Words in Winter

 

Words In Winter Celebrations 2008

1 - 31 Aug 2008

 Take 2 (thank you keef)

 

Pregnant bellies are so evident all about town more than ever, looking radiant, I wonder, do they swell at this time of year, extra, as if coddling triplets, or at least twins? Filled fuller with local hopes, the trickling springs recharging, recharging, as we dream by fires, our words of winter.  

Watery fingers are busy seeping disrobing the trees down to soft pink blushing skins, right before mainly blinded eyes, Look up, their limbs and arms interlock and shimmer scarlet, no attentions payed to their wraps hanging   free  about the base of their trunks, and how they blossom almost inconsequently.

Somewhat of an orgy is going on about these parts, natures serenaded by the arts. Crazy crazy with the words of winter, that we would build a fire so big it melts the misty rain almost chilled to dry papery crystals, and we shelter our backs with more layers of wool than any local sheep. Strike chords and sing till warm to the core, gifting voice to voice as if making love with the exchanges, deep, sultry, heavenly pitched, and ohh yes yes so meaningful. Spoken word in deliverance, scented with cloves and smoke and moss, released dangling off chords floated on harmonies.

As all the lights go out and wine glasses sit smudged and empty and lemon and honey sits still lingering on now quiet lips, I want you to know as the candles are all blown out, and the fire flickers gentle with resting ambience. No matter how beautiful this town seems for all the words of winter bought here to rest till spring, no matter how many artists fill the street and all the cafes.. I just know, it could be just that little bit of something more magical, just that little more, and one day all the art with heart will sigh in unison all the words of winter and I’ll be left feeling somewhat complete, and I will know without doubt I’m home.   

 

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http://www.hepburnshire.com.au/Calendar/calendar.asp

 

Reviews

[Nan]

You are so lyric as to make prose sound like free verse. I don't get hung
in the paragraph form, no, this is poetry. It has internal rhyme and sings
like music all along.

This is a scene so perfectly painted that it occurs as paradise.
I like how you retrace the steps of time and leave us in the moment
of repose, the description of honeyed lips and wine glasses is superb.
I love being invited into your imagination, thanks for the ride, Di.
and I checked the website- is this where you live?

Hold on, I'll have a ticket in a few months, just a visit, but it sounds
wonderful.

[Forest Green]

A fine daisy-lined journey through thoughts as pleasant and rambling as a meadow.

Fine work..;)

[Gandré]

this is so wonderful, I really needed such a lyrical dream, it is enlarging the scope of poet's freedom and it is something else, real poetry. I am tired to read poetry about misery and being unhappy.. this is my hunger for beauty I likd your winter symbolism technique... and where have you been? I so like you contacted me (thanks for the review) and merry Christmas!

[Michael X]

Di, this has to be one of the finest writings, I loved it, you have not failed to transport the heart to another place and time in ways that make the heart fall in love with a own that it has seen in all its winter splendor, yet the hope for hope that
in the essence of its glory theres still rooom to sparkle, you have not failed to leave me searching for words.

[TL Boehm]

this is deep, beautiful writing...

[Eric]

Exceptional write. Lousy font.

Your second paragraph is absolutely stunning. In fact, it reminds of Annie Dillard's writing in A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek -- and that's one of the highest compliments I can pay.

Even more than the crafting of this piece, I love your ideas. You really have a unique way of thinking that shades the color of your words. Well done, Touchstone.

Eric

[Lizanne]

I absolutely love this piece. A magnificent visual rendering of winters kiss to your town. It speaks of a quality of life that most of us would so envy. It is as if you are making love to winter and enjoying all the amentities of the season. The raging fire, singing, wine...Touche! The perfect writing.

[Keef]

well, i know why you wrote this and it is uplifting - and folksy in a good way. i have suggested some areas where the punctuation and the form might be altered so that this reads in a way that a journal might, without losing the endearing feel. it is your boat though doll.

More than ever it seems, pregnant bellies are so evident all about town with their owners looking radiant and I wonder, do they swell at this time of year extra large, as if coddling triplets, or at least twins? And filled even fuller with local hopes, the trickling springs recharging, recharging, as we dream by fires, our words of winter.

Watery fingers are busy; seeping, disrobing the trees down to soft pink blushing skins, right before mainly blinded eyes. Look up, their limbs and arms interlock and shimmer scarlet, no attentions paid to their wraps, hanging free about the base of their trunks and how they blossom almost inconsequently.

Somewhat of an orgy is going on about these parts, nature is serenaded by the arts. Crazy crazy with the words of winter, that we would build a fire so big it melts the misty rain almost chilled to dry papery crystals, and we shelter our backs with more layers of wool than any local sheep might own. Strike chords and sing till warm to the core, gifting voice to voice as if making love with the exchanges deep, sultry, heavenly pitched, and ohh yes yes so meaningful. Spoken word in deliverance, scented with cloves and smoke and moss released, dangling off chords, floated on harmonies.

As all the lights go out and wine glasses sit smudged and empty and lemon and honey sit, still lingering on now quiet lips, I want you to know that as the candles are all blown out and the fire flickers gently with resting ambience; no matter how beautiful this town seems for all the words of winter brought here to rest till spring, no matter how many artists fill the streets and all the cafes I just know, it could be just that little bit of something more magical - just that little bit more and one day, all the art with heart will sigh in unison all the words of winter. And I'll be left feeling somewhat complete, and I will know without doubt, that I am home.

take it easy down there...

[An owl on the moon]

Everything about this piece drew me in! The soft font highlighted the amazing, vivid flow of the beauty of winter. After a hot day it was very peaceful to read this softly chilled write: "I'll be left feeling somewhat complete, and I will know without doubt I'm home." Amazing write!