Dec. 1 - On Snowy Hillside
Poetry Advent Calendar
This December, I am taking the reflective route for my advent. I have set out to write 24 poems in 24 styles about memories, sensation, imagery, and connection.
*** December First ***
On Snowy Hillside
Start the long trek on
Towards high, snow covered hills
Wooden Toboggan
Sliding silently behind
Leaving snakes on white sidewalks
***
Hearing the children
Long before seeing them there
Laughing and yelling
Quickly descending steep slopes
Before running to start again
***
At slope’s top, look down
Rise of panic at the speed
Others ride downhill
Sitting snug, hands holding reins
Wiggle to go, whistling wind
***
Heart beating faster
Stopping point unknown, now, now
Exhilarating
Roll to side, skid last few feet
Lay back looking up
***
Pale insistent sun
Set against the bright blue sky
Rise up, shake off snow
Start the steep climb, begin again
All afternoon down hillside
***
Sun sinking low, now
Time to go home, one last time
Yippee! Hoorah! Woah!
Walking home, street lights come on
Door opens, familiar warmth
*** Poem in Tanka form ***
About the Creator
Christina Barber
Vancouver, Canada
@lille_sol
@canuckreader
Publications:
“Alone in an Empty Room” https://www.thecreativezine.org/issue1
Keep reading
More stories from Christina Barber and writers in Poets and other communities.
Dec. 2 - Sappho's Hummingbirds
One of my greatest discoveries upon moving to Vancouver was finding out that Anna's Hummingbirds make their home along the West Coast all year round. I have since been a regular friend, making sure there is always fresh nectar. In winter, on the rare freezing cold days, I take care to bring the food in at night to keep it from freezing, and I am greeted by hungry little birds in the morning, impatient for food. I am delighted to keep company with such beautiful and tenacious little birds. The flash of magenta and orange of the males and the bright, shining olive greens of the females signal their arrival. I look forward to their visits, however brief. When there is a lot of snow, they sit patiently waiting on branches that protect them from falling snow. Like me, they are patiently waiting the sun and warmer days.
By Christina Barber2 years ago in Poets
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.