thistle

Beautiful...the language was romantic, elegant yet stayed consistent with your usual mystique, intensity and grace.

Visions cast through veils of clouds
Wind echoing words of the past
Flowers bend at its breeze
As it passes, like a stranger in the night

Wonderful write, thank you Steven

As always, you deliver the goods when it comes to image-filled poetry! The way you tie words together to elicit emotions and intent has always amazed me and made me a bit envious! You rock, my friend!

You've done it again left me speechless, this is a extraordinary poem

I have line envy you always please the senses and the mind with what you write you really do have the gift

Bravo

love JC xxx

Och aye, the thistle, listen to the wires of spiders webs
in the winds of Winter, the murmur of the stream,
we can make our own paintings in the mind,
you wielding the brush, dear Wolf.

"and on the dead leaf lawns
the shelter limits dance
like rain on dark pools trance"

I loved "the dead leaf lawns, and the rhyme
is like a reflection in the dark pools of Winter's wiles,
the shelters rattling like old corrugated iron roofs.

Yes we are in similar climates, the leaves hanging on
this year so that they look like brown snow in among
the tree trunks, and when we step on them they collapse,
like deep snow, the frost beneath raising them up in the air;
as t can the road tarmac that creates cracks and they fill with
little plants eager to claim new territory, much to the
governments concern.

How we blow along in the dances of Winter, don't we,
stilled by the freeze, but thrown to the four winds when
the blizzards come. Wonderful nature, varied with its weathers
all over the globe, magical life.

Love to you from an icing sugar layer of snow that picks
out the paths where it gathers closer together, Ann