A Winter Challenge

[GuiltyPleasure]

Write us a poem about warmth be it a tropical island, a log fire or your favourite pair of flannel jammies. Any form including free. Any length. Easy, huh? Go - write!

 

[butters]

Write us a poem about warmth be it a tropical island, a log fire or your favourite pair of flannel jammies. Any form including free. Any length. Easy, huh? Go - write!

cool challenge *snerk*

will be back with my effort

 

[vrosej10]

breathless heat
a single drop of sweat
trickling down my leg​

I envy you lot where its snowing. It was 33 degree celcius today with 95% humidity here. I nearly blacked out from the heat. I hate the burning thing in the sky. I am so living in the wrong country.

 

[greenmountaineer]

Letter to X in January

There once were geese on the common
That teenage girls would giggle at
Below the sweet breeze sugar maples
When short sleeved boys in dungarees
Chased after them in their puppyhood,
Now full circle in its seventh dog year
As I settle down before the fire.

I never demanded obedience
As Browning, alas, with his duchess did,
And honor is confused, My Dear,
With decorum, as if to ring some bell
To have made us salivate for high tea
Or to have salivated naked
Above the blankets on a three dog night,
Blinded by our original sin.

Contritely now I realize such
A common man I must have been
Who finally knows in this darkest hour
Hell freezes flesh when it’s only desire.

“Love, honor, and obey,” they say.
I would have basked in the warmth minus two,
Even without a dog to pet
Or ever having stoked this fire.

 

[Tzara]

A Short and Fishy Poem for Tess

We were both too warm.
Perhaps our careful layering
Of plastique fleece and cotton yarn
Was what made us sweat.

Or, perhaps, just form—
The way we schooled, like fingerlings,
Bright scales nestled under arm,
Fins enmeshed and wet.


.

 

[drown]

my dearest darling

may i warm you
from as afar
as afar can be...

you know me not
i know you not
but for the roasting words
that sear into our very souls from time to time...

your words
my words
our words

...and then

their words sometimes
that guide us back to our words

your words
my words
and the times between...

may we count on our not knowing each other
just enough
to have for ourselves
what we need of each other
without true consequence
til we agree to it...


if ever we should need to...

i love you.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Oh, this looks promising! Four great contributions so far. Keep 'em coming and thanks to vrose, greenmountaineer, Tzara and drown for their works.

x 4

 

[The_Fool]

I have the urge to write something naughty. Go figure.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

I have the urge to write something naughty. Go figure.

Me too, must be something in the water.

 

[Remec]

The wind chill outside has
nothing on the frost that
lines the empty sheets of
the bed we used to share

I sit before the television,
or the computer, until I
catch myself nodding off
then I lie back and draw
the couch's afghan over
and let the dreams come

Sleep calls to my muses
Who answer, each in turn,
bringing me smiles at memories
of nights full of our hot bodies
mingling together and the heat
we turned into warmth.
-----

 

[CharleyH]

Write us a poem about warmth be it a tropical island, a log fire or your favourite pair of flannel jammies. Any form including free. Any length. Easy, huh?

NOT EASY! Don't forget Christmas is not happy for all of us. Sometimes it reminds us of death, the people we lost, lost tradition, loneliness - it can be a very hard time for some.

Red
Christmas comes, and
Christmas goes
ho, ho, ho

I hang the popcorn round the tree
the camera catches you and me
laughing, having fun
I don't remember, don't recall
that Kodak moment.

I remember laughing, feeling free
when you lived and laughed with me
I said dumb things, quite naive
stupid things
I now regret.

Can I confess I miss you,
when all these years have past
everyone has died and I'm alone
with you at last.

 

[butters]

ice cubes melt
in lazy amber
ice drips
on your tongue
as i melt
back to wall
thighs trembling
cheeks on fire

 

[butters]

ah, forgot i could edit that title out. duh.

i was thinking about 'smokin' or somesuch, but my incorrigible muse keeps suggesting 'bush fire'. i am so gonna slap her.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

The night you were made.

The logs collapse,
sparks rise.
I lean back against him, spine to his ribs,
he wraps me, chin on my shoulder
as if in question.
Our toes play together,
bored to be so out of the loop
but his stubble against my cheek
keeps me alert.
Warmth within and out,
amber liquid reflection of flames
and snow piling at the window.
Cool hands slide in and up
cupping familiar form,
I can’t help it,
I moan and it’s an acceptance
of things to come.

 

[The_Fool]

Alright. I almost posted it. With this tough crowd, better rethink.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Alright. I almost posted it. With this tough crowd, better rethink.

*one eyebrow raised* I'm not going anywhere............

 

[The_Fool]

ice cubes crack
liquid fire chilled
cool to the lips
burn the throat
yield to warmth
as amber liquid
soothes me inside
temporary respite

cold nose, wind-chapped cheeks
turned rose-tinted
whether to chill
embarrassment
or both
doesn't matter
as soft lips touch mine
for that first kiss
on a winter evening
giggles and a tissue
for her nose
make her seem innocent

yet not so innocent
in the night
as we find ourselves stifled by clothes
heat thrown off
by a roaring fire
shiver once
at moonlit snowflakes
silent in the night
sinking slow
outside her midnight window
somehow finding ways to sweat
in the dead of winter

Figuratively a dream
balmy tropical paradise
passion's fruit
seemingly available at whim
sweet succor
afternoon's respite
all too soon the vacation ends
leaving sand in my eyes
no amount of tears
can wash out
sunburn
itching my skin

So I find myself
once again
fire cracking
offering no heat
requiring a tissue
ice cubes crack
break and water
down my emotions

 

[vrosej10]

warm is in your arms
away from harm
on a winter's night
sighing at you caresses
surrounded by your calm
by the night sounds
under to doona with you
there's no place I'd sooner be


( To people not familiar with Aussie slang, a doona is approximately an eiderdown quilt. See this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duvet and this: http://au.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20071102042249AADVBBu )

 

[vrosej10]

Christmas in the south is like holdaying on the mouth of hell
the smell of the barbeque mingling with melting bitumen
and the barbaric bouquet of bushfires
your average Christmas day feels like you're on a pyre
especially when you relatives still stand by the idea of a hot meal
the heat here could make you keel over
or feel so queer that heat stroke seems just a joke
not to mention the quirky tiredness from roast turkey
when its so hot that you sunburn in the shade.
No, a southern christmas is enough to turn you off plum pudding for life.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Oh boy! These are all so interesting......to see all the different approaches and moods.

I have to confess here, Christmas is not my favourite time of year, it's so commercial, I don't even like turkey! The only plus - and it is a big one - is that family and friends gather but then we all eat too much. *sigh*

Thanks to you all for sharing your poems in here.

 

[ninianne]

fever

I am empty
damp
burning up
twisted in the sheets
my neck raw
my body aching

a breeze
cool on my foot
hot in my throat
reaching through the dark

the blinking numbers
etch time into my sore brain
you said you would be back soon
I remember how to
read the clock
I think
maybe

I can’t breathe
the weight in my chest
bubbles
rattles

and I want water
but the floor is too far away
and my legs are too heavy to lift

 

[butters]

^^ you've caught this completely! flu sucks

 

[vrosej10]

I am empty
damp
burning up
twisted in the sheets
my neck raw
my body aching

a breeze
cool on my foot
hot in my throat
reaching through the dark

the blinking numbers
etch time into my sore brain
you said you would be back soon
I remember how to
read the clock
I think
maybe

I can’t breathe
the weight in my chest
bubbles
rattles

and I want water
but the floor is too far away
and my legs are too heavy to lift

Evil, evil flu! I have had about five doses this year and this unpleasantly reminds me of them. Score, good work. Poetry doesn't always have to be pretty. Disturbing is excellent too.

 

[ninianne]

It was a combination of how I feel right now (I have the beginnings of a cold, I think. I hope it's not the flu) and memories of how I felt with pneumonia. With a little DKA thrown in for kicks.

For the past few days the house has been so cold that the only way I could imagine warm was like this.

I like disturbing sometimes.