Photo by Barbara Anstie

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The depth of it exceptional, and all
at once she lies and sits and stands below.
She smiles, then in her mind she skips, her paws
tread deeply in the soft white powdered snow.

An icy East wind hails from far away,
intemperate continental clime it brings,
that covers food so blackbirds cannot find
sufficient energy to brace their wings.

Out there, beyond the hill, the homeless lie,
reciting tunelessly an unheard poem,
they fight an urge to yield to hopelessness,
and longing for a crackling log-fired home.

We look in warmth, contentment unalloyed,
at children with their snow dog, overjoyed.

© 2013 John Anstie

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[Poetic notes: This poem looks like a sonnet, in that it has fourteen lines, arranged into four quatrains and a concluding couplet, and it is written in iambic pentameter. But that is where the similarity ends. The…

Agony soaking in blues.
Scared, angry and slightly confused.
You have the power.
You don’t have to lose.

Hold on with all your might.
After darkness will come light.
This is your battle. This is your life.
Don’t run.
You turn and you fight.

Hold your head. You hold your weight.
Stop running. You stand and you wait.
Too long you’ve hurt and you’ve cried.
Over and over you’ve fought and you’ve tried.
Life is baking. It’s not yet fried.
Take control– you still have time.

Started at the bottom

Worked my way to the top

Climbed the rungs of the ladder

Just to stand on top

Continued to strive

Learned the ropes over time

Arrived at the end

Just to start again

***

Started with nothing

Worked all day and night

Climbed many mountains

Just to see the sunrise

Continued my passions

Learned to follow my heart

Arrived at my destinations

Just to seek a head start