When Winters Came


When Winters came
Awash with ire in unsteadied storm
Forged winter’s fire — ice reddy worn

When Winters came
Scorn slipt over crimson rinks
Torn limb rips skins to pale pinks

When Winters came
In hands of Iron gript
Froze dagger tips
Bled damned horizon dript
Rose ichor’s lips

When Winters came
A shed cherry kiss impressed upon
White battlefields
At the base of this mountain’s face yon
Beard — battered shields

Warcried slogan crescendos
Fell to soft, wet whispers lain
All cried broken memento’s
Well — too oft, when Winters came

When Winters came resource was rare
When Winters came we’d War our share

When Winters came and went
Then splinters flamed descent

Now, Winters gone have come back
Proud cinders shone drag us back

To that place that our mountained face
Turned to ash
And, our Winters became fountain sprays

Scattering; what remains of…

…our well
urned past.


© poormansdreams



Do the colder months collude?


And, I wonder,

are the colder months colluding?


Would warring Winter, pause?

Could audacious Autumn, wait?


Or, does the vexed, brooding

and unruly thunder

shape the sordid

cause

of the lightning,

hale, snow and rain?


Why does the gourmand, wolfy-pack,

have to, spit,

growl, and, attack,

the Spring, and, the Summer?

Do they resent;

the clement, balmy days.

Or, just, yearn to take their place?


Mankind has reached it’s own;

November,

suffering unscrupulous mists; a fog of charging cheats,

compassion is a disillusioned ember, smothered and crushed

below;

fraught

autumnal

feet.


A stampeding fall persists,

clenched in the dying undergrowth,

of doomed and dark deceit.


So, do the colder months collude?

That remains, forever, to be

seen.


But, the human race to season, enroot, ended in; self-defeat.

Fallen;

from favour;

from grace;

gone

trees.


A final, lonely leaf of fortitude;

fell, and, lost, beyond the evergreen.