Winter Morning Poetry

Grey blankets on the ground
Sandwiched under by navy
Sit and watch the silence
Watch it, till it’s pierced
By a single long beep,
As the grey turns to white
And the navy to bright,
And as the soft white underneath
Is tiled by a tarmac sheet
With a beep beep bleep,
The day has begun.

Just your typical snowy winter morning poetry.

Bless snow removal workers.

Picture credits blatantly go to Pinterest because even with just a door separating me from the outdoors, I refuse to venture any more outdoors than I have to, and with my classes being done for today (and the week), I refuse to go near this “outside”.

 

 

Shades of Sunday

Sundays
Traditionally quiet
And quiet in reality
But there’s a buzz
That cannot be heard
Even by the few that pass by
Cogs whirring and plans cementing
Wasn’t the weekend the outlet of the bold?
Not so this damp morning;
Dreams of a Monday
Steadily carving
In the recesses of the mind
And into the rhythms of time

Elevated,
But only in location
Planning out the rest of the week
Kept amused
By a tree stump sticking out
Into a mountain of shovelled snow,
Interesting to no one else
But all I can see as I look out
On this damp, empty day.
Where did the world creep away?
There’s no one else here
Empty, post apocalyptic;
But calming, in some odd way.

It’s funny how your perceptions of Sunday are always changing, depending on who you are. Is Sunday your rest day? Is it the day to catch up on cartoons? Is Sunday morning, as Kurt Cobain said, everyday? Or perhaps as Lou Reed said, a time when the world’s behind you?
To me, it’s the calm before the storm, in every single way.
Universities tend to be quiet on weekends. Every person who walks by is a case to be thoroughly examined, Sunday is when they won’t be lost in the masses. It’s the morning after Saturday’s madness and a chance to catch your breath. For me, it brings the excitement of the next week, the Monday when I do my radio work, and a chance to do my homework and chill out simultaneously, without being guilty.

Ah, the many shades of a Sunday! How’s your Sunday?

51B0A5CE-382C-4729-BF5A-D68A36ED7EB6
The shadowy shades of a different Sunday, as I could see it. 

Sea-Change

I can’t see

What lies beneath the surface

Clean, white, pristine

Sands without a colour

But certainly not without personality.

Smooth, flat ground,

Icy slips,

Treacherous dips;

And I can’t see

So I simply place faith

And take a step ahead

Only to fall knee-deep

Into the sky’s puke.

 

It’s started to snow! I’ve already gone and fallen into a thigh-high pit of snow by walking where I thought there was ground, which is a perfect way to begin the winter season. Here’s to four more months!

66051383-461E-46A3-993A-6DF08D78EAA3
Of this, just five feet higher, colder, and more miserable and devoid of motivation. Yeah, your welcome for me brightening your morning. 

Freeze Frame

Fall’s reign is over. 

It’s a wonder of sorts that I am remotely able to say this, given the state of my fingers. If you’ve ever felt like the cold is so bad you’re afraid your nose or even your fingers might fall off, be thankful it was mostly only rhetoric in your case.

Check out this poor guy.

That’s the very same tree I’ve been plaguing like a paparazzi would a slippery star, all month long, and it’s finally lost all its leaves to winter’s incoming onslaught.

I suppose that means I can’t take any more pictures of it (and you poor folks are finally rid of my tree photography).

I’ve also got to admit this post is a bit of a test. I’ve been wielding my phone camera like a hungry kid would a spoon at dinnertime… assuming they weren’t eating bread. Fortunately for me, there’s tons of stuff out here and my camera’s looking sharp (quite literally, you see) and my memory isn’t. 

(On that note I should probably mention I have a midterm tomorrow.)

I’ve got more pictures on me than space, I fear, both on my phone and on WordPress. 

And before you sigh in relief, I’ll let you know I’ve been solution-seeking. 

Tumblr!

It’s super easy to upload photographs there and simply embed them into WordPress instead. So you’ll probably never be rid of me. Never ever! 

(evil cackles are heard in the foreground as ghostly laments moan in the background, almost seemingly as if they were screaming out “Nooooooooo” in agony. A few terrified birds shoot out of their nests with alarmed cries and take refuge in the skies as the sun dips down and begins to hand over its reigns to the night. In the silvery, gloomy twilight, the dying day seems to reflect the reader’s despair as they hunt, fruitlessly for that ‘Unsubscribe’ button…)

I’m honestly not that bad though, you know. 

Daggers

You there? December just called. It wanted its gimmick back.

It said, October, what the (expletive deleted)?! You have Halloween! You freaking have falling leaves and back-to-schools! You even have your own rains! Why are you stealing my thunder!?

October could just sit there coolly and not care less.

Coolly might be an understatement though. October’s defying all patterns known to and loved by psychologists and meteorologists.

The leaves and still here, and half of them are still green. The temperatures change every day, but this has taken the cake:

7462350A-A002-4F4E-BE75-B6B41531F0E2

The first snow showers, in October. It was admittedly more like a few chunks of ice, but you see the one piece that doesn’t belong here, don’t you? It’s only still October! My sister back home is sweltering in the plus thirties, and here, there are ice daggers falling from the skies. It’s ridiculous. It’s October.

And all the chemistry they taught me was a lie. Water doesn’t freeze at zero degrees. It froze at four (to be fair, ice does melt beyond four, but). All those benzene rings, for nothing. All that hyperconjugation and moles of pain for nothing. All those wasted chemistry puns.

Fuck you, high school chemistry, and no deleted expletives.

If you want me, I’ll be in the corner crying in denial and writing more chemistry poetry.

For real though, it’s my first time in the snow, so you’ll probably find me out at four in the coldest hour of the morning hunting for ice shards with a ridiculous determination on my face (it was only 9 PM, but that’s exactly the state my friend found me in, so it’s no exaggeration!)

I dunno, should I say happy fall, like I usually do? It’s more like ‘kiss your expectations goodbye’ now…

So happy curveballs, y’all!

Just for the record, that tree is losing leaves like I’m losing steam.

FD759E73-39BD-4E7D-8BB0-3EADDAE493F2
It doesn’t look all that bad from one angle…

A6927E38-248E-4A57-A9B4-BBDAC02DBAE3
But just wait till you get to know its other side. 

Quite like a certain someone I can think of.