Frozen in Time
For seventy years and counting,
Every photograph and every newsreel,
Every home movie and every video,
I feature distantly frozen in time.
Millions if not billions of images,
I am invisible but none the less there.
Yes, I am seen in the family album,
Snapshots of change growing older.
My fascination lies in the background,
Ever present but rarely in sight.
Lurking in the shadow of others,
Is this too deep, what does it mean.
HERMIT’S FIRE IN THE FROZEN MEDIEVAL FOREST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wind, a teeth-chattering dirge
through skeletal branches,
finds no purchase on the small flame.
He built it low, a secret
whispered to the snow-laden earth,
a defiant ember in the kingdom of ice.
Years bleed into seasons here,
marked only by the shrinking woodpile,
the lengthening beard, the deepening lines
etched by firelight and solitude.
He remembers faces,
ghosts flickering in the flames,
loves lost, battles fought,
a life traded for this quiet burn.
The forest breathes around him,
a vast, indifferent lung.
He is a mote, a spark,
yet the fire persists,
a stubborn refusal to surrender
to the long, cold night.
And perhaps, he thinks,
as the embers glow,
that is enough.
Just to burn.
Just to be.
as embers glow on wintry nights
candy canes and x-mas lights
truth gives way to summer’s steam
carousels and caramel cream
what fancy leads me on to dream
of sugar plums in frozen cream
O, free me from this August's blight
encase the world in beams of light
" As I inhale the air with the gentle pressure my lungs could create
When the path to my inner self it trace
When I stay still, standing
Staring at the leaves clapping themselves to the wind
Mesmerizing me,
Rustling it's way towards me, setting me ready for a emotional voyage
Halting its feet, With amazement this ticking crocodile observes me
With it's feet as still as I stand,
A pressure I feel on my fur
Which causes me to diminish into ashes
I prefer to be freezed,
Freeze for eternity.
By this mere encounter my essence appears to be seized,
I feel every bit of me, wanting to tear each bit of this host
To my surprise, this ticking crocodile still observing me by the eyes I can't find
Not getting bothered, I try to fly
Perhaps on sentiments I am high.
As it came, the eternal peace vanishes
Here, I stand wondering about the significance of this encounter I had.
Ironically, it is quite insignificant.
Waking me up,
Then again struggling to go along or
Perhaps fleeing from the grasp of this ticking monster."
Frozen Balloon
A Tele-Graphed Whisper,
You Know The Game:
Mountains To Sand
Surrender The Same.
No Sun-Burn, No Sea-Gulls...
No Music, No Face.
The Memory Of A Memory
Once Deeply Embraced.
Who Are You, Once Real?
On The Want Of Your Breath?
I Grasp For Integrity...
In
The
Throes
Of
It's
Death.
The Skin-Kissed Un-Wearable,
Exhausted, We Chased:
The Intention Of Memories
We Armed To Embrace.
No Furtive Dilemma...
No Sweet Nectar's Taste:
This
Fading
Mad
Memory...
Expanding In Space.
-Gray Squirrel
06-10-2025
GREY.
"Life is not black or white; it is the agony of grey."
“I can’t do this”, she said. With an unveiling frown,
“I can’t deal with all this” but the treasons were filled with all her absurd,
The voice that used to occupy my crown,
Now echoes with these ‘final words’,
Those silent whispers are now haunted by the night’s prey,
My face like a fugitive’s note looking for her in grey,
How does it feel to leave me with a voice, no one to hear?
To leave me with joy, but no one to share?
You’ve left me a life, but no one to care,
And left me in a reality worse than my fear
I fell in for your autumn dust lure,
The Aurora Borealis once dreamt now frozen beneath,
and you became the wildfire to what we couldn’t endure,
I drown and drown deep in the heath,
Through the rush of life, I carve my way,
My face is mirror of you looking for you in grey…
No one speaks
of the other face
where the sun turns away
from its own fire.
There,
light arrives as rumor,
Penumbra drapes the craters
in half-truths
shadows with silver edges,
ghosts of warmth
that
never
touch.
The umbra
is deeper than silence.
It is
violet sorrow
frozen in motion,
a sanctuary
built of
charred frost.
Even the wind
moves carefully here,
tracing broken helixes
in gold-ash air.
And yet
in that hush,
in that glacial hush
something
blooms.
A flicker,
A rebellion
in cobalt and fireglass.
The frozen side of the sun
dreams
not of warmth~
but of
colour.
The sun having a frozen side~
a wish like a snowball in hell,
or netting the wind while oceans b o i l
in f i r e.
The rage of its heat needs curtailing.
I'm melting...
like chocolates and candles~
roasting like chicken in an oven.
How then
do I hide the cry of my fat?
With the frozen side of the sun,
snowflakes fall but never thaw,
painting my doorstep in white,
chilling my bones dry,
shaking my limbs stiff.
Birds hide their faces...
and songs become faint echoes in snow-draped distance,
while rasping hoots of early-rising snowy owls
mimic the whispers of restless winds—
announcing the coming of an impending
dark sky
that will not abate...
the ceaseless dropping of white flakes.
I'm b o i l i n g—
a tempest brewing...
not as a boiling frog syndrome
but like a fish out of water
in a slough of despond.
My skin scathes,
heat burns leave sores on my soles.
Long rays of shine pierced my sunshade;
sweat formed oceans on my skin.
And I w h i s p e r e d—
in the absence of ears~
"I need the frozen side of the sun."
She, who had seemed my sun some bygone time,
feels now much icier than even far
forsaken pluto’s sunless hemisphere.
Please! reckless Universe! enable rhyme
to unriddle unreason’s paradigm!
—The frozen side of the sun!—What bizarre
world bears such contradiction? Bringing near
fire and frost? both deform eachother’s frame!
And so: she never was my flame—nor now
my glacial winter—.No, she simply was
a human hurting, a someone hurting
me.—a cornered creature caught converting
an inward chatter(,adisconcertingbuzz,)
whichever way her body would allow.
On the frozen side of the sun lies Svalbard.
A barren, treeless stretch of land
Buried beneath snow and stillness.
Here, the cold doesn’t just bite;
It consumes.
The whirlwind air scrapes skin with surgical precision.
For months each year, the sun abandons the sky.
Svalbard drifts beneath a vaulted night.
Darkness bleeds through permafrost,
Settling in the earth’s frozen marrow.
But beneath this ice-scarred wilderness,
Where avalanche and ash calcify,
A vault lies hidden deep in the mountain’s underbelly.
It cradles the future;
A womb of waiting seeds,
Asleep in rows of glass and steel.
Hope, suspended in time.
In this tomb of preservation,
Life isn’t gone.
Just waiting with a promise of rebirth.
And when the sun returns,
Brushing marigold hues across glistening glaciers
Like a kiss upon Snow-White's lips,
Those seeds will stir with life.
They will remember the sun.
They will rise.
Turning over in a ruffled bed,
stark red numbers sear 4 a.m. into bloodshot corneas.
Nothing but darkness creeps through threadbare curtains, frozen in place.
A desolate silence becomes deafening, as birdsong no longer crescendos—
what would have been the breaking of dawn.
It's been six years now since our brightest star was thrown out of orbit,
exposing the frozen side of the sun.
No longer does our planet experience the warmth of its radiation,
nor the glow of its solar flares.
Within a fraction of a second, humanity was plunged into an everlasting night.
Temperatures plummeted; mass hysteria was at its peak.
Crops perished within hours to days,
as the new icy tundra eclipsed once-thriving farmlands.
The birth of a perpetual Ice Age was at hand.
Power grids crystallized and snapped.
Cities crumbled; small towns were blotted out,
disappearing off the map, never to be seen again.
Death's gelid hand spared but a few souls—
holed up in a scientific research bunker in the Arctic.
We are but the unlucky few who get to “live” in this glacial purgatory,
wandering aimlessly forevermore.
Moments come and moments go
as time keeps marching on;
hold me now and kiss me slow
‘fore sunlight breaks with morning dawn,
and wills this precious moment gone.
May 5, 2025
FROZEN SIDE OF THE SUN
Everything has two sides, you will find
That which is thought hot can still hide
A secret, to be concealed as a priority
Yet is shared, only with a favoured few
And offering quite an unexpected view
And never made visible to the majority
Could even the sun have its frozen side
Such an illogical concept, for any mind
A pleasant nature, full of warm feelings
Can, when in an alternate manifestation
Turn suddenly, and expose a soul of ice
But which is the more true, one may ask
Without any hot sun under which to bask
Perhaps it is an artifice or a clever device
And in its complexity, needs explanation
Posing a challenge to all further dealings
If the mask has dropped, truth has begun
I wonder what might lurk behind a smile
Perhaps it is somewhat like a refrigerator
Warm outside, that keeps the inside cold
A heart of ice shards, or maybe it’s gold
As either a furry puppy or scaly alligator
In determining which, ignore any denial
As there may be a frozen side of the sun
She's out of this world, thinking of no one but herself,
The pain she caused on that fateful day,
A forgotten wound that refuses to heal,
A heartless queen, selfish in her own way."
In the shadows of her mind, the memories linger on,
The day she chose to shatter his heart,
A decision made without thought or care,
A broken prince, left alone to mourn."
Her cruelty knew no bounds, a dark queen of ice,
His love, once pure and true, now twisted by her knife,
In the depths of his despair, he curses her name,
A broken kingdom, forever changed by her game."
As the years pass, his pain a constant ache,
He remembers the day she broke him,
A wound that never heals, a scar that never fades,
A cold queen, ruling from a frozen throne of mistakes."
In the silence of his suffering, he whispers her name,
A broken king, his kingdom in ruins,
A shattered dream, forever stained by her game,
A cold queen, alone in her icy domain."
And in the end, he dies alone, his heart frozen in time,
A fallen king, forgotten by the world,
A broken heart, lost to the cold queen's crime,
A tragic tale, of love and betrayal entwined."
Winter's cruel kiss"
The fire crackles—I take the heat,
but my hands pass through my frozen skin.
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