works of wanderlust

Tag: poem

  • iced windows

    cold draft, I shiver
    and firm up my will
    sunrise view obscured
    through ice on the sill

    sub-thirty degrees
    beyond two glass panes
    breach fortress of warmth
    amid frosted plains

    one finger to glass
    turns frost into tears
    releasing brief drops
    from chill winters fears

    raw radiant chill
    bracing, brisk and bold
    I draw shut the blinds
    and hide from the cold

    - bardo

    It has been thirty degrees below zero for three nights in a row, meaning that as even as we shut up the house each night and snuggle into the warmth of our beds, the chill creeps through the cracks and turns the windows into sheets of frost.

    I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.

  • squall

    Inverted silhouettes of trees in the fog.

    as the door clicked shut
    my headlamp broadcast a stark beam
    slicing a path through the winter dark

    as I took my first steps
    my watch reached skyward for a signal
    tracking my pace across the icy walks

    as I started to run
    my face caught the sudden rush of wind
    sensing the winter air stirring ahead in the park

    as I felt the sleet
    my skin braced to the bluster crescendo
    wincing at sudden needles of assaulting ice

    as I turned back
    my heart sunk at the lost moment
    pondering my fortunes timing for not departing earlier

    - bardo

    I set out at about 730pm last night for a short evening run. From the time I shut the door to the time I warmed up my watch and started running, a rare winter storm, a blustery squall, had descended upon us and the still evening streets turned to sleet-pelted wind tunnels ... all without warning. It was all I could do to retreat back to the house as I was hammered with sleet.

    I have reserved some space on this blog each week to write some fiction, poetry, or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.

  • boundary

    I am not a poet, but a friend has inspired me to read more of it and think more critically about its place in the constellation of my creative pursuits. Occasionally, I’d like to post a poem here when inspiration strikes.

    boundary
    demarcated by strict panels of hewn lumber
    set against remnant forest
    clinging to a river edge
    and
    traced between the trees
    a path
    serpentine cut through snow-covered scrub
    bracing a tizzy of birdsong
    against a distant whir of highway traffic
    muffled by branches reaching for sunlight
    bare in the january chill
    and
    traced between the trees
    footprints
    packing a temporary record into the snow
    recalling a moment or a hundred like it
    inspired to ignore one more
    boundary

    -bardo