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Leave Poetry Sad poetry: Winter's Mourn Agony My Creature A Glimpse Rain Drop Pagan poetry: Midsummer Threefold Prayer to Isis Beloved Isis Prayer to Diana Beautiful Brigit Love poetry: Pandora's Hope Seduction Souls' Meet Merging Emotion Others: Morning Greeting Mysteries Submissions: Sing A Song Mother Nature Subtle Lord Submit Poem |
Winter's MournOur Maiden, with dreads, continues her journey. She sits quietly on a bus, looking westward toward the twilight. Her eyes gaze in disillusioned mourning. The day leaves, in a searing fancy of purple and orange. As the sun falls, as eerie darkness pervades, Our Maiden bows her head and cries. The bus has only minimal warmth compared to a summer's day. Now she abandons the warmth. She steps forth into the cold heart of winter, Our Maiden cowers in deprivation. Shivers race down her spine, leaving icicles. Now off the bus, the cold chills her blood. She desires the sunlight, and heat. She looks longingly towards the west, She watches a glaze of deep crave in her eyes. The bus begins to move and leaves. The soft rumbling grows weak in the distance. Her hands run across the frosty, billowing snow. She hurries to pull them inside and she holds herself tight. She remembers with longing the warmth and light left behind. Our Maiden fears. She stands still, bundled and bound in shirts and underclothes, sweaters and coats. In this chilly air and eerie dark, she is unable to see her icy breathe. The moonless sky and speckled stars enhance the dark. Our Maiden darts her eyes back the way she came, Shuts tight her eyes, then Our Maiden darts her eyes forth to where she will go. The moonless sky and speckled stars mock the coming light. In the desolate and empty night, she is unable to see the spanning snow Her layers, abounding, still do not suffice to keep her insides from the chill. Our Maiden hopes. She imagines with longing the warmth and light ahead. She lets down her arms, taking her hands out. Her hands rub and squeeze together. A sound comes from the distance, a soft, intruding rumble. Now the bus reaches her and stops, She watches it, a glaze of deep craving in her eyes. She looks longingly to the east She shuns the frozen darkness. Now on the bus, her blood boils from the heat. The insistent warmth of the bus rushes through her body. Our Maiden advances, fortunate. She steps further to the pervading heat on the bus. Now she abandons the cold entirely. The bus, she knows, will warm her and take her forth into the day. Our Maiden raises her head in anticipation As the sun rises and the radiant light penetrates. The day comes, in a stunning array of pinks and oranges. Her eyes gaze, longing, at the first sign of morning. She sits quietly on a bus looking eastward toward the dawn. Our maiden eagerly continues her journey. -Christina |
