HAIKU: HOME TO THE SEA

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Ancient Snow Turned To

Ice, Glaciers Carving Fiords

HAIKU: SNOWFLAKE WORDS

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Snowflake Words Fall Down

HAIKU: THE CHRISTMAS TREE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

The Christmas Tree Shines

HAIKU: WINTER WONDERLAND – REPRISE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

A Blanket Of Snow

#143 POETRY =

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Poetry =

the snow’s

HAIKU: WINTER WONDERLAND

By Charles Robert Lindholm

A Blanket Of Snow

Magical III

It’s magical this snow-cast light
the icing sugar dust
as slowly things are covered
and capture it I must

Iron-chill the Northern blast
makes minus five feel raw
yet still the child within me yearns
for snow on snow and more

Househound here the nation wanes
to bleak midwinter flow
But doesn’t really mind because
there’s nowhere else to go

Snow n me

It wasn’t very nice
in my field this week you know
Cos my paws felt very cold
in some white stuff they call snow

I had a double layer
(my red jumper and a coat)
but my paws still feel the cold
(I’m just saying, make a note)

Sussex snows

I said no snow
in Sussex fell
but spoke too soon
(how could I tell)?
the temperature
would fall so quick
and the isobars
take such a dip
allowing white stuff
here to fall
at beckon to
the winter’s call

No snow Sussex

In Yorkshire it was snowing
I heard online today
whereas down south in Sussex
it was simply dull and grey
In fact I can’t remember
the last time snow I saw
must have been some years ago
before a winter’s thaw

HAIKU: WINTER WONDERLAND

By Charles Robert Lindholm

A Blanket Of Snow

HAIKU: HOME TO THE SEA

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Ancient Snow Turned To

Ice, Glaciers Carving Fiords

Cold Sun

Sharp shadows jag over bare branches
frost nips and tucks

They must be laughing

They must be laughing up in Norway
or in Canada you know
at the fuss we make in England
when we have a little snow

Sides they must be splitting
Out in Russia, Moscow way
as our headlines speak of chaos
caused by snow that fell today

They said there’d be snow

They said there’d be snow
Well, its cold enough
and there’s frost over all every day
But the sea air down here
on these southern shores
always seems to get well in the way

Yes, there have been falls
which have settled for days
in the past I remember quite well
But it’s still quite a rarity
for us in these parts
when snow of the settling kind fell

HAIKU: THE CHRISTMAS TREE – REPRISE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

The Christmas Tree Shines

HAIKU: WINTER WONDERLAND

By Charles Robert Lindholm

A Blanket Of Snow

HAIKU: HOME TO THE SEA

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Ancient Snow Turned To

Ice, Glaciers Carving Fiords

HAIKU: THE SUNSHINE OF SPRING

By Charles Robert Lindholm

The Sunshine Of Spring

Melts The Snow On The Mountains

The last of it…?

Thought we’d seen the last of it
in the sunshine yesterday
So little did we spare a thought
for more snow on the way
And yet first thing this morning
another blanket on the ground
white replacing yellow
with snowfall all around

Like a whisper

Icing sugar on the road
a dusting overnight
the sun glow in the eastern sky
still a glorious sight

Cold there is no doubt of that
minus six and falling
but the crystal air is lovely
on this chilly winter morning

No Fishing

The seagulls were hopeful
as they flew overhead
But the fisherman’s stayed
nice and warm in his bed

And his boat remains covered
with tarpaulin and snow
His nets and his lines
packed away and in stow

Small dogs and the cold stuff

On the ground out the back
by the door in the snow
paw prints out there
with some evidence show
that although I’m uncertain
of the white stuff out there
I’ve been brave and I’ve ventured
outside for a dare

Somewhere cold

In the summer I sit here
and soak up the sun
but sitting here now
would be cold on the bum

The lavenders’ branches
whilst still with its green
are flecked now with white
from the snow that has been

The white blanket

So rare the white blanket
on this Southern shore
that part of me wishes
there was sometimes more
A very small part though
and I mean it no ill
But I couldn’t live long
with this iron chill

A winter poem, for children

personal photo

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White is winter.

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Drifting snow showers those below.

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Ice

the ice jam of words

long lodged in the back of my throat

has begun to melt

syllable by delicious syllable

that tickle going down

roil in my gut

-02.02.18_00:13-

Fat flakes
Fill the air