishes and delivers, a fresh new start.
When you see blowing flowers
Know it's me who's saying hi
And as long as you see them blowing
Know it's me who hasn't said goodbye
Just know I'm always present
As the days and nights go on
For when you see them blowing
You'll know that I'm not gone
Invisible, silent kisses
I will always give
In the cool and gentle breezes
That's where I will live
Across your skin refreshing
Who doesn't like a hug?
Like soft and fluffy eider down
To keep a bug in a rug
Warm and comfy cozy
That's what I will do
Whenever flowers blow in wind
It's just me hugging you
I have seen pictures of friends on Alaska cruise,
The Denali landscape looked so stark, no hues.
No frozen or floating icebergs, no polar bears catching the fish,
The caribou stood alone, in the waning forest, a solemn wish.
I used my pixel phone, live translate to talk,
To the lonely mature bear, we took a thoughtful walk.
He understood my desire, promised me the dreamland's gleam,
The gentle bear twirled my cane, as magic's silver stream.
With magic, glaciers formed again, pristine and bright,
The snow fell, blizzards came, the forest turned green overnight.
The polar bear and her cub, fished the shores so grand,
Caribou danced in snowy woods, joy spreading through the land.
Northern sea otters swam delightfully in ice-cold water,
Spectacles eider, short-tailed albatross, flying squirrels, all did scatter.
They showed their maneuvers with glee and grace,
Even wood bison appeared, returning from the past's embrace.
But when I woke up from my dream so clear,
The stark realities struck, and sadness was near.
I hope the dwindling birds and animals, facing global warming's strife,
Will survive and thrive, embracing a new lease on life.
Draped over the land like a ghostly shroud,
a blanket of morning mist
morphs into rolling banks of fog;
soft as an eider-filled duvet.
Dawn rebukes Night's claim to darkened skies
and armed with chisels of light,
sculpts ebony shadows
into shifting shapes,
sent scurrying into nooks and crevices.
Pink, indigo, and blue hues
expunge an ebony canvas of stars and moon;
as color emerges from first light.
While a bashful breeze blows silhouettes into disarray;
etch-a-sketching, a brand-new day.
And subtle sleeping sounds, slowly awaken;
giving voice to Nature:
while a scarlet sun silently shimmies up a crimson sky.
NOVEMBER NIGHTFALL
Color falling, slow and steady,
covers sidewalks, gold already
crunching under feet, home trodding.
Wind blows tree tops, like heads nodding.
Early night-time’s dark disguises
draw out moonlight. High it rises!
Inside houses, people huddle.
Under blankets, pets they cuddle.
Sipping mugs of steaming cider,
propped on pillows, stuffed with eider,
folks then open books of stories:
quests, adventures, love, and glories!
Used: PS
November 25, 2020
down under, eider ducks can claim
for it in their thousands were slain
to keep us all warm
their bodies torn
that's how the eiderdown was named
~~~~~~~~~~~
Inspired by, not in Eve Roper's limerick contest, 'Down Under World', please check the link https://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry/contests/upside_down_world__limericks_only_11050
Lullaby 2
wind voices speak wild words
above an eider down of dreams
and nighted owl sleeps close to the trunk
when November rends our sky
rain changes from her silks
and whitened raiment wears
as winter casts its nets of frost
across the naked bowers
whispers
sweet gentle being
tread soft as eider down
upon this weary heart.
search quietly
for nests of love
between the cracks
of ancient pain.
perhaps, one phoenix flame
exists among the ruins.
She descends from a summit vestibule
on powder fine as cotton down this day
of days in porcelain chiffon and tulle.
The winter firs in frost echo the way
her snowflake peau de soie in frozen jewel
cascades like waterfalls of ice. Tears weigh
the same as beaded pearls and just as cool;
they glisten in her bodice. The light plays
from a ghost sun inside them as in pools
of diamonds. She glides in mist-white sleigh
down slopes of eider, the cold glitter fools
even the nearest celebrant and strays
from hearts of men for she's just as cruel
as flood or famine on Winter's first day.
Two eider pilgrims
scooping shadows like nestlings
under cedar wings
Courage Means Balls To Feather The Nest
Curled up in misery’s orbs under the duvet
Out lost cast and below even eider downs scratching
Unbelievably lost without the slightest smell of soft caress
Reason set in auto pilot in endless loops of mental constriction
Anarchy playing hard ball with emotions curve balls straight to bulls’ eye
Game over ‘rien ne vas plus’ just one bullet left right and centre with muzzle in sight
Ernest plucked up courage and one feather from the quilt and lived on to scribe his story
18th December 2016
Contest: What Courage Means To You
At the end of the day
I go back,
Travel the moments
Of my field-path-
Retrace the harvest
And seed
Placed as children
In eider cradles.
Watch how easily souls are gathered
When words are falsely spent to mock
Unfettered as if hearts so mattered
Like tossing bread crumbs from a dock.
The least of ducklings are discerning
Fooled they're not by false repast
Paddling toward a chance of earning
While food through rippled currents last.
Fear rises from life's ledge
Only when you are looking down
Peering up from waters edge
Only warm sunlight can be found.
Trade only notes in eider down
And keep your carriage dry
Nary ye nest with unknown colors
And place not your fortune in a lie.
If it walks like a duck,
It could be a goose...
Feeding the Ducklings Contest
Judged 5/30/2016
Touching any metal un-gloved,
Turns skin to tin, fingers on fire,
Breathing inside what’s above,
Kindles lungs to a stinging pyre.
Exhaled steam is white as a dove.
Some find refuge wearing eider attire,
But hours exposure ends the tropical cove.
After a while the icy novelty tires,
As keeping calm means the need to move.
Snowmen dread mercury higher,
For melting’s their fateful groove.
Winter’s funeral march has its criers,
But in shivering’s end there is no lost love.
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