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    Parker Owens
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 37. Woodsmoke Season

Another short poem, and an one unusual for me.
 

Now is the woodsmoke season,

an hour of dancing snowflakes

and soot-sorrowed gutters;

days of sock ties

and handmade scarves that shout.

Here stretch weeks dressed in funeral clothes,

when forest and sky engage in grey conversation.

At dusk, I eavesdrop on the wind and river,

the pebbled shallows sharing jokes

with oak leaves reluctant to leave home,

and I wonder when

I’ll scent the warming earth again.

Comments and brickbats are equally welcome. You can leave them both. Or neither.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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  • Site Administrator

You've nailed the melancholy of winter perfectly.  I especially liked "soot-sorrowed gutters".  To me, this screams January, when the festive part of winter is done, and the cold seeps in more profoundly and achingly.  Well done, as always.  :hug: 

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i had to come back to read again ... mmm yep.. beautiful real poetry..  love it

Edited by Mikiesboy
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29 minutes ago, Mikiesboy said:

If i am honest ... this is one of the best you've ever written. It has soul and feeling. To me this is what poetry is. Beautiful. Bravo.

 Thank you, tim. I’m very happy you thought it was good. You made me smile. 

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Here stretch weeks dressed in funeral clothes, 

when forest and sky engage in grey conversation.

 
So much ‘yes’ in those lines.. 
I agree with all the above comments..
Beautiful, Parker.  
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2 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

i had to come back to read again ... mmm yep.. beautiful real poetry..  love it

 

Now you just made me really smile. xo P

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2 hours ago, Valkyrie said:

You've nailed the melancholy of winter perfectly.  I especially liked "soot-sorrowed gutters".  To me, this screams January, when the festive part of winter is done, and the cold seeps in more profoundly and achingly.  Well done, as always.  :hug: 

 

Funny how the scent of woodsmoke evoked so many images. It is indeed an aching, penetrating cold we feel even as daylight slowly increases. 

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2 hours ago, BHopper2 said:

This poem made me feel like I was up north in the snow. Loved it.

 

Thank you for reading this. I am glad you felt what I tried to write. 

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1 hour ago, Defiance19 said:

Here stretch weeks dressed in funeral clothes, 

when forest and sky engage in grey conversation.

 
So much ‘yes’ in those lines.. 
I agree with all the above comments..
Beautiful, Parker.  

 

Thank you so much for reading this, and for your comments. I’m very happy these lines made Yes sound in your mind. 

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Poetry should evoke emotion when read, and this does just that, repeatedly. There's nostalgia and melancholy in each line that is deeply felt. Wonderful. 

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This is beautiful, Parker. I miss the smell of a fireplace on a cold and cloudy day. You brought many happy memories back to me.

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21 minutes ago, MacGreg said:

Poetry should evoke emotion when read, and this does just that, repeatedly. There's nostalgia and melancholy in each line that is deeply felt. Wonderful. 

 

I’m glad this one hit the mark. If images and emotions surfaced in this, then I’m happy. Thank you for reading this, and for your kind comments. 

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11 minutes ago, WolfM said:

This is beautiful, Parker. I miss the smell of a fireplace on a cold and cloudy day. You brought many happy memories back to me.

 

Just a whiff of woodsmoke on the air brings so many memories and images to mind. I’m glad this brought happy memories to you. Thank you so much for reading, and for your thoughts. 

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As I write this I can look out the widow at heavy gray scudding clouds and barren trees. The snow here in SC is falling in the form of large liquid drops rather than crystalline flakes and yet the scent of woodsmoke drifting on the morning breeze evokes memories of cold snowy days up north ... you captured the melancholy essence of those times. I can almost feel the cold in my bones.

Lovely.

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5 minutes ago, dughlas said:

As I write this I can look out the widow at heavy gray scudding clouds and barren trees. The snow here in SC is falling in the form of large liquid drops rather than crystalline flakes and yet the scent of woodsmoke drifting on the morning breeze evokes memories of cold snowy days up north ... you captured the melancholy essence of those times. I can almost feel the cold in my bones.

Lovely.

 

How easily a single scent can transform a moment into a kaleidoscope of images and memories. And how easy it is to grumble at the grey sky without really seeing it. Thank you for sniffing the air and seeing some of what I hoped you might see. 

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I suppose what I find so beautiful about this poem is how it effortlessly ties in the varied senses. Smell of woodsmoke, sight of dancing snowflakes, sound of wind and river; you seem to have involved the reader on the experiential level. In that way, you make the familiar serve to remind everyone to slow and let these sensations come to them in melancholy and joy. They are something to celebrate and treasure when the days are sweltering and oppressive. 

 

Bravo! 

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6 hours ago, AC Benus said:

I suppose what I find so beautiful about this poem is how it effortlessly ties in the varied senses. Smell of woodsmoke, sight of dancing snowflakes, sound of wind and river; you seem to have involved the reader on the experiential level. In that way, you make the familiar serve to remind everyone to slow and let these sensations come to them in melancholy and joy. They are something to celebrate and treasure when the days are sweltering and oppressive. 

 

Bravo! 

 

I’m immensely grateful for your comments and insights on this poem. For once, a series of disparate observations came together as a more unified theme. It helps me to share my experience of this time of year far better than I could with photos or even video. 

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