Winter Is Here

The cold bites,
my fingers hide curled inside my jacket pockets,
my face buried beneath my scarf,
wrapped to shield my visage.

Jacket donned, I walk,
snow silencing my every step,
periodically slipping on the ice.

Between near-face-plants,
and near misses by snowball ambushes,
I am relaxed.

There is nothing quite like the winter,
before it is set upon by,
the return of urbanization.

The heavenly time,
when the snow first falls,
blanketing us all beneath it,
and the world stops for just a little while,
to sink into its ambivalence.

Either basking in its beauty,
or gawking open-mouthed,
attempting to search for,
the snowy pit of despair,
their heart had fallen into,
by the snow shovel.

I am the former group however,
and there is no moment more magical,
than the silence brought upon,
by the first blanket of snow.

Untouched by any hands,
unscathed by dirt and car tires,
un-scorched by the tired curses of angry car owners,
un-extorted by the snowplow industry.

I know eventually, that it will be freezing rain and blizzards,
but I’m shoving it into the back of my mind, because I am going to make this a happy occasion, damn it!
Humming a happy tune, as I walk through the winter wonderland,
children making snow-forts, laughter filling the streets,
empty of cars, because they’re all stuck.

Icicles hang, refracting the light from all around.

Happy songs carry through the streets,
pleasant smiles and reddened cheeks,
greet you with a “good-day!”

I walk past houses,
catching faint glimmers of
the soft light from within.

I walk past canals,
where the ice has been carved
by the skates of carefree people,
gliding, almost flying through on the
December breeze.

All the while, a short ways away,
passionate hockey players smash heads,
but play on, kept warm by the fire in their veins.

Obligatory happy couples eat ice cream on a bench,
yes, ice cream, I live in Canada.

I go home for a quiet night in,
and a nice hot chocolate,
simmering to perfection,
its sweet smell wafting through the air.

A yuletide movie plays in the background,
lovely music unpolluted by anything from Disney.

Let it snow, let it snow,

Yeah, that’s not what you thought I was going to say, was it?

All of this, plus Eddard Stark, serves as a wonderful reminder,
that winter, is here.

Now, time to do that damned driveway….

And Since We Have No Place To Go…..

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Welcome readers, to the end of November, and the beginning of December.

At the turning of the month, I am both sad and happy.

Sad, because I was unable to complete the NaBloPoMo challenge, due to my spectacular internet, being nothing but a pain in the backside for the last couple of weeks. I now have a backlog of content, which I will be posting over the next little while.

Happy, however, for this coming month is one of my favourites of the year. It is the time, when I can finally embrace the spirit of the holidays, and the beautiful threshold of eternity that is the Canadian winter.

To get things kicked off, you might notice that M.C. Scriptor is snowing. This is a very nice and festive aesthetic brought to you by the wonderful people at WordPress. In addition to that however, I am making some changes and additions to the blog, starting with the rather outdated about page, which I have now re-written. ( http://mcscriptor.com/about/ )

There is plenty to come my friends, and I look forward to being around the blog more this month! See you soon! -M.C. Scripturus

The Frost Lies on the Ground

The frost lies on the ground,
he brings with him the chilling air,
crisp to the touch, stinging the throat.

He is the coffin in which the autumn’s leaves lie,
crunching underfoot, floating in the dying breeze.
He is the bitter edge on the wind, the one which reddens faces.
He is the floral death sentence, the gardener’s foe.
The weatherman’s quarrel, the Canadian curse.

He drives off geese, exiles squirrels,
banishes rabbits, and makes bears dreary.

He is the bringer of mittens, hats and scarves,
he is the bringer of hot drinks, and crackling fires.
Bringer of blankets, warm and deep,
and giver of car starting headaches.

He is the herald of the winter,
the messenger of snow.

He is the frost which the ground bears today.

The Threshold of Eternity

I’m a Canadian, and as some of you might know, Canadians stereotypically like to complain about the weather. I had that stereotype in mind today… now, I can’t say its true for all of us, but it is true for me. So, to express my frustration with nature, I have created this series of poems: Continue reading

Winter Haiku Poems

Inspired by my memories of falling on the ice when out for a walk, several times this winter… along with some memory of the beauty the winter held at times… I present to you, 3 haiku poems about winter…
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Face plant

My face shapes the snow

when I slip and fall to ground

snow angles always there…
Continue reading