Thursday, June 02, 2005

cold, bitterest of colds

cold, bitterest of colds,
I stand outside the warmth of everyone
and wait.
Yawning, the cold ignites my gag reflex
and I cough wildly.
It looks as though I'm on fire
as the steam pours from my mouth.
I continue to wait.

cold, bitterest of colds,
January trees stand outside,
their branches shocked white
from the cold.
They look dead,
standing together
making this field (any field in January)
a cemetery,
a collection of the dead, white, branches.

We stand together,
the trees and I,
in this cold.
No longer alone,
I feel that we can face this element.
We can stand upon this frosted ground
and not let the cold overrun our bodies.
Together, we are immune from this disease,
and it will not spread
as long as we stick together.


TwistedNoggin said...

I can read a lot of personal stuff into that - must just be the haunting undertone.

Nice one.

transience said...

it seems melancholy at the onset, but it actually ends on a hopeful note. well done!

Pincushion said...

'I stand outside the warmth of everyone
and wait.'
This line jumped out at me..sad, soulful and in Trans here..I liked the gradual climax to hope :)

Have a great weekend!

Liam Wilkinson said...

Thanks so much for the fantastic comments on my blog. I'm glad you like the poems. And I really like this poem - 'standing outside the warmth of everyone' is an incredible image.

Have a nice weekend.

iamnasra said...

When I read the music I fell in love with music that I heard trhough your poem...when I read cold, bitterest of colds
Your poem sent me a bit of that cold to my land where it feel that we are burning in fire

Shubhodeep said...

hi...just discovered your blog...loved the stuff you've written...really fabulous I think...Cheers!

by the way, would you mind reading and commenting on some of my undiscovered poems at