Three poems
by: Nicolas Dohre
Lady Winter
I must confess, Lady Winter, that thou hast caught my eye your shimmering beauty through your pale skin as blank as fresh canvas. You will wisp into my year slowly and paint me a milky sky. I cannot help but look at your freshness as tame as you can be. Frolicing in puny howls and unbecoming sunlight quicker with every day.
But I digress, Lady Winter, for your beauty has deeper meaning. With every coming of thyself you bring me love.
But thy love is cold.
Mother Earth struggles and trembles then is suddenly so still. For it is you, Lady Winter, her warmth that thou have killed. Radiance and greenery falls solemnly to depression and ice. For this reason I must look past your beauty
and thus, Lady Winter, I must hate you.
Amnesia.
There and away again. My images come and go.
Pictures float across my mind, mixed like alphabet soup. I want
to know what they are. I want to know who they contain. I want
to know when they happened to me. Who I was back then. I want
to know.
But I digress. They are out of reach.
Desperation melts to acceptance.
Memories fade to grey.
I cannot remember.
It’s okay.
Oh, Passenger
Time goes by expeditiously with every passing tick and yet you wait until I’m loathsome to pay your visit. I can be high up and living content, free from your evil clutch. Envisioning a life without you, I pray for my near future as such.
Oh sweet passenger, must we go back and forth?
You plague me with your presence and thus I am forced to hide. You talk and I know you do not hear my plea. My reason. You hang my head low with counterfeit sacrilege. You taunt me and I know it!
Oh passenger, my other half.
I choose to detest your confession.
However,
although you are vile, you are a cog in my machine. Every next of your departures leaves another lesson. Oh passenger, you’ve matured me.
Less than perfect, as a human being should be.
You leave me humbled, anxiety,
my sinister little passenger.
by: Nicolas Dohre
Lady Winter
I must confess, Lady Winter, that thou hast caught my eye your shimmering beauty through your pale skin as blank as fresh canvas. You will wisp into my year slowly and paint me a milky sky. I cannot help but look at your freshness as tame as you can be. Frolicing in puny howls and unbecoming sunlight quicker with every day.
But I digress, Lady Winter, for your beauty has deeper meaning. With every coming of thyself you bring me love.
But thy love is cold.
Mother Earth struggles and trembles then is suddenly so still. For it is you, Lady Winter, her warmth that thou have killed. Radiance and greenery falls solemnly to depression and ice. For this reason I must look past your beauty
and thus, Lady Winter, I must hate you.
Amnesia.
There and away again. My images come and go.
Pictures float across my mind, mixed like alphabet soup. I want
to know what they are. I want to know who they contain. I want
to know when they happened to me. Who I was back then. I want
to know.
But I digress. They are out of reach.
Desperation melts to acceptance.
Memories fade to grey.
I cannot remember.
It’s okay.
Oh, Passenger
Time goes by expeditiously with every passing tick and yet you wait until I’m loathsome to pay your visit. I can be high up and living content, free from your evil clutch. Envisioning a life without you, I pray for my near future as such.
Oh sweet passenger, must we go back and forth?
You plague me with your presence and thus I am forced to hide. You talk and I know you do not hear my plea. My reason. You hang my head low with counterfeit sacrilege. You taunt me and I know it!
Oh passenger, my other half.
I choose to detest your confession.
However,
although you are vile, you are a cog in my machine. Every next of your departures leaves another lesson. Oh passenger, you’ve matured me.
Less than perfect, as a human being should be.
You leave me humbled, anxiety,
my sinister little passenger.