My Poem “Thaw”

The air is cold…
There is ice all around…
I am steeping out,
I am breaking the mould…
I refuse to stay in one place
and forever remain gravity bound…
I will not allow fear to take hold…
I will put one foot in front of the other
and walk towards my destiny
that has been foretold…
Soon the ice will thaw
and again I will see the path
upon which I am fated to walk…
There is no way of turning back,
there is no time for talk…
The essence of time is to be fleeting…
The reason of memory
is in order to be reminded of life’s meaning…
I do not fear the future,
nor do I fear this shining icy floor…
One step at a time,
I will keeping going
and walk within the light of the sun
as it slowly but surely transforms
and returns all islands of ice
back into the air from whence they came
in one almighty thaw.

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My Poem ‘The Wolf of Winter’

There is a bite in the air…
the cold wind touches my skin
and sends a shiver down my spine…
the Wolf of Winter is awakening
and leaving its lair…
the Summer months were long
and they were warm –
but, now the howl of the wild
is heralding the re-emergence
and the fresh hunt of what thrives
during the season of Winter-time.

I know this animal very well…
I have been pursued
by the beast of white many times…
I have learned to protect myself
from the force of nature
that can literally get beneath your skin
and chill you to the bone…
I know of people who did not fend-off
the big bad wolf as they were always taught to
and whose spirit unfortunately left their body
as it was overwhelmed and froze them to death
in the place where they lay –
the Wolf of Winter is unrelenting
and has taken many lives;
even as the sun rises on a beautiful golden morning,
the Wolf of Winter walks among us,
and sometimes follows us all the way home.

One of the ways to stave off an attack
from the Wolf of Winter is to keep moving
and to not stay in one place too long –
unless you have a house of thick walls to retreat to
and an unlimited resource of heat;
the Wolf of Winter is just finding their feet
after a period of prolonged slumber –
however, already the Wolf
has caught certain people’s scent
and they are like fresh meat;
the Wolf of Winter can be in many places at-once –
in a snow-covered forest in Switzerland,
on a freezing London street,
atop a mountain in New Zealand;
the Wolf of Winter, like every predator
is both a superior pack-animal
as well as an impressive lone-hunter –
which is why the Wolf of Winter
has lived and endured for as long as it has
and has capably stalked the vast terrain of many lands.

Many fear the Wolf of Winter;
many know the Wolf of Winter is close by
by something as seemingly commonplace as a sneeze;
nobody can truly escape the bitter Alpha -carnivore
who takes their time in deciding
who or what they want to have for dinner;
you can sense the mythical creature of ice
whenever you feel a chill on the Winter breeze;
in a confrontation that happens often
it is not always the same winner who prevails –
you can never truly get the better of a force of nature,
but in my experience if there is one creature
that you should never underestimate
it is the indomitable Wolf of Winter.

My Poem ‘Ice Dreams’

Ice-skating in New York City;
building snowmen in London;
waiting to hear
if the groundhog saw his shadow
in Punxsutawney, Pensylvannia;
sitting in your living room with your children
while watching the movie ‘Frozen’;
collecting fire-wood;
going for long walks;
sitting in a cafe with a coffee and a good book;
meeting up with friends
and enjoying the company of someone
who you haven’t seen in a while
and having a good catch-up and talk;
wrapping up well in thick clothing;
wrapping gifts to be given to friends and family;
listening to seasonally-themed songs
playing on the radio that you can’t resist
the temptation to sing-along with;
the tradition of decorating a room and a tree
that when completely adorned
has the wonderful gift
of making all that look upon it
incredibly happy.

Everybody has a vision and a memory
of what Winter is all about;
to some people the cold temperatures
of winter are what they dislike the most
and they would gladly, if they could,
do without;
to me, it wouldn’t be Christmas especially
if it were not cold, cloudy,
and at any moment it did not feel
like it were about to snow at any moment –
I don’t think I could get used to
having a Christmas, in say Australia,
where it is as hot as the turkey
that is being served up on the dinner table
outside in the sun,
where as you are eating
you can smell the aroma
of food being cooked
on a nearby barbecue.

There are some people
who have never seen
a single real-life flake of snow
fall before their eyes;
their are some people
who have seen more winter days
to last a life-time;
their are some people
who could just out of their window
at a flurry of snow without ever getting bored,
while happily enjoying mulled-wine and mince-pies;
their are some people who know and love
that it is winter by the intoxicating smell of pine.

There is something about winter
that brings out different things in different people;
there is something amazing and beautiful
about how the light of the sun
shines on a winter day
and the way that it can make everything gleam;
there is something fairy-tale-like, and almost magical,
about a snow-covered world;
there is something about everything
that stirs the imagination
that calls back to memories of childhood experiences –
and though to some the thought of cold
and of snow might be their version of a nightmare,
everybody can remember every time
that they had a waking-
or a night-time envisioning
of a very memorable,
and a most-likely cold,
ice dream.

My Poem ‘Coat of Arms’

It’s a cold day in early November –
the pavements are clear,
but the sky is white;
it is so cold
that everybody who is out and about
is wrapped up well
and trying to keep warm
in sanctuaries inside;
I am bracing myself
to return to the freezing temperatures
of the outside world,
on the other side of the window
of the coffee shop where I am sitting –
however, what comforts me,
and what I know will warm me
as I brave the cold,
is the same thing and the same feeling
that I get after the love of my life
and I have kissed –
and I know that when it is time
for me to leave where I am now
and venture home,
I know that the love that I share
with my soulmate and my best friend
who lives far away
will surround me and keep me enveloped
like an electric blanket
when I put on my “Melissa” leather jacket.

People seem to be moving quicker;
time seems to be going faster;
people are purchasing more
than they normally world
at every cash-register;
it is frigid outside at the moment,
but I know that this
is only but the start of winter.

People are booking
their summer holidays already;
the world is settling in
to a brand new season;
people are hoping
that when Christmas arrives
they will be ready;
as is necessary,
every thing that is happening
is happening for a reason.

Illuminations and decorations
are being hung in preparation
of being switched on
and enjoyed to their full-effect;
birds are leaving their nests
and flying south to warmer climates;
I am thinking about the future
and about the happy
and the wonderful times
that I will share
with that special someone in my life
that have not happened yet;
the future itself
is being illuminated right in front of me,
and I am ready to race towards it,
while not once thinking
to ever want to take off
my own coat of arms
that is my “Melissa” jacket.

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My Poem ‘The Shortest Day’

Today is the shortest day;
tonight will be the longest night;
sunrise and sunset will happen
within no time at all of each other,
as if the entire day will begin and end
within the blink of an eye.

The time to do things and to grasp the moments
are more precious today
than they ordinarily are on a normal day;
the Winter Solstice is here –
it is not even midday,
but I can already see the fading of the day’s light.

As soon as I woke up this morning,
I had this immediate feeling that there was something
in the cold early-morning air;
as soon as I started to think cogently
my mind was instantly clear,
and as I watched the sky brighten outside my window
I could do nothing but look up
and marvel at the white clouds that met my stare.

Christmas is but a few days away;
people all over the world
are doing their last pieces of Christmas shopping;
there is an anticipation to be felt all around
that something is on its way;
everybody is filled with hopes and dreams, and genuine joy,
and there is also whispers and wishes
that perhaps soon it may even start snowing.

The air is cold;
the streets are busy;
Christmas songs are playing all around me
and filling me, the atmosphere, and everybody,
with happiness, who are sitting with me here in this cafe;
there are seasons and emotions greeting and changing
and being felt all around the world;
there is energy on the verge of being set free;
there is more than meets the eye occurring today
on the shortest day.