Third is a submission from Tiffanie of Crazy Redhead Perspectives. It’s a gloomy but very descriptive moment that truly grasps the meaning of Winter. The original post can be found here.
It is the type of morning when
you step out of bed shivering—
curling your toes away from the
feeling of a cold hard wood floor.
When the dripping of the coffee
pot is not enough to warm you.
When it’s constant, consistent
noise drives you to an insanity;
dripping, dripping, dripping.
It is the type of morning that
seeps into your bones—the type
of morning where the winter chill
has crept into your home like a
thief in the night.
When the outside world looks
too bright, barren. When the
dead branches are scraping through
the air and creating and unsettled feeling;
scraping, scraping, scraping.
It is the type of morning that you take
a shower just to feel warmth running
over your body—the type of morning
that does not require shampoo, rather,
and escape from the cold.
When your memories crave release and
suddenly flood your bedroom,
driving you to listen to sad music and
drown in the emotions of your past;
drowning, drowning, drowning.
Our second entry is from Michael of The Vision of Poets. This is a deep, love story embraced by fantastic usage of imagery. The original poem can be found here.
Wiping the perspiration from my brow
Sitting here in the coldness of your heart
Wondering how I could possibly feel the heat
Alongside your frigid soul
Only yesterday you professed your
Profound desire for my love…
Yet – today I find you here amongst the passionflower,
Entangled in the vines of your
As you walk out my door
And into the yard…
I can see your breath as a cold fog
Although the sun is shining brightly
On this warm day of December
Frost is forming beneath your feet
With each step that you take
Away from me…
I can only suppose from the bitter cold that
Dwells within you
I must join those who have warned me
Of your desires for wandering
Amongst the frozen tundra
In your nakedness…
Hidden from those who have cared so
Deeply for your being…
Yet have suffered so profoundly from the ice
That creeps so perniciously through
I must find my own pathway to survival
Without you inside my heart…
Although my thoughts of you in this very moment
Are far less than honorable…
I will not linger in my reflections of you
For I have endured the cold many times before…
I have had my heart shattered in the past
By the cold hard facts of reality…
While I lingered in moments of my illusions
That I was truly loved…
Be careful with whom you wander…
Across the frozen ponds of your delusive heart…
Your nakedness may someday feel the cold…
And frostbite hurts…
First up is a submission from Jamie of Mostly Short Stories. This a wonderfully eerie short story, but will be placed under a ‘read more’ tag because of its length. It does not contain mature themes.
This wasn’t the standard kind of cold. Not the kind when shivers run down your back and goose bumps pop up on your arms. Not the kind when red tingles noses and cheeks as chilly wind kisses it. Not the kind when all the muscles stiffen from an icy shock of cold water.
This cold was the kind that turned fingers black and blue and brittle. This cold was the blistering kind that burned faces and slapped at skin, whiplashing it with full force. This cold was the kind that sunk into the bone, deep and aching in the core. This cold was the kind that hurt.
Duma wanted nothing more than to go home. The dreary, freezing forest felt dark and hopeless and cold. He just wanted warmth, anything other than this cold.
I wonder why everyone’s obsessed with it, I mean, why isn’t the cold deemed as precious as heat?
The Sahara Desert can kill you, you know.
Psychologically, I’ve read that liking warmth is natural for human beings because you need it to survive, rather than being oblivious of the freezing temperatures. So I guess feeling warm after doing something good is your body’s reward system; it urges you to do more good.
But man, being scientific kinda kills the romance of it. And this is a really academically-minded person talking.
In a way, you do need warmth to survive. You need the warmth of the people around you, whether for a benevolent or malevolent intention. You can’t close up and subject yourself to the cold wind all the time. It doesn’t work like that.
Otherwise, you’d be dropping dead of hypothermia.