The green always hardens over time. Tries to deflect the wind and rain,
but no barrier it puts up can beat them for long.
The voice is blue now, the kisses cool.
Let it sleep until the sun rises.
Tag: ice
Peach Stone
1.
Inside, it’s cold. The density
causes ice to vomit from my mouth,
fingernails blue up to the cuticles.
If I were to examine my chest,
open my flesh and push apart my ribs,
would I see a ball of obsidian
or a fleshy, ripe peach?
2.
With you, the limbs of the tree are always
bent with fruit
no matter if the middle of winter
grasps at its bark. Soft, plump, nourishing.
I can always pick how much I want,
cook it up and make sweet crumble
to warm our bellies.
Crisp foot prints
Our steps crunch together
as we walk in time
across the frosted snow.
You hold my hand as I skid
over a frozen drain,
I clutch yours as you trip
over hidden tree roots.
The cold air doesn’t stop
our laughter from skittering about
the park and on into the wind,
gliding across the ocean.
Our cheeks are rosy, smiles wide,
as our feet lead us home.
Snow
And I can see those crystal smiles
flaking through the sky, passing here, staying there,
skipping over to those outstretched fingers
only to blush and shy away.
Replacing it, the older brother,
hammering down to flood the ground,
standing rigid and smooth
even against steady feet.
Water Nymph
Sometimes I think I’m water.
Well, technically a substantial portion of me is,
but I’m talking about,
you know,
free flowing water.
The kind that freezes when it’s cold,
or pools in shallow dips when it rains,
hangs around in the air
to fluff up
that girl’s neatly straightened hair.
Except it isn’t my form that changes.
It’s my mood,
my entire attitude
to life.
I’m not complaining, just
observing really.
Once I thought it’d be good to be fire.
Then the wind caught my candle
and blew it out.
Fairy dance
Do you remember the dancing fairies
from Fantasia?
The ice skating ones, who carve all those lacy designs
on the pond with their toes?
Yes, those ones. Think we could ever
do something like that? Map out our life
on frozen water?
Maybe not on frozen water.
Why not?
Because it’s so still, but life never is.
Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.
Well, now you have.
Extract from my current WIP
I don’t usually write poems or songs in my books, but this time the story called for one. And as this blog features quite a lot of my poetry, I thought I’d share it. To put it in context, it gives a vial clue for my characters to find something:
‘And when the snows begin to ease
On mountains high, with cool breeze
Look out to the peaks every morn
From which the ice sparrows are drawn
And watch them duck and dive
Until upon the floating cities they arrive,
Stealing crystals for their nests,
Those naughty sparrows, dragon’s pests.
Treeshallow Musings 