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n My Winter Rest

The winter sings about the sun,
For it needs love like everyone.
And summer dreams alone in bed
Are where the days shall rest its head.
I am as cold and dead as night—
Alone in bed, I tuck in tight
For fear of death by loneliness
In my winter rest.

I am the son of Dying Tree,
Under the moon, beside the sea,
Where I am held by arms of gray,
Seized by night, captive of day.
And winter’s mine, as I am his;
This solemn soul is all there is
To hold on to, I must confess,
In my winter rest.

And when the world can come to this,
I know there’s nothing I could miss.
The smiling ghosts of hopelessness
Crawl into my winter rest.

And now the rain defeats the sky
To veil the tear beneath my eye;
To shelter dirt and form the ice
To solidify its sacrifice
Of nature’s green and purest lands
And of these mighty, rugged hands
That grapple fate and dare to test
In my winter rest.

Of frozen flesh, of silky mud,
Lament a fire to warm the blood.
And time will tell, if far too old,
The crying flames to soon grow cold,
For loneliness now has a friend
Where the burns are hard to mend.
Only I could be so blessed
In my winter rest.

And when cold silence in my ear
Envelops this world’s atmosphere
The frigid burst within my chest
Will call upon my winter rest.

And when the world can come to this,
I know there’s nothing I could miss.
The smiling ghosts of hopelessness
Crawl into my winter rest.

I found this poem appealing from a musical standpoint. It would probably make a beautiful song.

My criticism here resides in clarity.

In L1, "The winter sings about the sun," and
L2, "For it needs love like everyone." both possess a certain prettiness, but it is not at all clear what is being talked about. etc. etc.

Some of us in the '60's would have pondered this with some weed, but in our more clear-headed days our winter rest is more tangible.

This is not to say that there aren't some places to start. "I am the son of Dying Tree" makes me wonder about leaves, acorns etc.

You have a nice sense of rhyme and rhythm you just need to apply it more sensibly. Good luck with this.

Joe

I do like this poem very much. Gives an atmosphere if feeling cold, lonely and the rest of it. I think it's a great read, thank you!

I agree with you, bee. It is a nice read, isn't it? I was pleasantly surprised at the number of good poems during this comp. A little something for everyone.

i like the fourth stanza the best, personally.

Well, it certainly sounds good to my ears.

I am as cold and dead as night—
Alone in bed, I tuck in tight
For fear of death by loneliness
In my winter rest.

And winter’s mine, as I am his;
This solemn soul is all there is
To hold on to, I must confess,
In my winter rest.

brilliant, as more I read it as more I like it,
i wish i've wrtitten this.
as Joe said, it could be a great song, thank you so much for writing this

it probably will be a song. i can turn it into one. i was inspired by "a thousand kisses deep." i had the music to it playing in my head as i wrote it. hahaha.

Don't start bragging now- Terratogen! Congrats anyway!

hahaha. thank you. but i don't mean to say someone would want to pick it up and perform it. i can do that myself if i wanted to. i'm a musician, and i've got lots of songs that came from poetry. i guess you can call this bragging.... hahaha.

A few specific comments below to whoever wrote this. As a general observation first (and I am presuming that the author’s first language is not English) you frequently miss the rhythm by half a “beat”.

The winter sings about the sun,
For it needs love like everyone.

As an opener this is dangerously simplistic, you may not keep many of your readers.


And summer dreams alone in bed
Are where the days shall rest its head.

Hallmark.


I am as cold and dead as night—

“cold and dead” is a novice cliché


Alone in bed, I tuck in tight
For fear of death by loneliness
In my winter rest.

Half beat out on last couplet

I am the son of Dying Tree,
Under the moon, beside the sea,
Where I am held by arms of gray,
Seized by night, captive of day.

Captive is again half a beat out.


And winter’s mine, as I am his;
This solemn soul is all there is
To hold on to, I must confess,
In my winter rest.

“I must confess” is a meaningless filler, written to force a rhyme (btw so is making winter masculine just to make “his” rhyme with “is”)

And when the world can come to this,
I know there’s nothing I could miss.
The smiling ghosts of hopelessness
Crawl into my winter rest.

And now the rain defeats the sky

One of your better lines.


To veil the tear beneath my eye;
To shelter dirt and form the ice
To solidify its sacrifice
Of nature’s green and purest lands

Jerusalem


And of these mighty, rugged hands

“mighty, rugged” try to think of original imagery


That grapple fate and dare to test
In my winter rest.

Half a beat out again

Of frozen flesh, of silky mud,

You have to be an accomplished writer to begin verses with “of”


Lament a fire to warm the blood.

What do you mean by “lament a fire”. Is it like “cry me a river”


And time will tell, if far too old,
The crying flames to soon grow cold,

Old and cold- the walk and talk of beginners’ poetry.


For loneliness now has a friend
Where the burns are hard to mend.
Only I could be so blessed
In my winter rest.

And when cold silence in my ear
Envelops this world’s atmosphere

How does the “cold silence” which is inside your ear manage to envelop the rather large “world’s atmosphere”. Think of a different concept that envelop.


The frigid burst within my chest

What is a “frigid burst”? is it like a frigid wife?

Will call upon my winter rest.


And when the world can come to this,
I know there’s nothing I could miss.
The smiling ghosts of hopelessness
Crawl into my winter rest.


I think your Dad, Dying Tree, would be delighted you made an effort to enter the comp. Well done for that.

Critic2- I do like the critic, - right on.
I did notice the "old" and "cold" etc. but it really takes an expert to analyze
it so well, thank you.

I am left with a sense of sadness/hopelessness from this poem where the coldness of lonliness is likened to the coldness of winter. A lonliness that is vying with death for the preferred state of being. This state of despair is (I suspect) that experienced by youth or a young adult as this poem recalls conditions I have experienced in my past. I do not think that this is a state that persists into mature or old age. This assertion is not without exception of course for we are all individuals and our life experience for each of us is unique and can be very private. Lonliness that can be felt so intensely desperate at one time in life can be appreciated as glorious solitude at another time and place.

Cheers, Witty.

Well said. Beautiful avatar.




Linda.

you are right, witty. i've often pondered why i feel lonely in solitude sometimes as opposed to feeling happy in solitude other times. it was moreso in my own past that loneliness was depressing. i still feel that sometimes, of course, which was a time when i penned that piece, but for the most part i'm glad to be alone. but i think, for me, it's a more physical loneliness that doesn't bother me so much anymore. if i am at home and my family is running around, i'd wish they were gone. i like being in that type of loneliness. however, i've been without a girlfriend for over 5 years, and that's sad. i get depressed sometimes because of that, wondering if it's ever my fault. but all i can say is i'm glad i have friends. without friends there is nothing else.