With the arrival of autumn we are all set for change. And that change is no more obvious than the change of foliage from green to various stages of color as these leave decay in preparation for winter’s biting cold. We can feel the cooling begin in earnest and it won’t be long before it takes full hold of the season.
The first in this series, you are asked to write a “cold” poem in whatever that dictates to you. Cold temperatures, cold shoulder, cold opening … write your poems as you see fit and then chill!
And remember, today begins our Poem-A-Day Challenge Warm-up. A two-week jaunt into poetry. Stay tuned tomorrow for the next installment. Same poetic time, same poetic blog!
MARIE’S COLD GRIP:
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
WALT’S CHILLY RECEPTION:
NIGHT SHADOWS FALL COLDLY
Day will pass in its allotted time, while hay made as the sun shines, lingers. May the world know night’s toils in this rhyme, saying all that a heart desires. Fingers curl to grasp the cold and darkened shroud, frost descends to cover lovers avowed. Nature’s time stamp, to be trampled upon. Hurl the pall so all can call out loud, kissed by winter’s shadow so endowed.
moon set horizon
vanishes as mourning comes
night’s death brings on day
© Walter J Wojtanik, 2018
130 thoughts on “DAY 1 – AUTUMNAL P.A.D. CHAPBOOK EXERCISE: COLD”
I’ve decided to submit this finished collection for publication, which means each poem is “Protect” with a password. Publishers don’t like to accept previously published work, which includes blogs, etc. The password is submit should you wish to read it. The link is https://wp.me/p7ofDB-Tw
Okay, 3 things.
First, I didn’t know you could password-protect individual content on a blog. That is SUPER good to know! You are wise for doing so!
Second: I love that you are going to submit your finished chapbook for publication, and can’t wait to see how that goes! ROCK ON, MISK!
Third: WOW. Your poetic mind boggles mine. This poem is a must-read-again. So amazing, you just leave me shaking my head in awe.
Okay, I lied. 4 things. 😉
Last: All the best for your publication submission. I’ll want to purchase the finished product when it IS published!
Misky…Wow! So much to take in with images that pop. Thank you for sharing!
Didn’t know we could “Protect” our work…will have to investigate this!
Thank you. 😀
Much success to you with that Marilyn. We’ll come around to read and enjoy your work as always. I am so glad you think this project worthy of that. Glad and honored.
I’m flying back to Seattle this week so even though I’ll go silent I’m hoping to keep writing throughout.
We’ll miss you. Safe travels!
Yes. A safe voyage to you, Marilyn. We’re open all the time, so catching up if necessary is always an option. W
wow! this is so moving.
Misky, this piece, like your last, evokes such emotion and imagery. And a gentle love that seems to hide in each line. Beautiful.
Left a message on the protected site. I know your submission will be amazing. Good luck!
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And to my partner: Your haibun example for us is beyond lovely. The haiku, well, a “wish I’d written this.”
I’m sure you’ve used each and every one of those words before, so I guess we’ve all written that! 😃 thank you.
You’re a sweety. Thank you. A lot of my work is published with Ten Penny Players and Waterways, Poetry in the Main Stream, which is a charity that helps support children and adults with special needs. The funding comes through annual subscriptions for their monthly chapbooks. There’s a very interesting article on wikipedia about them at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waterways:_Poetry_in_the_Mainstream
Misk, I am intrigued and awed by this. I didn’t know it existed. Thank you for letting us know.
OBSERVATIONS FROM AN AUTUMN WALK
promote two behaviors:
closing overcoats and rising
William, this is short, sweet and to the point! Well done!
What the lady said! Just like autumn in western New York, Bill, short and sweet!
Right on the money with this one, William. I like the briefness of it.
Marie and Walt, your poems are almost like bookends for me. One uses few words to create a picture; the other uses many words to sing a song The whole has a hand-in-glo9ve effect, for me anyway. Thanks..
We’ve always sort of been hand in glove since ‘09. That’s part of our charm. And the f t that we keep coming back to do this tells your how much we enjoy each other and our connection. Thank you.
Oh how cool! I didn’t think of it that way, Bill. But now that you said it, well, it’s just cool. And what Walt said. 😉
William’s comment is so apt for you both and this site. Love both of your winter beginnings!
Thank you! ❤
Such beauty to wake to, Marie and Walt! Thank you for starting us off so eloquently. Here’s my attempt:
As a heavy wet fog laid hold of the land,
its icy fingers dropped low to
wrap around trees, fields and homes.
Snuggled warmly beneath flannel,
we woke unaware of changes,
raising shades, we saw
the Master Artist’s work,
left to dry as the sun climbed
high over the mountain to highlight
crimson, gold and burnt orange,
splashed across field and mount
with an abandon that only a Master
would dare, let alone achieve.
(c) 2018 Linda M. Rhinehart Neas
I can’t describe the beauty you’ve presented this morning as well, Linda. Such a wonderful depiction of this vignette. Great imagery!
Oops…missed this correction, “the Master Artist’s work,”
Leaves me breathless, Linda. (And in a moment, I will log in t0 make your correction for you.)
So beautiful, that first full day of autumn’s beauty
Lovely, descriptive and reading it I breathed in the peace of the Master Artist.
Gorgeous imagery, Linda!
As for the protected offerings on your blog, I found in the quick edit (on WordPress) giving the option of setting to either privat or setting a password. So yes, I guess you can password protect your content.
Not a lovely start for me. May retry after a big coffee. But here goes
There are ten dozen reasons to complain.
The tomato plant that never bloomed. Who
could have guessed aging would be such a pain?
One night it’s hot as a baby’s bath, two
days of blistering winds, and now too cold.
I need a mountain of pills to function.
The crud in the shower looks like black mold.
Vote-for-me ads spew acid and unction
in almost equal parts. I want to scream.
What’s going to happen after the seas rise
and every microbe has a plastic core?
The end of the world is no Facebook meme:
It came in an SUV, with large fries.
It came with It’s Cool Inside on the door.
Wow, I can feel the frustration here. Well said.
Goodness yes! Barbara, I do have to wonder if there is anyone out there with a better and more smartly creative ability to word emotion, and pair with word-imagery. You wow me.
You pinned down with great skills things I hate about fall
Your perspective is always very telling and most welcome. I take a lot from your writings (no, I don’t plagiarize your work 😉 ) But I enjoy it very much. And put on another sweater!
Can’t beat those last two lines!
First the cold.
Now the rain
I’d wished for.
Glad you peeked back in. Let the rain fall and the washing begin!
A bit bass ackward, isn’t it?
Short and sweet.
It’s cold outside.
The wind blows past my ears.
Head down, I quicken my long stride.
My cheeks sting and I blink away my tears.
Clouds hide the sun.
Leaves scrunch beneath my feet.
The season’s work will soon be done.
Reds, oranges, golds, are all in full retreat
And winter’s snow gives chase.
And winter’s snow gives chase.
Connie, repeating your final line is poetically and emotionally effective. NICE!
This reminds me of growing up in Northern Maine or my time in Japan and Germany. Not so now that we’re retired in Florida. We don’t really have a fall down here, but it’s nice to be reminded or what it once was like.
Rings of “…and miles to go before I sleep.” Give this a wonderful cadence. Your depiction of the cold weather is spot on. Well done, Connie.
Nice work, Connie.
The cold that wakes
In September wanders
Through life’s classrooms, weeding dead leaves
Happy memories wax and wane with time
On children’s waiting hearts
Wavering, departs for a day
Wrestles with the inevitable end
Weary, decides to rest
Welcoming the warmth of heavenly rays
“Writing lessons on children’s waiting hearts” … Oh my, this strikes the heart. So nicely done, Darlene.
There are two things I’m a sucker for in the poetic process. A big fan of rhymr and equally of alliteration. You wield that so well here. Thank you, Darlene.
and on a rather silly note, Ice cream’s cold goodness
Goes down well on evenings
Round a rousing fire
I’m sure my husband can relate! Great word picture here!
And this one has me smiling! I would wholeheartedly agree!
Marie and Walt: Great starters. You know, of course, that there are so many ways to take this challenge, as has been proven by those that have already posted. Should be a very interesting two weeks.
We went our own way
He gave all
We give nothing
He reached out
We turned away
He shed a tear
We didn’t care
He never left us
We turned a cold shoulder
He never forsook us
We never accepted Him
Now we stand alone
Waiting for something
To warm our souls
We are the fallen
And we cannot get back up
Earl, this is FABULOUS. Your title is brilliant for it. Downright inspired, I’d say. And I’ll just add my humble amen.
Brilliant contrast. “And we cannot get back up without Him.” Amen!
Relying on you to bring such wisdom and spirituality to this place, Earl. Your poem is quite special on its own merit, but enhanced by the above. (Thanks to the Above.) Yes, it will be an interesting two weeks.
Earl, this was great, a full realization of the grace we are offered. Shivering is the perfect picture of man’s lostness.
In Preparation of Change
Fall has given summer the cold shoulder
Turned its back on swim-suits and flip flops
And is cuddled up in a sweater of vibrant
Yellows and mellow oranges
Fall marches to the beat of a slower drum
A little solemn – maybe a bit more serious
It revels in cozy get-togethers
Leaving behind the rowdy party goers who
Worshiped the sun
Fall wraps itself in a knitted blanket –
Stockpiles books, preparing for change
It lights a pumpkin spice candle and sighs
as days become shorter, colder
Candy, there is so much imagery and mood here, from title to finish. Well done!
Smiling at this. Sounds like you know how to manage fall, Candy!
Just love that opening stanza, Kim!
Candy, I’m such a sucker for the personification of seasons. Loved this.
Love the personification of the seasons.
air was cold
could not see
of your thoughts.
Darn! that should be ‘your’….. 😦
Hit me in the gut Marjory. Beautiful.
Thank you Linda
Thank you bunches. 🙂
Oh my. You captured that pain, using so few words.
🙂 Am challenging myself to use the same form the whole two weeks.
WOW! GO MARJORY!
OOoh, this cuts to the bone. A powerful little piece here, Marjory.
Marjory, this was beautiful. How simply honest.
Ice Man Cometh
Ice Man cometh, so cold
his heartbeats sound
like icicles breaking. Lips
like blue ice floes. Frost
flows from his breath. Streets
freeze on impact with a touch
of his soles. Popular in Summer,
Ice Man’s talents take a hit
in Winter, except for ice skaters.
“his heartbeats sound like icicles breaking ”
WOW! Incredibly descriptive!
Just got back – to my sister’s – from downtown Portland. I think your Ice man is challenging the wonderful sunshine we had today. Like your poem.
You have to be on the lookout, and cool breeze for the Iceman.
That iceman is nothing a good Zamboni couldn’t fix! I love the descriptiveness of this poem, CH1. Nicely done, Sara.
Thanks, Walt. Think I’ll be off zamboning!
Sara, I an ready for this character to appear any day now, and welcome him. This was fun.
He will be around before you know it! Thanks, Damon.
“frost flows from h is breath” and “take a hit in winter, except for…”
Thanks so much, story!
I love the variety and quality of your poems Marie and Walt!
OLD AND COLD
Though I am bold,
now when its cold
my joints won’t fold
because I’m old.
Oh no! Linda! LOL! So cute, despite the subject matter. 😉 (And thank you!)
I can really identify! Well done
Thanks Linda. Sorry if I don’t think you old. (Although I can relate to the cold and its effects)
Ha, Linda! Between my joints and my blubber, I can’t decide which season to prefer!
The Common Cold
“A family is a unit composed not only of children but of men, women, an occasional animal, and the common cold.” ― Ogden Nash
Ogden Nash had a point, when he told,
“Families are composed of: (see list)
men and women. They also consist
of kids and pets, and virus and mold –
and when you sneeze they grow tenfold.
Oh Lord, it’s futile to even resist.
It sucks. Achoo! The common cold.
So, when you cross that ol’ threshold,
please understand. You’ll co-exist
with pathogens. You get the gist.
Sans Ogden Nash, ‘twas still foretold.
First hug, then cough. The common cold.
Welcome, welcome, welcome! So good to have your brilliant mind grace us again!
Luv me sum Ogden Nash, and do you ever do him justice! Got me LOLing!
Oh, how I’ve missed your brilliance, Randi. A fan of Nash, so this struck my fancy. Not a fan of the common cold. I’m still not quite sold!
Love this, RJ. Good to see you again.
RJ!! what fun, this common family fact. Well done, and welcome.
The fall of the year my heart thrills to see
the leaves glimmer orange on our maple tree
Vibrant color too quickly shall pass,
spurred on by the season’s windy cold blasts.
Leaf will brown, crumble and fall
from the tree now majestic, beautiful, tall.
Autumn’s shortened days and colorful delights
will disappear in winter’s long cold nights.
A beauty here again, Shelley. Love the rhyme through this.
Shelly, I too bemoan the learning of the leaves. at least me have the memories.
The color certainly does pass too quickly! Lovely little poem, Shelly! The beauty is all right there!
I am not living
the life I imagined.
This one is far better.
I’m on a path which
I never anticipated.
Sometimes it’s cold,
but even then,
it’s pretty cool.
Need to Breathe
The front that came–
the line that sliced the map,
southwest to northeast,
sliding sliding sliding over–
It came, it went,
a thin and fickle layer,
what I had hoped was cold relief
some air that I could breathe
without consuming a
mouthful of mosquitos
or a gasp of the haze
of one long bad summer day,
a humidity of desperate
The crisp, the clean
the ease of colder air
Instead the thick
the insistent need to breathe,
with no relief in sight.
© Damon Dean, 2018
Damon, you have just described my worst nightmare, and you did it in a way that is actually quite beautiful in spite of it all! Well, at least it would be my worst one if it lasted too long. I am not a hot/humid/mosquito-y kind of gal. Nope. Not at all. I don’t like to feel like I’m breathing soup. Come on up to NW Ohio and breathe in the mid-thirties to upper-fifties, sunny days! I’ll ladle out the hot cider, and Keith will put a fire in the fire pit. 😀
May take y’all up on that one day… Becky and I are road ramblers.
Mare, loved your penchant, finally caught my muse too.
Walt, I for one here in balmy Arkansauna,
will kiss this winter back.
Here’s my 2nd attempt since Connie reminded me (us) about the points of the ‘fall’ challenge.
Cold White Smoke
I sweep just cold white smoke today,
the leaves too wet to burn in orange rage
while long late sunset shadows splay
across the yard. They tell the day its age.
The sky is dark enough now,
some few early stars appear,
and as a tear,
a smoke encouraged tear,
falls down my face,
I tell myself that stars don’t fall.
Now or then up from the leafy heap,
amid the smouldering fire of hidden fears,
from silent ashes, glimmers from my heart will leap
and cast a glow on falling salty streams.
I stare at pulsing embers, glowing deep.
I know that you are somewhere in the world
I hope not hurt, not wanting–oh, not dead–
I pray God’s grip is tight around you,
fingers gently, firmly curled.
When we again meet face to cautious face,
what words will you, will I, dare say?
What will pass between us?
A civil trace of courtesy,
a proper hug,
a barely rehearsed play?
I want to burn it all, today,
the fallen brown debris of our harsh winter winds.
When we finally meet,
at some open door,
there should be no cold white smoke in our way.
A daughter and her dad should freely breathe
and freely see
and freely say
what words burn in the embers of our heart.
(c) Damon Dean, 1996, Rev. 2018
I can hardly find the words to respond to this piece, Damon. I’m all choked up.
“I tell myself that stars don’t fall.”
This says it all.
Written a long time ago, shortly after a divorce and a time when we were all broken and hurting– my daughters, my first wife, and me. Cold smoke seemed then to epitomize the vague uneasy silent air, the unmeasurable distance, between us all.
By the grace of God, the air has been cleared w the breezes of forgiveness.
Forgiveness is an amazing thing. God’s grace, indeed.
Just revised it with additional stanza using words from the initial theme poem.
A beautifully sensitive poem. I like the line about stars don’t fall, but also ” the fallen down debris of our harsh winter winds”
Into the cold darkness, another whispered plea
to the God who loves me, hears, knows, and sees.
Tears fall from tired eyes as I flee,
to the One I need
to set memory
To the prick of the needle, the poison that calls,
I beg, plead Him to prevent a big fall.
Will He silence body’s recall?
Afraid, alone, so small,
On God I fall
with my all.
My Father’s ear listens, is attuned to my voice.
I begin to recount truth, to rejoice.
Christ gives strength, in Him are true joys.
His Word destroys lie’s noise,
enables my choice
Amen. So much completeness in your poem. “Will He silence body’s recall?” Yes, I pray. ❤
Thanks, Marie. For the encouragement and prayers.
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