When winter was slumbering and sleeting?
Who is winter covering on the waking side of dawning?
I never owned an instrument; this house was silent
When I fell asleep last summer--last evening, rather,
Far beyond this slushy keening.
Who is winter fooling, this side of the seasons?
Who came to the house last night to open just one window,
Who left a cold like silver notes up and down the foyer?
Who sang the starlight ashes into this tray of morning?
Why has my voice, gone yesterday, returned
Along an old coil of phone line,
Still calling me to warn me?
Who is winter fooling this side of the seasons?
Sharing this morning with Poets United and, possibly, with The Sunday Muse. The photo inspiration is definitely from The Muse; however, there is, may be, could possibly lead to a short story rather than a poem...there's usually a winter's ghost story hovering around my head and this warm, too-warm season has produced a lack of lurking weather, ergo, not yet a good story. But this fits in so well with an idea that occurred to me yesterday...so...so may I should cut back on the coffee before l start drafting and just get it done. :) Have a lovely week!
-- Chrissa
Some gorgeous images here. Specially love winter "slumbering and sleeting".
ReplyDeleteI love all the questions - very imaginative piece
ReplyDeleteOr you could sip and type at the same time, surreptitious slurps. Smiles. I loved this poem with all the ponderings. I especially love "who sang the starlight ashes into this tray of morning." Rather brilliant.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful write, Chrissa. I can't wait to read the short story!
ReplyDeleteLove this especially; "Who sang the starlight ashes into this tray of morning?"
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading your poem, covered in deep snow.
ReplyDeleteNever give in to those terrible voices that chant of giving up on coffee. They've no idea what they speak of. Winter, and her motives, need storytelling (especially of the ghostly kind).
ReplyDeleteAh, those are indeed questions that could lead to a very interesting short story!
ReplyDeleteLuv the question posed about winter.
ReplyDeleteLovely imaging. Happy you dropped by my sumie Sunday today
Much☺love
Love, love, love what you have done here, with your lines of questioning, that take this piece in an unique and intriguing direction. Awesome writing!
ReplyDeleteHa, most intriguing!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great read this is Chrissa, meanwhile in Australia we are sweltering in summer heat of 40 degrees C (about 104 F)!
ReplyDeleteI just love how this sounds to read it aloud. And I like poems that pose questions.
ReplyDeleteI loved the image in the last stanza - the idea of a voice coiling on a line - to warn - is just fantastic - and perfectly creative. And this poem asks and answers but asks more than it answers - as if shaking the narrative voice ... and we can't help but be drawn into it - to dance to the mad swirl of energy, light - flakes, notes - this is life, the seasons -
ReplyDeletethis poem wraps itself up and unwinds in a fascinating tempo -
superb writing!
I love the questions in this Chrissa. I look forward to the story that may develop. Wonderful writing as always!
ReplyDeleteWho left a cold like silver notes up and down the foyer?
ReplyDeleteWho sang the starlight ashes into this tray of morning?
Gorgeous imagery!
Great questions posed . . . and nicely handled throughout
ReplyDelete