This week has been a tough one for writing–a bit of a slog. I’ve been struggling with this poem for a while now, and I’m posting it even though it’s still a work in progress. I’m especially unsure about the final lines.
Winter
Winter’s cold pierces like talons
Her full moon,
an unblinking, predatory orb,
casts a questing glow
In the late night stillness
of her bitter chill,
darkened tree limbs tap and creak
beneath their ninguid burdens
Shadows flicker and flow
in pockets of dark
like whispers
Winter stretches her wings
soars in silent flight then
swoops
with lethal grace
the rabbit’s death cry
rips the night
shattering the frigid air
safe in our homes
sleeping in warm feathered beds
we shift uneasily
Molly Hogan (c) 2018
This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Kay McGriff at her blog, A Journey Through The Pages. Make sure to stop by and warm up with some poetry this weekend!
Nix the comfort zone 
So much imagery and evocative language, Molly, triggering all the senses. (I had to google ‘ninguid’ – which probably shows I don’t live in snow country! I’m disappointed that I’ll probably never get a chance to use it, myself – or if I do, I’ll have forgotten what the word was!!)
My thoughts to throw into the mix of your last stanza ponderings – if they’re helpful? Disregard if they’re not! I’m wondering if you need the first two lines. They seemed an abrupt shift in focus. I think the final line is more powerful alone. Or even, ‘in feathered beds / we shift uneasily.’
Just popping thoughts out there to get you rolling again – because I know that poetry slog feeling! Thank-you for sharing your work in progress, especially when you’re feeling the uncertainty. (I know that feeling, too! 🙂 )
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Kat, isn’t ninguid a divine word? It’s new to me as well. I recently discovered an article with a treasure trove of delicious winter words (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4035338/It-s-quafftide-Let-s-firkytoodle-clinkabells.html). Though I probably won’t use most of them (or, as you said, will forget them), I had such fun discovering them!
Thanks so much for the feedback–I knew that last stanza didn’t “sit right” with me and your comments have clarified why. I’ll keep slogging along! I really appreciate the time you put into sending your thoughts my way. They were so helpful!
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Between your ‘ninguid’ and Christie’s ‘subnivean’ I feel like I’m almost qualified for (deserving of!) snow. 😛
So glad my feedback was helpful.
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Ooh, ninguid is a good word that I’ll also never have occasion to use. Maybe there’s an old word that means humid or rainy.
I like how you ended with that discomfort even within our covers. For me, it’s always my feet that stay cold. I like Kat’s suggestion for simplifying. Sometimes when I struggle with a poem, it’s because I’ve used too many words when fewer are stronger.
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SWULLOCKING
This is an old southeast English word meaning “sultry” or “humid.” If the sky looks swullocking, then it looks like there’s a thunderstorm on its way.
How about this one, Margaret? (It didn’t take much to entice me to go down the word-finding rabbit hole and put off my morning chores 🙂 Your advice about using too many words is spot-on. Thanks!
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Wow! Thanks for this word. Putting it in its own notebook page for future writing.
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I too had to look up “ninguid” and every time I write it, it’s highlighted as misspelled! I do love that stanza with winter swooping. When we have a storm, it is like that, some unseen being making us uneasy! And I love the extended metaphor, Molly. I agree with Kat and Margaret, the final line is all you need. Beautiful poem! We have had the strangest winter. It was 70 degrees yesterday and it’s supposed to snow tomorrow! Happy Weekend!
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Thanks for the feedback, Linda. I’m definitely going to keep playing with that final stanza. Our winter has been odd as well–lots of bitter cold and then a few days of relative warmth. It’s unsettling. I’m hoping the plants can figure it all out!
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I love the final stanza — the idea that we are safe and warm… lucky because that isn’t what winter is about for every creature. . . If it isn’t sitting with you though, you could revise… take out the first line since the second shows us you are safe in your home.
we sleep in warm feathered beds
and shift uneasily
beautiful winter poem.
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Thanks for reading and taking the time to give me some feedback. I’m going to take a couple of days away from the poem and then come back and see what I think. Often that helps clarify the whole thing!
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I enjoyed this poem a lot. I love the cold’s talons and pockets of dark like whispers. I agree with your conflicting feelings about the last stanza. On one hand, it can be effective to have a contrast, but it seems abrupt to me. I love everything else. You might just want to end with the image of the rabbit’s cry. Overall, excellent job!
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Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts. I really do appreciate it. It’s funny when you know something isn’t quite right, yet you can’t put your finger on it. That’s when having a regular writing group would be so helpful! Thanks for serving that purpose today (along with a few other generous souls!).
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I applaud your writing persistence when slogging is what’s happening. Speaking of mice. Well, your poetry referenced rabbits. Hannah has trapped a mouse each of the last four nights in her car. Do you have such mice issues in your vehicles? Her car is in our garage. Must be a helluva nest near the engine block! Do you have a link to one of your poems about such mice?
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Sounds like Hannah should write a poem about her experiences! I’ve had unfortunate morbid experiences with mouse nests in my car that transformed it into the “death mobile.” The stench…..ugh…My favorite mouse poem is Rose Fyleman’s “Mice” (https://allpoetry.com/poem/8622761-Mice-by-Rose-Fyleman) which may not suit your situation. I love it because I can so clearly remember my grandmother reciting it to me.
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Wow, that word ninguid is new to me and I probably have to ask Mr. Google. I learned one new word today. Thank you for sharing a beautiful poem.
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Discovering new words is such fun! This one is new to me as well and I’m hopeful that since I used it, I’ll actual remember it! 😉
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Molly, your poem captures winter’s underlying menace perfectly. The silence of our winter nights are shattered by howling coyotes, which definitely causes us to “shift uneasily” in our beds! I love the owl metaphor, and I had to look up ninguid, too. What a great word!
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Thanks, Catherine. Those coyotes are eerie sounding, aren’t they? I believe “ninguid” is somewhat obsolete, but I love how it sounds. You can check out “niveous” as well–I think it’s related to Christie’s subnivean zone!
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Molly, this is gorgeous. I love the language and metaphors. I agree about the end–I’m not sure you need all the words you have. Fewer might work even better.
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Thanks, Liz. I really appreciate all the feedback. What a wonderful community this is!
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Such strong images capture winter’s beauty and danger.
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You’ve cast a vivid picture of winter in all her glory and ills, this stanza particularly moved me,
“Winter stretches her wings
soars in silent flight then
swoops
with lethal grace”
Thanks for sharing your WIP Molly!
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Thanks, Michelle. This winter seems more capricious than most! We have another delay this morning due to freezing rain and ice but are anticipating highs near 50 this afternoon!
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