We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails," by Dolly Parton ,
Hot summer was over. A mighty wind roared
out of nowhere bringing back the nasty dark clouds.
Where did the wind come from? No one really knew.
I did not know nor did I care, so long it brought
no rain, for then the wind would wet me all over.
That's when I saw a woman huddled near a bar.
Raw wind whipped around, so detrimental for her.
I could see her trembling with cold; her clothes tattered.
She was quite near of getting hypothermia.
The wintry wind was of no actual help.
I got her in the bar where at least there was warmth.
Two women helped and I paid for a tot of scotch.
I left the bar, the wind was like a breeze now.
I wandered round the area, heart-broken,
the cold breeze wrapped itself around my heart.
Its gust echoed in my heart calling for Rose.
How could I find her in such a wind-swept city?
The swirling wind insisted on its forceful call.
Listen to the wind, it churns her name in my soul.
Placed 1
I finally went dancing again
This time my partner was a ghost from the past
Their movements so fluid that it felt like I was on an island
Their touch so cold I thought I would catch hypothermia
Their face so distorted colors bent and contracted around them
We twirled and waltzed throughout the night
We both knew the steps
One step, two step, pause, pull away, pull them in, twirl
But something was different
I could no longer feel that spark that once was there
That electric feeling that sent shivers down my spine is gone
I feel nothing as our eyes meet
I don't feel the rhythm in my heart
I don't feel a sweet sensation meeting my taste buds
All that once was is gone
I guess that's what it means to dance with a ghost.
The Mary Rose, Andrea Doria, Estonia,
MV Doña Paz, RMS Titanic, and the Endurance
Wasn't, in techno craftsmanship, each a utopia?
Wasn't, yet, the cause of their wreck been soft luxe sentiments?
Could they, in cores, cope with collisions with the ice rocks?
Was immersion hypothermia humanly handled?
In times of perpetual physical and psychic blocks
Wasn't the divine enlightenment and wisdom trampled?
As though hunted and haunted whales, the ship's skeletons swayed.
Spirits of the dead, with the synchronizing sea waves, dance
Neither the lighthouses nor the stars could show them the way.
Doesn't, yet, the strife of each life, before God, get a chance?
In games of gain and loss, did they gain and lose by themselves?
Are the shelves of the ships that are wrecked mere shelves of elves' delves?
Snow
cirrus clouds
winter adventure
horizon
displays
aurora borealis
ice crystal effect
fascinating
temperature
below zero degrees
incredibly
complex conditions
lingering season
arctic
blast of cold air
mercilessly
climate research
AVOID
frostbite
or hypothermia
dress well
| Oceans - Of Thought |
Harmonised hypothermia sets
through the darkened depth
of the chasm deep,
Like a heavy-weighted wreck
of my linguistic mind.
As blithe planulae float
amongst the turquoise torrents
of the surging tides.
Efflux my porous skin
that secretes the bitter brine,
Void of lust, my halitous breath.
When will I find the courage
that guillotine faith;
cut across these saline soothing shores
That reflects like crystalline glass,
that rips and takes.
But, incompetent to see more;
the calm of the sea.
But under tide
the waves topple above
like whitewash remembrances
Beckoning me to emerge and find,
Flavours of youth
in the lull of the sea
So I begin searching of forever freedoms
in the caress of the breeze.
I say my adieu to the abyss-abundant sea
My love for the ocean;
Is a coral of burnt sienna,
tipped with lanvanda,
and blushing pinks.
The azure's solvent divinity
has annihilated fear
Like an oakum of my sanity
My mind finally carefree.
There was a man from Donbas
There was a man from Donbas,
who sat on a headless ass.
"Hey! You're going the wrong way!" he did say,
"and your breath smells of foul grass."
So, moved to the States he arranged,
dreaming of the wide open plains.
There, he too rode the same headless ass
and complained the view never changed.
So, he rode north to Canada,
where pike swims in lakes over tha.
But alas, he rode the same jackass
and nearly died from hypothermia.
Now for the south, he done rode,
way down to ole el méxico.
While riding his preferred headless steed,
he complained of the same poop show.
Let this be a lesson, dear friend.
When you roam to the ends, with no happiness to lend,
and find yourself riding a headless ass,
It's not the world that offends.
You simply mounted the wrong end.
And you must change before you die from the gas.
by, Martin Braun
August 22, 2023
The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Any reflection of the Democratic Party, socialists, the left, or communists is simply a coincidence.
It's like going to a hardware store and buying a nail gun, which is for construction, but then you turn around and use it to kill someone. This is an impersonation of the practice of medicine.
Rapid coma, respiratory depression, hypotension,
Bradycardia, hypothermia, asystole and death.
Note.nehar, darya, jungle, picnic, inj, game..
1.It is an odorless,colorless.
2.It is a clear liquid.
3.It can cause lavage.
4.CNS Depression.
5.Hypothermia.
6.Lack of appetite.
Note.chemical drink drugs game..
Storms and gales are closing in
Heavy rainfall we just cannot win
Hail and thunder lightning too
Prediction is dire possibly true.
Weather forecast no big surprise
Take to my bed refuse to rise
Sounded just awful so very bleak
Elements grim it's warmth I seek.
Electric blanket thermostat high
Hypothermia unlikely in comfort lie
Blizzard warning maelstrom of snow
Temperature dropping mercury low.
Icicles decorate our old tree
Branches arthritic just like me
Best to hibernate winter away
When spring flowers bloom ~ Liberté
The sun of peace is believed to be
in the palms of the so-called deeply patriotic politicians
or noble warriors of an army,
thinking so is a sort of mania
as the cruelty of a war is so cold and freezing
that many SUNS dies from hypothermia
In the wilderness
never-never go it alone
But if you do.
Leave your itinerary with a loved one.
Always carry a cell phone...
If ever you become lost or hobbled
these things have been known
to turn into divining rod angels.
In the mountains, layering up is always best.
The cold closes in quickly.
Hypothermia is the first cousin of death.
Do carry some serious caliber.
A can of pepper spray on hand.
You never know who or what's
creeping 'round the next blind bend.
Do remember it's Ursa's Kingdom
she harbors the strength of a God
and for certain has no fear of man,
Some folks are naive and stubborn.
Ignoring most of the advice.
Tempting the unknown of a mountain's black soul.
On the last grizzled path of their lives.
Her anger blows
frigid, like Arctic wind
Tears of hostile disposition flows
bosom lethal —
Pulmonary liquid nitrogen
Acrimonious breath
expel serrated exclamations
Jagged exhalation
feels like six below death
Such an icy sensation
Formaldehyde intimation,
cadaver cold pulsation
Got a cryogenic nature
that resides
in an unemotional South Pole
Frostbite vocals
has igloo vibrations
Freezer burn temperamental flatline
show glacial striations
Sub-zero body language
Kilimanjaro translate
hypothermia lacerations
Those neon palpitations
has taken nether hold
Arrhythmic separation
breaks at the
jilted Fahrenheit of six below
Pulsating pain, so cadaver cold
09-10-21
the smell of her perfume is still in the air
internal rolling hills with large stones give me blue relief
it has been a few weeks and i am still on the sharp edge of last night
melted snow falls from the sun's red eyes in the sky
my pain worsens, and i know that i have just been fired several run on sentences ago
i am a victim of the hypocrisy of my own advice to previous hypocrites
nothing has been moved but the obtuse angle of my broken heart
i try to move, but the oil to the tin is defiant like hypothermia taking directions
i pray for her to come back, but only the devil answers
attention provides her book of directions on wilted late bloomer time
now the smell of her perfume is like poisonous furies singing teasingly to the smart part of my brain
all i write now right now are poems devoid of solid rhythm
my existence is nothing but a vapor far removed from former glory
i now have a life sentence at a snail's pace with the tortoise winning at hare brained speed
i slide down black hill mountain......white is the bloody fire of regret and shame
SOMNAMBULIST
She stood before me in the mist,
That beautiful somnambulist.
Eyes open, yet I doubt she saw me,
In the mist she stood before me.
She was dressed in night attire,
Designed to set men’s hearts afire
And I was suitably impressed.
In night attire she was dressed.
Her feet were bare, he toenails red,
Just as she had left her bed.
She could die from hypothermia there,
Her toenails red, her feet were bare
I draped my mac around her shoulder,
Before the lass got even colder.
Then took her hand and led her back.
Around her shoulder I draped my mac
She lived at number forty-eight, I knew,
The one where white magnolias grew.
Her mother waited at the gate
I knew she lived at number forty-eight.
Next day she came to my front door
To thank me for the night before.
And now we are marrying in May.
To my front door she came next day
14th June 2020
Swap Quatrain contest
Sponsor - Emile Pinet
Whoever finds themselves alone,
To make their bed a slab of stone,
Goes there but for the grace of I
To contemplate the reason why.
Who knows the journey each have led?
The horrors which they may have fled.
Financial ruin is one such fate,
Or just hard luck, the loss is great!
And so, a life where pride is lost
To forage bins at any cost.
Where passersby will turn their heads
To go home to their comfy beds.
A placard scratched out more in hope
Disguises that they fail to cope
And thus, the empty cups reveal
The hopelessness they can’t conceal.
The cold and bitter winters night,
The cardboard box for which they’ll fight,
May stave off hypothermia
But do little for insomnia!
It’s miserable to say the least,
The fact that they will never feast
Or just to shower, enjoy a cuddle,
Instead a lowly fire they huddle.
Have we now become so cruel?
Whereby society will often drool
On celebrities who matter not,
Whilst these poor souls are thus forgot!
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