Daily Verse
Week 1, December 2023
Moving On
by Pris Campbell 4th December, 2023, 2023
My ‘68 VW waits at the curb,
engine running to warm it enough
for pistons to move it smoothly
through the ice-bound roads
out of Boston to my job.
Pans of water, boiled two flights
of stairs in the upstairs duplex,
radiators clanging a symphony,
soon melt enough ice front
and back to scrape patches of clear glass
to see in these days before automatic heaters.
The old lady next door comes out
dressed in her thick gray coat
to stand in the dark with me,
offers horror stories about driving in snow
when ‘she was young’. Disappears quickly
back into her home when a slosh
of ice barely misses her.
Now to see if the front door latch,
loosened enough to open, will pop
back out to close after me and I can be
on my way.
Today, it’s stubborn.
Another bout with the lighter is useless.
I open front and back windows ,
grab my tow rope from the trunk
to climb in and tie the door shut.
I picture my boss —
I’m late. I’m late for a very important date.
The VW and I head down the road, wind
restyling my hair, soaking my coat.
My hands and toes are numb.
Next year I’ll move south, I promise myself.
Next year for sure.
Seasons
by Milan Raj Kumar 5th December, 2023
how feeble
this spring sunlight –
yet her memories
this emptiness
of whistling ducks –
Loktak in summer​
( Loktak lake which is in Manipur)
falling autumn leaves –
she combs her long hair
again and again
dawn chorus—
a small lump of snow
chirps from a pine branch
Beneath the Seasons & Love
By Emiraldo Prifti 6th December 2023
In the clumsy winter, I like immersing myself in
its lethargy,
close to the crackling fireplace with a book in
hand.
I adore spring as it blooms with the crimson blush
of the peach blossoms,
and I look for the summer in the olive trees
along the distant hills.
As I recline in a sturdy wooden chair, the rays of
the autumn sun fall steeply
between the branches. I, hope to borrow a little
from my muse.
The trees surrender their golden leaves to the
autumn, dropping them carelessly.
The first ones just touch the dense ground
when my grandmother asks me,
"Which season do you like the most?"
My childish heart couldn't discern differences
back then. I shrugged.
The old loom. Woven carpets hanging. Spinning
cotton. Trees.
‘’Love has seasons,’’ she whispered. I raise my
eyebrows.
She chuckles, her wrinkles deepening in her
snowy face.
Was each one a mark of the seasons she had
weathered?
Time has come for me to give her some dormant
answers. And I start to write:
Subject: Seasons
I didn't know that love has seasons until my
grandmother told me once.
Poems on Seasons
by Bonnie Scherer 7th December 2023
a change in me
a change in you —
seasons
spring’s hope
summer’s bloom
autumn’s chill
winter’s gloom …
my seasons too
hope springs eternal
in the fall of my life –
the slow burn of a long night
Winter Freeze
By Pushpa Parekh 8th December 2023
I look at the dates
that string moments
and memories
across the face of time
and a corner
of certainty
falls apart,
I am opening
the folds of
a memory
slowly
draping it
across winters
of cold and frost
stifled hopes
and undying fears
Slowly
I drape it
across my heart
my soul
the tips of my bare feet
and feel the warmth
of coming alive.
Biographies of Poets
