Some problems
Cannot be solved with money
Do not have a clear cause
Do not hide behind words
Some problems
Appear out of nowhere
They live right where we do
Like furniture or crockery
On the table or in the sideboard
Or like the view from the window
On a clear day, or at dawn
When winter sets in
Summer days will be frozen
In the photo archive of years gone by
Memories will flood back
And there are no problems
Some problems, fortunately
Disappear of their own accord
Without anyone’s involvement
Like snowflakes melting in the air.
A girl watchmaker stands among clocks rimmed with frost,
their pale faces caught in winter's thin hush.
She watches silence drip from their frozen hands,
each drop a faint crack in the brittle air.
Shadows settle like cold breath around her craft,
while time thins itself beneath her steady gaze.
Breath turns to crystal
In the empty air
My fingers aren't mine anymore
Time slipping away
Is this what stars feel like?
The cold crawls deeper now
Through every vein and bone
Is this what stars feel like?
When they're burning all alone?
Can't feel my heartbeat
Against the arctic wind
My thoughts are floating free
Beyond my frozen skin
Is this what stars feel like?
The cold becomes so beautiful
As consciousness takes flight
Is this what stars feel like?
As they pierce the endless night?
The boundary dissolves
Between earth and sky
I'm turning into light
Is this what stars feel like?
* * *
This is how stars burn out
Strung by the higher Thought
On firmament of heaven
Billions of light-years apart
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: EIGHT BY EIGHT Poetry Contest
Date: August 1, 2026
Fog Between Souls
Silent woods now hold wind echoes.
Grey mist veils our cold, frozen path.
Thick fog stands between you and me.
Dodder wrapped around both our souls.
Rootless, it drained all of our hope.
Broken leaves wept right at our feet.
Who stole our sweet love into fog?
Only silence softly answered.
Poet's Note:
Written for the Skeletons Poetry Contest. This dramatic monologue uses "skeleton of hope" as a metaphor for resilience that appears during grief.
Ash Into Phoenix
You ask why I walk barefoot through this frozen forest?
The broken road cuts me, and dancing fog swirls at my feet.
Every step is heavy and cold.
Demons of sorrow and despair circle me.
I thought grief would bury me in the dark.
Then the skeleton of hope rose from my chest.
He wore a gown of silver, with stars on its glittering seams.
He sat beside me, a golden staff in his hand.
He took my hand and looked into my eyes.
"Hardship burns your old soul," he said.
"From the ash rises a phoenix of hope."
"Grief is fire. Let it light your path."
"In darkness, you can still glow."
He smiled at me, at the person drowning in grief, and said:
"Grief is not a punishment.
It is the polish that strengthens your inner self."
And then I stood, because he was right.
Cold mirror frozen
Knows sorrowful sinful past
Wondering lost mind
A red ruby fire shine bright
Melting the reflective ice
lake
winter frozen lake
ice cracks, frozen bubbles rise
chilled wind, deep blue sky
Frozen in Photographs
Heaven wind calls
Cheery blooms near
Bench feels like home
Your kiss is warm
We smile at photographs and spring that never leaves
Hold your fingers around my soul
as we tightly embrace our love
held as an eternal truth
where death has no meaning
and neither does time
for love's bond is stronger
and will last beyond the measurable
though we are suspended through eternity
it does not hold us
we are the holders of love's existence
the guardians that grace the faceless emotion
that we give a face
as we hold firmly onto each heartbeat's cadence
even as our flesh dries
and our belted arms grow tighter
merging us together in perpetuity
sealed and impenetrable
held in an armored manifestation
of love portrayed as permeant lovers
encased enduringly, frozen in time
never to be unfrozen
We all live for that hand to hold
Don't we
Silly me
I dream of you tonight
Sending me love letters
Offering advice on how I could be better
Whispering me in the ear I love you
Writting me poetry
You write well
But here you are
Colder than stone
How do I know what is inside you
When you do not show it
You leave me alone
When your presence is worshipped
And I clinge to you
I can not let you go
I can imagine anything
But not, not to see you
So I dance in ice
With frozen angels.
Frozen Dreams
Poverty
with a view
Wilderness
in the stew
Icebergs set
aflow
Desolation
row
Every day
a choice
Searching for
that voice
The one
to set me free
And melt
— this frozen dream
*****
This Day Forward
Giving up
on tomorrow
Rechristening
today
The blessings
before me
As presence
they lay
Regret is for
losers
Of which
I’ve been one
But from
this day forward
Today
zero – sum
*****
Door #3
We don’t write
to uncover
what’s right or what’s wrong
We write
to discover
— ourselves
*****
Bottom Line
Writer’s write
as dilettante’s talk
Writer’s write
and poseurs they squawk
Writer’s write
with dandies in tow
Writer’s write
— so others may know
(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)
as shockwaves chilled the tide, filled the water
on buoys where also my white face fell
would we remember this time, holding blue
in her deep cold blast, the ocean's eyes stopped
while salt drained what's left of an iceborn cry
invisible the shore moved, or footprints
in those sandals I still disappeared in
her frozen lap is everywhere to me
seagulls combing the green spray, but it's green
so you see the current left in the cracks
I beach on sea laying down, lying down
where shells in frost-dead surf core burned further
filled the water, as shockwaves chilled the tide
on buoys where also my white face fell
holding blue, would we remember this time
So intensely I loved you,
And in the heat of passion I was burned,
Like a tree caught by surprise,
By the traps of fire that devours all nature in its turn.
Slowly I won you over,
As the sun courts the day with care,
As the moon dims the warmth away,
And the sky, defeated, empties into air.
So your coldness cooled me down,
The passion faded, the light grew pale,
Leaving bruises born of emptiness,
Of uncertainty and a love that fell silent without a tale.
Every memory, a faithful witness
Of a feeling never truly lived or fed,
Hope departed, and with it Cupid fled,
Leaving only the echo… of cold silence, lost and dead.
She is a well-behaved girl,
I heard someone tell my mother,
Once.
You were like an old soul,
Another confessed to me
As I was becoming of age.
Not once,
Did another ask, or with concern
“Why was she so quiet?”
No one
Paid attention to my silence,
It became normal to them and normalized by me too.
Why was I so mute? At
the moment, I just felt as if
I was frozen in time.
Like no one would
Listen, or
Care, or
Believe me…
Frozen Blossom
Cold lips, sun-kissed.
Rose-crimson comes to life,
unfolding bliss,
opening aperture -
hear the rapture.
The tint of snow, bright-red.
Frozen sunset
in ev-e-ry petal.
She shivers, with delight,
anticipates
animated brushstrokes
fondling velvet.
Revival, early Spring -
sings angel wings,
tinged with silver detox.
As she breathes out,
she warms inner stamen,
awakening
potent place in Eden.
Frozen blossom,
fragile in dormant state -
latent shatter,
but she is beautiful,
and capable
of weathering the snow.
A blushing bride
with wedding veil, of white,
in April’s hold.
Espoused daren’t let her
out of his sight.
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