Poems for Winter, just two of my true faves!
by Malcolm Cowley
When everything but love was spent
we climbed five flights above the street
and wintered in a tenement.
It had no bathroom and no heat
except a coal fire in the grate
that we kept burning night and day
until the fire went out in May.
There in a morning ritual,
clasping our chilblained hands, we joked
about the cobwebs on the wall,
the toilet in the public hall,
the fire that always smoked.
We shivered as we breakfasted,
then to get warm went back to bed.
In the black snows of February
that rickety bed an arm's length wide
became our daylong sanctuary,
our Garden of Eden, till we spied
one spring morning at our bedside,
resting on his dull sword,
the rancorous angel of the bored.
"We raised this cockroach shrine to love,"
I said; "here let his coffin lie.
Get up, put coffee on the stove
to drink in memory of love,
then take the uptown train, while I
sit here alone to speculate
and poke the ashes in the grate."
Oh, I LOVE THAT! Here's another one:
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head.
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark, I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit,
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
the colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
It's frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hills and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.
SO GOOD! Okay, one more:
The need I have on winter days
To sit behind the window pane
To gaze upon the frosted ground
The snowflakes coming down and down
And sit alone, a quilt around
my shoulders, legs, and let it drape
a cozy blanket, winter's cape;
I want to hug each single flake.
I think to those cold snowy nights
Our bodies hot and bundled tight
Beneath five quilts we're wound together
Joined for warmth in such cold weather.
How can a snowflake yet be found?
Snowflake, fall here on the ground!
Come, bring your friend and then another
to such a hopeful, wishful mother.
I'd like to hear the quietness
The snow pat-pat as it comes down;
And I'll just sit and retreat still further
and watch each flake go round and round.
When people tell you you'll never do anything with that English degree, prove 'em wrong with a blog, baby! Now I really should go clean my bathroom... Bye! ;0)