Poetry of the Soul

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. ~Thomas Gray

Rantipole January 7, 2010

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 6:39 pm

Frigid wakefulness

Blood nearly stopped,


Pink cheeks, nose

Rubbed raw by chill

Eyes watering,

A forced mourning of nature’s death

Yearning for healing snow

And a warm blanket of clouds

To envelope the earth.

Awake, Alert, Alive

Fully, Finally, Fiddlesticks.

Unknown eyes watching

Disgracefully unabashed

From tree branch walls

Built in secret, gradually,

Overtime, by unseen hands

Constant spies,

Not yet dormant from winter’s

Sleeping powder, view every move,

A masterpiece meant for someone

Else’s eyes, yet done in private,

Among the bark and leaves,

As close to nature as can be,

A clothing of pale ice-pricked skin

The only veil of separation

A constant, cool, consummation

Revives, Relights, Rantipole.

(c) Lauren Otheim – 2010

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2 Responses to “Rantipole”

  1. jon Says:

    Silly and vivid, a painting with words. Well done! But you should get a coat, maybe a blanket! lol, hypothermia is no fun

  2. laurenmichelleotheim Says:

    Thank you! Haha, I had a coat! No worries. 🙂 I did sit out there for about an hour in the snow though…

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