November Poems
Some poems brought about by the canon event of November angst, though ever mingled with hope, love, beauty, and the certainty that Life prevails.
November Just when I think you can't drag me down any further, you pull me up From out of the cold Roughly, by the collar With tender hands. Fill my lungs with wood smoke Its sweet, dark, gritty comfort And my ears with music, A song for the weary heart That only few can hear. Those who've bared their hearts To the freezing nights And steely mornings, We reap splendid sunrises in exchange for the sharpness of the cold. And when the first snow falls, It's us who are baptised By silvery fingers, soft winter kisses. / My hollows are filled with dreamscapes and rage And reservoirs of exhaustion that I spill on a page Get up out of bed, step into your life But I'm standing on nothing but the edge of a knife And that l'appel du vide is a powerful thing Some days I waver and start to tilt in But it's anger and love and resolute hope That anchor me still to my worn earthly bones I look in the mirror and punch holes in the glass To feel shards in my knuckles, to feel something at last And I'm manic, all coming loose at the seems I should get out of bed, I should cut myself free And I'll leave, and go live out West, by the sea Dusk, on the ocean, will at last bring me peace. / Tell me about September, about October Were they vivid- do they linger? And what now of November? What fingerprints will it leave on you, blazing and cold From frigid hands and firy cheeks Warm breath, laced with the desperate urge to survive The zenith of decay I feel myself coming undone My soul is a cedar forest and it’s logging season Lumberjacks in their blood soaked flannel and sharpened pickaxes, hacking at my heart The days that drag on, grey to red to grey again. / Sunrise and sunset Glow, vivid and spectacular Lifting me to their searing heights Where art overcomes the atmosphere Throwing shining rays of red and gold Twisting and splayed on a backdrop of blue Softest wisps of pink and lilac Gilded mist on vibrant hues Laying long and low on distant horizons Both east and west of where I stand All around, I crane my neck At the earthly miracle that lies at hand A solace. A fleeting breath of beauty. A reminder that some hope still burns Through the cold purgatory of November Light lies just beyond the next turn. At dawn, I reach my homestead A refuge on the frontier Of steely grey days, and dark unyielding nights At dusk I soak in my reprieve. / Leftover birch leaves Raindrops on my eyelashes November, save me. Californian Sunset. Pink, peach, honeycomb. Peaceful sky of rest.
those haikus at the end are gorgeous ❤