Once upon a time, when the world was young, and I was happily digging away as an archaeologist, I used to write poetry- I even had some published under another name, another life ago!!
Every now and again I have a ‘poetry hit’, when my brain gives me no choice at all but to sit and write a poem. These moments are not that frequent these days, so when they happen I relish them.
Sometimes my poems are truly awful, but sometimes they are ok. I rarely share them- but my daughter liked this one and has badgered me to be brave put it on my blog- and it does involved being brave. Somehow sharing poetry feels so much more personal then sharing a story. So do me a favour- if you think this is truly awful- don’t tell me!!!
The Winter King
(copyright Jenny Kane 2013)
From out of the dark came the voice.
Raw and vulgar, a coarse frozen authority.
A chill sound echoing off the horizons edge.
Varnished in ice, a sharp cornered accent.
The Winter King sweeps across his domain.
Crystal claws etch the ground, the sky.
Trees; stark naked, shiver against his force,
As with gossamer silence, he creeps boldly forward.
Invading; remodelling each silvering panorama,
Embellishing his hold on the dark-white season.
Grey and ghostly, swathed as if in smoke,
The bleak glacial land is cold without barrier.
A frigid lustre shines hard against black waters.
Until it’s splintered, ice broken, shattered.
As the season Master throws his bolts of glass.
On snow battered chariots, he dominates the air.
His breath frozen before him, suspended in time.
Crackling against the fragile earth, all powerful,
Vengefully robbing the land of warmth and comfort,
Until he is defeated by the joyous dance of Spring.
Keep warm out there,