October (Failand)

Ice fingers crept up closed window,
engine running, still warm inside.
Momentum slowing, inertia stalled,
pausing before him. Black gloved
insistence, no through way today.
Twilight decorated for Christmas,
flashing blue lights against frozen grey.
Utter contradiction, traditional feeling,
warped to fearful sadness, forgetting
for a moment the snowballs and crackers.
So quickly clock hands spin, held
in time’s grasp, these seasons slipping past.
As winter waits at the door watching
autumn’s debut dance, those who
cannot forget await wheel of law
delivery of hollow justice.
Leaves start drifting down
at the cooling breeze insistence
all is quiet here, except memories.

(I don’t normally put explanations of poems, but this poem is based on a narrative of my Christmas day 2010, and I dedicate it to the memory of Joanna Yeates)

Entered for OpenLinkNight 25/10/11 on http://dversepoets.com/

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9 responses to “October (Failand)

  1. I like this feeling of suspension between autumn and what’s coming. “Winter waits at the door watching autumn’s debut dance” a brilliant and beautiful line.. Nice work, Abi!

  2. Between the frozen 1st line “Ice fingers crept up closed window,” to the last line release “all is quiet here, except memories.” the poem hold the reader in its firm grasp not permitting any stray thoughts to cross one’s mind. Very gripping prose. Even as the end approaches the release is systematic “Leaves start drifting down/ at the cooling breeze insistence”. Lovely work indeed!!

  3. Ah..I remember this story. She went missing Christmas eve? So awful…your poem captures the feelings well ‘flashing blue lights against frozen grey.
    Utter contradiction, traditional feeling,
    warped to fearful sadness, forgetting
    for a moment the snowballs and crackers.’ ..well written piece, Abi

  4. It feels as if there’s a deep story to this poem, once where there is an ice cold past that creeps back again with regret. Very well done

  5. Yes…your finish here is brilliant. There is a frantic pace to the read, like time is running out. I am guessing from comments above, that it indeed was. Wonderful writing!

  6. A complex web of memories and sorrow, loss, all the feelings we are supposed to repudiate at Christmas, and which are made larger than life against that backdrop when something provokes them. Last line is stunning yes, but the whole poem is a convincing and well written whole, cold to the bone.

  7. Can I just say how bloody ‘mazin you got so quick? šŸ˜› I’ve been tardy and lappie free. Catch up sunday and I find this?! Bet Ally’s over the moon and so she should be!

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