My Winter

Make me shiver
My cold, cold wind
Your eyes are brown leaves
You're my winter

The frost is thick
On the ground black glass
On the blacktop I slip up
I look up and go down again

Years pass and still I die
When lips kiss yours
And those lips aren't mine
Belonging to some strange soul

Breaking bones every time
I fall and remember
You should be setting them
You should be kissing them

Where does hurt end
And healing begin?
Deep underground
Below the frost line?

Dirt beneath my fingernails
How I got here, I can't tell
Awakened in a field
Face frozen over with tears

I am driven wild, undone again
Pacing the highways
On a dark horse, swift as wind
Running from a broken day


  1. This is lovely. I love freeverse poetry the best, even though I tend to do a rhyme scheme at times, I think freeverse turns out the best.

    I also like how this story morphs from telking about winter to talking about a lost love. It's a great transition, many parallels.

  2. Thanks Aubrie!

    Yes, freeverse is extremely liberating - especially in a lament. Most of my favorite laments come from translated Irish Gaeilge verses where the focus is removed from struggling to achieve clever phrasing and more towards immersing the reader in the imagery and raw emotion of the piece with more accurate word choice and also I love how much more I can do with the metre.

  3. Impressive. Unfotunately, I'm deaf and blind to meter. I've studied it many times in my classes, and when asked to find the meter in something, I'm ok. But usually I don't notice it. It's a bad thing and I'm working on it.

  4. I'm terrible too. The most I can do is look at something and say, "That doesn't sound right at all. Here, let me change that around until it isn't incomprehensibly horrible." - That's what I mean by "metre." :-D

  5. Oh good! I don't feel so bad then. That's what I do too.