Nordic cloud

Feb 01, 2010 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)

SMOKE HIBERNATE

Smoke

storm

trees blown

woods fuss

houses snuggle

down the drains

are frozen

solid

the roads are white

higher

smoke smogging

bogs under

leaves frozen

bushes

strange species

faeces dogs

steam

breeze jogging

reflectors flashing

dark bushes

wet black

summit

moon risen

derision

down

flopping fringed

feather falling

white light soft

dropping

eddies curled

in corners fizzing

sparks

indigo sky

— Nordic cloud, Feb 01, 2010

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: Oslo and Flatdal, Norway., NOR

Favorite Poets: Too daunting this.

Critiques

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

I think this poem quite

I think this poem quite frankly needs to be one of a select few at the top of anyone's list. Well done!!! Congradulations. Did I tell you I love it? I sing your song of colour and touch Poetry. ~A "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

Nordic cloud

16 years 4 months ago

AWW Anna my sister my sister!

You send me smoke signals with your words, I see them from afar your beautiful magic curling mists that blaze and shine with jewelled light for me. I am pleased you liked the smoke that rose one morning from the houses of nearby into the cold sky receiving their magic warmth in swift dance and slow waltz about their neighbours chimneys, and inspired me to write about them. Love to dearest you Annskie bird.

Kailashana

16 years 4 months ago

I too, wrote of smoke.

I too, wrote of smoke. Perhaps more of a garden variety. ;-) Love, your sister from O hi O, ~A "What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pine

hugo la rosa

16 years 4 months ago

Very suggestive:

I guess a little more elaboration will hit the target. I'll like to know the subject or moral of the poem. Or this is a simple exercise in crazy wisdom? Which one will it be? Great effort, Hugo

Nordic cloud

16 years 4 months ago

An American trait a moral in all.

The contemplation of what is, is enough to inspire me, why should there always be a moral or even a story, what is, is, and that's it. A glance out of the window made into a tiny painting, a miniature if you like, not all things are noble and great and deal with life, things exist and not everyone sees them, then they will see when they read my poem here. No crazy wisdom, just something seen. Basho again:- The sea darkens the cries of the sea gulls are faintly white. Here is no moral no story no great idea and yet..............? Does that explain Hugo? Love Ann

Lonnie

16 years 4 months ago

A brief vision into a fleeting moment!

Ann, you've captured something here that is both concrete and ethereal at the same time! Wonderful imagery, coupled with a sense of poetic impatience! Love it!

DawningDaytripper

16 years 4 months ago

Hi Ann, I loved your bare

Hi Ann, I loved your bare simplicity. Something I could stand to work on, lol. I think smoke is an excellent subject. Native Americans used to use smoke signals from a wet fire to comminicate. I joke about it with my friends who live far away. Like you I guess. Sending you smoke signals of praise and love Ann! Good read! Your apt Pupil, Julie D.D. And any time you would like to work on Acrostic's, just let me know. They remind me of haikus, you have to communicate so much sometimes, with hardly any room. I Love the challenge. And really thier is few rules, all subject to wants of the Author.

lyz

16 years 3 months ago

Love it

Well bravo dear one. An excellent write. Down to earth and to the point. Love Lyz. XX