Holding hands in fresh gloves we walk the Winter woods; it’s quiet on Boxing Day morning; probably too many bad heads sleeping it off.
The essence of Chris is still hanging in the air, from the tall pine sentries lining our route, watching us in the scarves wrapped around our faces; the same scarves muffling our voices, and the words we get wrong, singing the Christmas songs everyone knows.
We ask each other to name their favourite part of Christmas so far; I say spending time with you; I know I say the same thing every year but it’s the truth; and you say the same.
I’m lost in your hazelnut eyes when snow begins to fall; I wonder what it would be like to be frozen in time; right here, right now, in this very moment; but when the soft snowflake hits my cheek; I wake up from my festive fog, and we walk on – destination unknown.
Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Festive Good Fortune,
Seasons greetings! It’s here everybody! Christmas Eve! Can you believe it? Only twenty-four days ago I started the Haiku Advent Calendar as a challenge to myself and a gift to you all. We’ve made it!!!
I’m going to put on the tree lights and settle down for a day of relaxation and maybe some baking.
But first, I’ll leave you with this haiku…
Santa packs his sleigh, ready to warp across earth; The best gift is LOVE.
Thanks for joining me and for the kind words during the Haiku Advent Calendar. If you want to read the previous Haikus, click the specific day below:
The Christmas episode of the Eat The Storms Poetry Podcast has been released. On it, you’ll hear me (!!!) reading four of my poems with a wintry and festive feel. I am so grateful that Damien (the host with the most!) invited me back to read. I love Christmas and the last time I appeared on the podcast was my podcasting debut, my reading live debut and was so much fun.
Some of the poems I’ve read you’ll find on Paul Writes Poems already; the others will be released between now and Christmas along with my daily Haiku Advent Calendar so keep your eyes peeled.
The last time I had the opportunity to appear on Eat The Storms, the other readers were amazing. The same is said for my fellow poets appearing on the Christmas episode, but, this time Damien has ramped things up for the festivities so it’s bursting at the seams like a vintage stocking.
I have released a poem this month already, you can find the piece of nostalgia by clicking, ‘At Christmas‘.
It was a massive honour and privilege to take part, especially with the calibre of the other poets reading. I may have been was awestruck! (I must apologise for the sore throat though.)
I welcome Autumn as she drapes me in a blanket of bronze and straw-gold whispering seductive sweet promises of late lavender sunrises and delicious red sunsets she mentions velvet night-skies flecked with tiny diamonds and an occasional silent symphony by the Northern Lights even the rain softens under her presence guiding acorns to ground while winged sycamores float safely down and when the wind wraps itself around her it whistles happily carrying her scent of blackberry and pear feeding my nostalgia of years gone by everything about Autumn is chaos everything about Autumn is just so I long for her and her embrace to return by the time Winter shakes my hand with his icy fingers.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem , I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave any comments you may like.
We sat under a steady autumn sky watching the tiny acts of rebellion as young clouds broke away from old grey from white, white from grey and the sun threw firecrackers at the surface of the sea silent, straw-gold crackling amid the calm we stole glances from each other as the tender harbour breeze kisses our cheeks turning us blush-pink the terns and gulls played tag swooping too close to earth that the seagrass stole some feathers and – as nature misbehaved all around us I softly gripped your hand knowing you’d never let me go because I was falling in love with you even more and this falling will go on forever like the marble-blue horizon
– under the steady autumn sky.
Thanks for taking time to read my poem, I hope you enjoyed it. While you’re here, why not check some of my other work out.
I write in the margins because I used to live there an oddity, an anomaly, a correction wasting valuable space on the page until the margins became too tight to breathe in too tight to survive in so I leaked into the rest of the page sharing my words with others finding friendship and love.
I write in the margins because the margins made me.
Thanks for taking time to read my poem. I hope you enjoyed. Why not take time to read some of my other pieces?
I remember how my hand fit into yours with welcoming ease and the warmth of your skin heated my tepid fingers as we walked along the beach
the North Sea was trembling with chilling intensity – as we skimmed stones plucked fresh from champagne-gold sand they wisped over waves their light friction warming the water and calming the sea
I told a joke about blushing lobsters and seaweed you laughed because it was so bad and the frame of your face lit up the dusky sky better than the distant hilltop fire beacons could ever hope to
I’m hoping this has all has gone to plan – that some years have passed – and our hands still fit each others that the message I buried in this bottle is not lost to the tide like so many other romances and we’re reading this in the spot where we sat and snuggled that night stargazing at the peach-kissed setting sun on the horizon
– because I know that I will love you forever.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem dedicated to my beautiful wife, Christine.
that thick cotton shirt shade of deep midnight with moon-silver thread glistening ethereal under streetlights wearing it felt celestial so I only wore it once for our first date drinks and pizza looking at each other over red gingham cloth and flickering candle wax dripping down an empty bottle of last week’s house wine conversation mostly answers to silent questions asked with eyes and the curve of nervous lips I tried to be a gentleman and pull out your chair as we were leaving the waiter saw it as an affront for which I apologised to show I was a gentleman and when we hugged goodbye I felt our cheeks touch both warm with wine and affection so when I see the same shirt folded neatly in your drawer close to the memory box and wedding album I catch a glimmer from the moon-silver thread that helped stitch our lives together I believe in magic.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem, dedicated to my beautiful wife.
Zero degrees C in the peak of midwinter we wrapped up warm in wool and polyester pulled on our boots thick with suede upper and gripping rubber soles primed and ready to walk the forest its floor frosted white glamourising the natural litter of fallen acorns and amber needles we held each others hand through our scandi grey gloves a) for support since I was clumsy and b) for love we looked out over the blank frozen fields and into the feeble glare of a weakened winter sun some chimneys breathed in the distance a sign of life going on while time stood still as we tightened our hands our minds raced to what the future would hold luckily for me I still get to hold you.
Thanks for reading. Thanks to freestocks on unsplash for use of the image.