Frost And Fruitlessness

by Ben Pickard   Sep 11, 2019

Between your excessive use of vocabulary
and the frost that freezes my lips together,
I fear the length of this coming winter.

Underneath the summer sun, we entwined
as easily as the vines of ivy would,
but now, as we crackle and snap in the cruel
and cooling air, we have come apart
like broken strings from rotten lyres that
were once made of the richest mahogany.

I will try to step lightly on your frozen ground,
but you will blow my skeletal leaves from
their once secure and emerald perch.

I mourn the passing of life and love,
and fear the frost and fruitlessness of these coming months.


Ben Pickard 2019


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Em (marmite)

    This as an edge to it that I can't quite put my finger on at present... Like a bit of story in between the lines that I can't quite grasp (if they makes sense) like I just can't explain.. In a good way as there's a mysteriousness about it.
    Take care x

    • 1 month ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks, Em. You know me, I like to keep you guessing!

  • 1 month ago

    by DarkLight

    Well deserved. Lovely poem.

    • 1 month ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Shanky and Michael - thanks for reading/commenting.

  • 1 month ago

    by Michael

    well done Ben, love the imagery here, M

  • 1 month ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    There are no words. Beautiful as always. All the very best to you

    • 1 month ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks, Dagmar. And all the best to you, too.

  • 2 months ago

    by Brenda

    As always, beautifully written. I love your words...

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