by Angela Stevens
I am perpetually covered by a light dusting of faith
gently suffocating by binding of winter's blood
A vein open but making no impact of colour or sound,
on a lace of white, devoid of marks on the flesh of the land,
it is not the temperature that is chilling.
they all come to write their scriptures on the new page,
every day, hunched; they cower and cry,
but each day nature gives a kiss of coldness in reply
He stands beside me wanting the frozen sea to give up its dead
a forgotten trail of the dazed,
gripping green tendrils of hope but only in despair.
They can't find their path when the polar wants its way
But God loves the pious spring, this bud will grow through.
Author's Note: I gave myself a challenge; write a poem while listening to a song just once. I cheated, I listened to it 3 times. The song is Scala & Kolacny Brothers - My December (I adored the Linkin Park song ages ago and saw this and had to download it).
I haven't scribbled anything down in absolutely ages but when writing this I remembered how much I love writing poetry (it was ten minute job, lol). p.s. yes I know it isn't great but when you finally write something and it re-ignites the 'oh, I do love this' feeling. That's what this is to me.
Posted on 05/13/2013
Copyright © 2020 Angela Stevens
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 05/13/13 at 08:53 PM|
Now I must hear this song, must must must.
...kiss of coldness in reply... wowsome
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/28/13 at 05:36 PM|
As a life long resident of the "great white north," I can certainly relate to this in my own way, along with the Author's Note. Nice work!
|Posted by Laura Doom on 12/31/13 at 07:42 PM|
Found the song; repetitive, mesmeric, its animation suspended--until re-reading. Good one...
|Posted by George Hoerner on 02/15/14 at 02:50 AM|
Actually very nice lady and I hope it does re-ignite your writing and I am able to see more of it.