Midnight Flurry
Snow fall at night,
So crisp and white
Beneath the silent streetlight –
This won’t last.
It falls in hush,
And looks so lush,
Yet is tomorrow’s mush
That melts too fast.
A brand-new gown
Upon the town
That won’t be buttoned-down,
But be off-cast.
Let’s take the chance
For one more glance
At the velvet-soft expanse,
Before it’s passed.
Winter Lows
Ev’ry time the waves of tired
Leave me drained and uninspired,
The nagging fear I just can’t shake
Is will I ever get to feel awake ?
Ev’ry time a freeze sets in,
I shiver in my fragile skin,
And all that I can think of then,
Is will I ever be made warm agen ?
Afterpour
The mud is underfoot again,
The garden paths awash with grime –
But now the sky has stopped the rain,
It must be snail time.
The birds are nowhere to be seen,
The leaves are dripping from the lime –
And yet, the air is fresh and clean –
It must be snail time.
They come out of their hiding,
Sliding over puddles millimetres deep,
While wearing their umbrellas –
Soggy dwellers on their slow and silent sweep.
Where do they shade when the Sun is out ?
Where do they hunker in the drought ?,
While waiting for the showers
That empowers them to wake up from their sleep.
The worms are up upon the lawn,
The garden ants are on the climb,
The clouds are brightening, like dawn –
It must be snail time.
Wash Day
It’s raining outside my kitchen window,
And raining inside my washing machine.
The drizzle soaks as the drum turns slow,
Both giving their world a clean.
But the revs are building as the downpour splashes
And the glass is pelted by each,
Till the spinning thunders as the lightning crashes
With the white light bringing the bleach.
Till things settle down as we wait for the clunk
That unlocks both the door and the sky.
And the scent is fresh and freed from the funk,
As we hang them each out to dry.
Too Many Winks
Some nights, I swear I wake up far more tired
Than when I went to sleep
As if my dreaming mind is overfired
With all the thoughts that leap.
I blame the Moon, who’s too full and romantic,
Sending me his glow –
He makes my nightly visions so gigantic,
Putting on a show.
Some nights, I swear I live a year inside,
Upon my sweated bed.
All Summer long, with blinds and windows wide –
But nothing cools my head.
I blame the Moon, who’s far too round and bright
And keeps my slumbers stressed.
I need to hang some curtains, dim his light,
To get some proper rest.
Accessories at Large
To the gloves that leapt from my pocket,
To the brolly that stayed on the train –
You wanted freedom, so go out and rock it !
We never shall meet again.
I hope you’re not in the gutter,
Or locked in the lost-and-found –
For why should my loss be turned into clutter,
That benefits no-one around ?
I hope you are roaming distant lands,
Passed-on as your comfort spreads –
I hope you are warming worthier hands,
And sheltering fairer heads.
Free Zing
February can’t say farewell
Without one final trap –
A week of warm, then a week of hell,
And the bitter cold goes snap.
Winter can never yield to Spring
Without a parting shot –
A week of ease, then a week of sting,
To see that he’s not forgot.
Winter Jacks
Jack Frost and Jack Thaw,
Mortal enemies –
Fighting over water drops
In air and stone and trees.
Jack Frost gets in early,
But then Jack Thaw wins the day,
But once the Sun has set, we see
Jack Frost come out to play.
Umbrella Umbrage
My brolly broke, godammit,
Such a useless, shoddy thing –
I’d really have to ram it
Just to close its wonky spring.
Always turning inside-out,
And barely waterproof –
I reckon, even in a drought,
It’s still a leaky roof.
I guess it’s better than nothing,
And with patience, could be saved –
But is it really worth the faffing
For each time it misbehaved ?
The ratchet isn’t coupling,
And the popper won’t hold fast,
The flimsy ribs were buckling
When I tried to close it last.
“Enough !” I roared, “you’ve tested me
For the enth and final time !
For far too long you’ve bested me,
But vengeance shall be mine !”
It’s mocked me ever since ’twas bought,
But won’t trouble me again –
Until, that is, next time I’m caught
In the unprotected rain.
Brackish Streams
I’ve always been a weeper in the wind –
It only takes the slightest breeze
To turn-on my capillaries,
As drip by drip, I am chagrined,
And have to whip my hankie out
To stem each overactive spout.
I don’t know why
The weather makes me cry,
Especially the cold.
An eye-jerk sense,
Or anti-drought defence
That will not be controlled.
I’ve always been too salty in the frost –
All the Winter, all those leaks,
To run and freeze upon my cheeks.
So tear by tear, my poise is lost,
Into a sobbing, briny wreck
Who cannot keep his ducts in check.
I don’t know why
My gaze is never dry,
Until my eyeballs rust.
They even seep
While closed and fast asleep,
Then desiccate to dust.
Rhyming Couplets 