On the cold days when all warmth seems to fall asunder I seek out the deep depths of my wardrobe to plunder One of the best blessings from Christmas past: warm sweater To keep the frost from my bones during winter’s wonder.
For some a warm blanket might seem a choice far better Or a towel from the dryer when things are wetter; still, I do feel there is nothing else that I could know To be as warm and cozy as once gift wrapped sweater.
So on a frosty morn with coffee in hand I show This ugly sweater that they once gave me years ago. Yes, I will join them under a blanket warmed with love But that warmth fills my heart. I can take both kinds to go.
If you see me with February reindeer don’t shove Me out of your mind with coarse fashionista’s glove. I do not wear this as a fashion faux-pas blunder. I wear it because it warms me with both wool and love.
“February Sweater” by The Distracted Pastor, 2019
I wrote this poem for the dVerse poetry form rubaiyat challenge. We were invited to reflect on our writing process. I was thinking about the prompt offered by Frank Hubeny in the comment of “vortex.” I did not want to go straight into the vortex as I somewhat covered my feelings on the polar vortex with my blogs on “Ice” and the angry poem about that groundhog.
I started to think about the polar vortex and the cold that filled our home despite our best efforts last week. I thought about how nice it was to be warm, but that most forms of being warm were transient. Despite the subzero temperatures, the sweaters I wore did keep me warm wherever I went. I didn’t look very fashionable, but I was warm.
So, in many ways this was an ode to both those awful Christmas sweaters and to the kids who made sure I had warm clothes to wear. I enjoyed writing it even as it wandered around from one quatrain to the next. I guess, in a sense I am grateful for the kids, the sweaters, and for the prompt for happy contemplation.
If you were wondering, I do own an actual wardrobe. No, I haven’t found Narnia… yet…
There is a time for every matter under heaven. There is a time for challenge and a time for winter. There is a time for difficulty and a time for tears. There is a time for brokenness and a time for loneliness. There is a time for solitude and a time for silence. There is a time for every matter under heaven, so why be jealous of those whose tears are yet to come? Why be envious of those who will know broken days? Why wish to be those who have had perfect days? There is a time for every matter under heaven…
Tomorrow will come And all will be different, So breathe through the pain.
Today I wrote a poem in response to quadrille challenge #72 on the Poets’ Pub at dVerse. I wrote the poem while having a cup of green tea, despite the words of the poem. Given the fact that I am baking stuffed potatoes in the other room, it is surprising that they didn’t make their way into the quadrille.
The challenge is to write a forty four word poem. I based my poem on a 44 letter poem I wrote based on the unitoum form, although it is not officially a unitoum as it is only three stanzas long. As a result, the related quadrille is not a proper pantoum, but does have the neat feature of having the letters in the last word adding up to 44 letters in a 44 word poem. I like the symmetry of that construction. In honesty, I personally enjoy the 44 letter poem more than I like the resulting quadrille.
Steep and Steep
Black leaves steep. Pour out Your Pot of fragrant tea. Fill your mug now.
As you sip your Tea think about life. Go slowly now. Ponder things and drink
Think about your life While there is Still time to drink And switch life up.
This somonka is meant to be read as conversation between two lovers (alternating between bold and regular type) until the third voice enters in (in italics). What treasure awaits when these lovers are united?
I rest here alone I wait where few find the way I wait in the cold Nobody finds the still path no one turns my rusty key
I come my lovely! I seek you across the miles. You alone I seek. No one will still my sore feet Until you rest in my arms!
Come find me quickly! I grow weary of this place Where no one sees me. I keep something just for you– Deep inside with my desires.
No one can stop me! Here I am after so long. Did you wait for me? Let me draw you close and sigh As I smile and end my quest
Turn my key my love! Open the way to my heart! Twist and turn and pull! Pull open that which binds me! Come and find your heart's desire!
I will, my sweet one! Here I come to seek inside Places I long sought... Oh bliss, can it be? My love... My chest of old comic books!
Honey, are you there? Your mom says dinner is soon. What is that you have? Seriously? More comics? No, they're not graphic novels
Hold me close, my love. Touch me with your gentle hands. Carry me back home! She will never understand! She's just like your mom once was...
Gusts pierce old windows As I enter cold kitchen. The new year still creaks. Calendars change as snow falls. Aromatic tea wakes bones.
Silent draft reminds: You are blessed to be so warm! Howling wind reminds: Halloween is not scary Compared to homeless winter!
Poem crafted in response to Quadrille Challenge #71 by dVerse. I am currently decompressing from preparing for Sunday’s Annual Meeting at the church I serve by using the creative side of my brain. Too much analysis and planning leaves my creative side in need of expression. There are worse things to do at your desk while enjoying a sandwich and cup of tea!