Saturday, December 4, 2010

Poem From the MIddle of the Night.

Woke up at 3 AM with this fully formed in my head.


Brittle as dried grass
Under a burning frost,

We wait for the rifle-crack
Of breaking ice
As we go under.

Across the field
The vault of trees
Pulls the last light into shadow

All is quiet,
All is cold,

We are breath
And huddled warmth,
And I need the weight of you
To keep me from flying away.


  1. Hmmm. I'm a hard sell on poetry. A VERY hard sell on poetry. You've got some good imagery and powerful wording to display it. The second verse in particular has a great flow, with 'crack' being such a strongly audial word and the next two lines conveying a dramatic action so quickly that it sucks you into it.

    As well as someone who wants to kick the Romantic Poets in the bollocks I am also Uloborus from BJ, and you suggested AsianGrrrrrrrrl and I should contact you here to discuss the trials and travails of getting published. Any thoughts how we do this thing?

  2. Hey, glad to hear from you. My email is, and you can email me your contact information and any suggestions/questions, or how you want to get started. This is a busy, busy month for me, but I figure we can at least lay some groundwork.

    Funny thing about the poem, I used to write a ton of poetry up until high school,then not so much. The only other poem I wrote in the last 20 years was for my sweetie when we were dating. Don't know what caused this to float to the surface. :)