|Image from Our Lady of Disgrace|
Not much in nature
Is as cruel as winter’s frigid razor.
How it shaves away slivers of frostbitten flesh
And floats its massive, ice-white daggers
Just out of sight,
Slicing steel, scalpel precise.
How it grows in arctic procreation,
To vast, smothering sheets,
Entire continents trapped beneath them.
And freezing the motion
Out of every hot molecule.
Wicked Old Man Winter sits atop a blizzard for a throne,
Throws down his endless, blinding, frosty plight
And smiles a shivering grin.
Cold death rains down from the slushy marrow
Of his frozen bones.
Mortals below bundle and shake
In frosted subjugation.
And with the spring melt,
Willing and grudgeless.
Older than history
He knows his time will come again.
Winter just seems like it his a bad disposition to me. I think my inspiration really came from the title of a movie, Winter's Bone, which is great! Also, Black Sabbath has a song, Snowblind, that really uses some dark winter metaphors. Music is always a huge inspiration to my poems. I shunned it at first, but I think I may just bill myself as the metal blogging poet. Metal has inspired my greatly... lately. Submitted for The Thursday Think Tank #74.