Posts Tagged ‘winter’

Spawn of December and January,
Children of Saturn,
Listen to this,

Like the humble mountain goat,
A creature of work and advancement,
Salt of the Earth,
You’re practical and ambitious,
Hardy and wilful,
A horned beast of burden,

And like a scaled critter of the ocean,
You can be cold and calculated,
Vicious as the sea,
As unpredictably deadly as a stingray,
Even to those you are fond of,
A child of winter as you are,

Alas this is no horoscope,
But a simple analysis of a human,
From the outside looking in.

I grow weary of winter,
Sadness is too identic to the blizzards,
The misery feels like any January day,
The snow doesn’t resonate my grief amply,
The icicle xylophones no longer echo sufficiently,
And snowmen make poor clowns,
The cold only brings souls closer,
So internal hibernation becomes a vital chore,

Give me warmer climes,
I’d rather grieve in spring,
Pitting sorrow against new life,
I want tulips to brush my tears away,
For lambs to harken to my dirge,
To fade into fields of fresh green for hours,
Woe in winter feels like par for the course,
A world newly alive is a far better stage,

When the sun shines,
Sorrow feels like sorrow.

I once knew a man,
Less a friend and more an ally,
A true winterborn soul,
His face was obscured by unfeeling sapphire,
And he wore that azure mask well,
An emotionless shield of ice,
A frost king carved from the keenest pain,

And when he spoke,
Gales rose in chorus,
His breath was the coldest blizzard,
Each taunt and retort shaping the most briery snowflakes,
Cutting in more ways than one,
Ivory shards in each syllable,
Each word a drop in the mercury,

Yet I tell you,
There was no malice in his visage,
Just the indifferent essence of the arctic,
Nothing personal,
Barely any feeling at all in fact,
No more than a heart of frozen water,
An avalanche holds no grudge.

All is quiet and pure under the christmas lights,
Families finally resting their heads,
With the younglings awaiting he in the red coat,
But be sure they are deserving,
Or they invite the Krampus,
The dark element of the holiday season,

A mountain of matted fur and goat horns,
Eerily shrieking basket upon his back,
Hooves upon the perturbed snow,
He likes to punish those bad boys and girls,
The ones who spit and mock the infirm,
And purloin them from their sobbing sires,

So young ones,
You better be good,
Show respect and eat your greens,
Or he’ll chase you giggling all the while,
You won’t be spared the birch rod,
And be whisked away by cloven hoof.

This time of year,
The suns hand grows more distant,
And the nights spread further round the clock,
All blood chills at the realisation,

The land once again dons her ivory dress,
And tiaras like frozen stalactites,
An ice queen crowned anew,
Blizzards and bitter rain as coronation melodies,

The winds rise up in rumpus,
Servants of the wintry monarch,
Blades firmly pointed at us serfs,
Guffawing and scratching at our cheeks,

The ice queens rule shall persist for months,
Snow and sleet as her bishops and viscounts,
A frigid stasis holding the world,
Under cold iron fist.

Hello there inmates!

How is everybody doing this week then? All well I hope. As for me, I seem to be rather unwell again. I’ve barely left bed for the last two days, which is rather inconvenient as you’d agree. The cough is still going very strongly and I seem to have intermittent headaches. I’ll survive I’m sure, but it’s slowed me down with the writing a fair bit. On a positive note, thank you for all of your wonderful comments this week, it has been a real boost!

So it’s Wednesday (I think?) and you know what that means. It’s the day before Thursday. Haha! Okay but seriously it’s time for the Harlequins writing music once again! Did anybody see the clue for the theme today? You guys ought to follow me on those pesky social media sites, you’ll never miss a clue again.

Todays theme for our writing music is the cold! Ahh yes, that breath of winter we all encounter at particular times of year. I’m not a fan of the cold myself, I always seem to suffer quite extensively with it. I get chilly rather easy when I’m not active or need to put the heating on a tad earlier than others might. When it comes to music however, the essence of ice can bring up all manner of ideas. Depression is often associated with the cold, along with rains and storms. Loneliness is another emotion that goes hand in hand with the numbing touch of winter. Seasonal sadness and all that. Many artists have used the feeling of chills to talk about sadness, or perhaps fear and grim inevitability. Music remains one of the best ways of exhibiting these ideas. Have you ever listened to a song that actually gives you goosebumps? Let’s see some music artists that I feel have got the idea of being frozen down eh?

So, join me as we delve into the musical minds of boreal artists the world over!

Darkseed – Biting Cold

Simon & Garfunkel – A Hazy Shade Of Winter

Gojira – Born In Winter

Ed Sheeran – The A Team

Röyksopp РOnly This Moment

And there we have it for another week! Does anybody else feel a bit nippy? I need another layer on I think. I hope that you enjoy my chilly musical choices this time. I hope there’s something for everybody in there! Please consider checking out each of these artists, they all deserve the attention.

So, let’s have some social media stuff. The asylum you see before you has a presence over on Facebook, an account on Instagram and even a page on Twitter! Follow me over on those for extra stuff eh? Also, if you really enjoy what I do here at the asylum, please consider supporting me over on the Ko-Fi page! Thanks for everything!

Until next week, have a very crazy day inmates!

Under thundery skies of white,
Came the rumble of tracks,
And the boom of gunnery,
A boreal front is rent open,
An iron cross enclosing upon an eastern jugular,
Hammer and sickle on the backfoot,
Surrender was no option,
And so flesh was ground against iron,
The blitzkrieg was on,

Two flags spiral around each other in dispute,
Cities and fields become their shrapnel market,
Lives were the currency paid in full,
But both fate and snow had other ideas,
The winter came to its sons aid,
Freezing fuel and choking soldiers in grey,
Another weapon against the iron cross,
Like the little emperor before,
This evil could not weather the winterstorm.

Do you still hear her voice?
A solemn call in the brume,
As the nights grow more beastly,
As the winds grow ever in tempo,
And winters spectre peers from behind trees,

Do you feel her caress?
By the fireside,
Under that sedate harvest eve,
As the atmosphere swims in sandalwood,
And the breeze tears up that amber carpet,

Autumn comes every year,
And it is a season of entropy,
So tell me,
Do you still hear her voice,
Upon autumns mournful boughs?

I remember reaching out,
During this winter of winters,
Fingers clawing out to earthly rime,
Hands straining to feel some sliver of nature,

I remember the boreal pain,
An intense bolt of arctic lightning,
Biting and vengeful,
A scourge birthed in cold,

Now my hands lay in black stain,
No longer able to caress anything,
This rot has been inflicted upon my fingers,
For the sin of touching the world,

Now no sensation comes to me.

As this first breath of the year comes to a close,
The reverie of the years change is history,
Pangs of brainwork nip my flanks,
A delayed desire for self-improvement,
A new years resolution a touch too late,

This is a winterborn ache,
The chill of january has abated my verve,
The sleet and rain washed away my impetus,
An unwanted frozen barrier to change,
Leading me to hibernate rather than live,

January doesn’t feel new,
Just more of the same,
More winter to languish in.