Frost

[Hawkman]

By day, the furry carpet is complacent,
though it might be treacherous under foot
and without warning stretch you on your back,
while impassive feathered windows look.

But at night, in the glare of streetlights,
it glitters in its spite. The roofs of cars,
the roads and pavements sparkle like
the predatory stars. There is no shroud of cloud

between the firmament and ground
and the country earth is rock, which presses
through the sole of boot and sock
with each ankle-shattering step.

In imagination, even breath is sprinkled
with tiny, wind-chime, crystal tinkles
as the frozen molecules of air collide.
On such a night, just stay at home and hide

behind your casements with the curtains drawn,
wrapped in blankets to keep warm,
sip hot drinks while huddled round
the scornful glow-worms of electric fires,

or bask before a popping grate
and dancing flames that frost can’t face.
For winter’s icy thorns would pierce your flesh,
and chill will keep its blossom fresh.

[PrinceMyshkin]

We're facing it here too, my friend: afoot, foot and a half of slightly moist snow. Jaunty verses for such a challenging condition.

[hillwalker]

Some great images here -

predatory stars - scornful glow-worms of electric fires

and the way v2 melts into v3 is also extremely effective.

H

[Hawkman]

Hi Prince, no snow here but the frost has not released its grip for three days. I must get out into the countryside and take some pictures. I hear the moors calling. Just as well I drive a 4x4.

hill, thanks for your kind words.

Live and be well, H

[AuntShecky]

Hi Hawkman,

The long suffering spouse* and I were just discussing this very topic this a.m. and we both concluded that we love living in the Great Northeast with its vaunted "change of
seasons." We like to look at the pretty snow, but it's an ordeal for those who have to drive in it, wait for a bus in it, work outside in it, etc. Both of us used to love colder weather, but considerably less so now that we're about to enter what *LSS calls our "dotage."

Even so-- in pundit talk, "having said that"-- there's little to dislike about you pleasant, comforting piece, despite some of its less-than- sanguine, though evocative images.
I loved the image of the "feathered windows"-- the delicate, swirling patterns etched by the --unfortunate term!--"hoar" frost.

Whoops. There's an unnecessary apostrophe in line 6. I believe you mean the possessive pronoun--"its spite."

The phrase "predatory stars" threw me momentarily. Then it dawned on me-- the winter constellation, Orion, "The Hunter"! That was inspired, Hawk.

The ostensibly prose-y line "frozen molecules of air collide" becomes more poetic with the notion that in many cases science is the reason for the beauty of natural phenomena. The motif resonates with the notion that, as with indigenous Arctic people with their numerous words for "snow," there is a certain kind of frozen precipitation from which the particles are much harder than flakes yet softer than spheres of ice. In my neck o' the woods, where the "Lake Effect" often brings bitter winds if not heavy amounts of snow, this kind of snow can really feel like pinpricks that really sting.

I loved how you used enjambment between lines 16 and 17 so effectively.

I can't figure out why the "glowworms of the electric fires" are "scornful" but I liked the line. The "dancing flames" made me nostalgic for the fireplace back in our old haunts, even though 90% of the heat escaped up the chimney, and LSS described the attempt to keep the hearth burning was like "working on the Acheson, Topeka, and the Santa Fe."

The closing couplet is the best. Some of us prefer Coltrane's instrumental version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's "My Favorite Things," but thanks to the widespread popularity of Julie Andrews's rendition, the line "snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes" has almost become mundane. But here, however, Old Man Winter's cold is depicted in a way that is springlike in its freshness, the rose not merely found the cheeks of a tiny tot but as winter itself.

[Hawkman]

Hi Auntie, and thanks for your in-depth reading and comment and for sharing the chummy asides describing your wooded necks :D (i've sorted the typo, thanks)

Speaking of hoar frost, I was once driving home from Southampton, mid winter, and a freezing fog was just lifting. The bare branches of the trees and roadside shrubs were furred with delicate icy extrusions which extended outwards for a good two inches from the armatures of the plants. In the light it was stunning. Don't usually get that sort of thing round here. Anyway, I'm glad you liked the poem.

Live and be well, H

[Jacobi]

The imagery in this poem...really works out. I like it.

Could you explain the opening stanza to me? Perhaps it is obvious, and I have some ideas, but I would love the take from the poet him(?)self

[Hawkman]

Hi Jacobi. I recognise your avatar as, "The Wanderer above the Mists" by the 19th C German landscape artist Casper David Friedrich.

There's no much not to get from the first stanza, I'm afraid. A description of a furry carpet of frost which looks pretty in the daylight. It can still make people slip and fall though, and the 'feathered windows' refers to the fernlike, feathery patterns of ice on the glass.

glad you liked the poem :D

Live long and prosper - H

[Haunted]

We have some unseasonally cold temps here and reading these lines just warmed me up instantly. The smooth flow of the lines, especially the n and m sounds, offer much warmth and comfort.


behind your casements with the curtains drawn,
wrapped in blankets to keep warm,
sip hot drinks while huddled round
the scornful glow-worms of electric fires,

[Hawkman]

Thank you, Haunted I'm extremely pleased that you like it. It's much colder here than usual - the second cold winter we've had on the trot, but this one has started much earlier. It wasn't as cold as this until February last winter, at least here in the South West UK.

By the way, I really think you should find somewhere safer to take a rest - railway lines are notoriously hazardous, but maybe the cold weather has stopped the trains from running. Still, it can't be comfortable, stretched across the rails like that. You'll get a crick in your neck!

TTFN H

[Haunted]

Thanks for your concern Hawk. Only phantom trains run on these tracks. I'm going to be ok...unfortunately ;)

Last night it went down to 8ºF (-13ºC), that's January temps. I thought of those hot drinks and scornful glow-worms. :D

[blank|verse]

There are some nice moments in this poem, Hawk, which is suitably evocative of recent climatic conditions.

I was intrigued by Prince's comment about it being 'jaunty' - by which I presume he means that's a welcome thing, but for me that tone seemed to strike the wrong note.

The tension between the beauty and the danger of the subject is suggested through the imagery of the first three stanzas - 'treacherous', 'warning', 'predatory stars' etc. - but the poem comes down on the side of a rather light-hearted ending, snuggling round the fire. Some of the other phrases in the poem are a bit whimsical as well - the 'furry carpet' and 'scornful glow-worms' among them - which contributes to this light-heartedness.

I suppose it comes down to personal preference, but I found that a bit disappointing after what had been suggested previously. Maybe there will be a Director's Cut released later! :)

[Hawkman]

Haunted, with my conern for your welfare assauaged I can only commiserate with with you in your endurance of the chil :D

B/V Hi and thanks for reading. I'm not sure that the poem is realy all that jaunty and the lines which I am most dubious about are the ones you didn't mention :D Seriously, I am conflicted over:

In imagination, even breath is sprinkled
with tiny, wind-chime, crystal tinkles

which, although I quite liked the assonance when I wrote it, I increasingly feel are just too twee.

Not sure about the jauntiness. The scornful glow-worms and the dancing flames in popping grates are social comment. The poor huddle round inadequate electric fires in their flats which cost money to run, while those who are well off only need to throw another log on the fire, in rooms that are so over heated that they can "bask". Seems that everyone has missed this. Maybe I need to slow the pace down so people don't skim it as they read?

Thanks for your observations and I'd be interested to hear what you would do with it...

Live and be well, H

[blank|verse]

I'm not sure that the poem is realy all that jaunty
To be fair, I agree that 'jaunty' is the wrong word and too strong, perhaps 'light-hearted' is more fitting. My brain did think of making this point, but obviously my fingers ignored it.

In imagination, even breath is sprinkled
with tiny, wind-chime, crystal tinkles
I wasn't sure about the start: 'In imagination' - usually you'd have a personal pronoun in the middle of that phrase; but also, is the phrase needed at all in a poem where figurative language is common? As for the rest, I suppose it depends on what you want to overall tone of the poem to be. This could be used to suggest how people view the beauty of frost, without thinking about the next point...

Which I didn't really pick up - the point of social commentary - maybe that had something to do with the word 'casements', which has connotations of wealth and grand mansions, not tenement squalor. But this point might be something to tease out, and would (for me at least) make a stronger ending. It puts me in mind of 'The Park Drunk' by Robin Robertson from 'Swithering' (2006).

[Hawkman]

Thanks B/V I'll give it some thought. I used casements because I'd already said windows in S1. I don't think there are too many alternatives for window :D I'm not sure why you should associate 'casements' with wealth though. A casement is just a window which opens on vertical hinges, though I'll grant you that, "hide behind your casements" is not a common expression. Perhaps on this occasion I could accept an accusation that I'm using a Shakespearianism. :D

Best, H

[blank|verse]

I see the issue with not wanting to repeat 'windows'; I would suggest missing it out altogether, and perhaps rephrasing the image with the curtain and so on.

Alternatively, if you're wanting associations with poverty, perhaps the window could be single-glazed or similar.

Any use?

[mpdague]

I really like many of your descriptions; the "furry carpet", "feathered windows" and "frozen molecules of air collide" . All are quite evocative and illustrate this cold wintry weather nicely.

I did find the first two lines of stanza 4 a bit off, especially "with tiny, wind-chime, crystal tinkles" too many adjectives maybe? Not sure what to suggest, or if it is proper to.

Overall I enjoyed this piece a lot.

[Hawkman]

Thanks B/V I'll take a good hard look at this poem when I have time.

mpdague. thanks for reading and commenting. You are quite right to point out that line as I don't like it either - lol. It is as you point out over-written and twee to boot. I'm working on a revision.

Best, H

[firefangled]

Hawk, this is a wonderful poetic description of a winter scene. The narrator seems to be looking out from a deeper interior than a house alone. I thought the rhythm was perfect, breaking just enough to keep it interesting. Loved the off rhymes. My favorite S:

In imagination, even breath is sprinkled
with tiny, wind-chime, crystal tinkles
as the frozen molecules of air collide.
On such a night, just stay at home and hide


Well done!

[Hawkman]

Thanks for the vote of confidence, ff. Funny, I thought the first two lines of this stanza weren't working. Maybe theyr're not so bad after all (shrug).

Live and be well, H

[Bar22do]

This paces nicely, and says of the winter in an original way, oh Hawk. I picked up this:

In imagination, even breath is sprinkled
with tiny, wind-chime, crystal tinkles
as the frozen molecules of air collide.

as my favorite moment here... but all the poem is so nice!

Warm wishes for this cold winter! Bar

[Hawkman]

Sweet Bar, as ever, pleasing your easthetic sensibilities is its own reward :D

Live and be well, H