#WritingCommnunity #writersnetwork #poetry #poem “Pale phantoms of winter from the north”

Pale phantoms of winter from the north
Ghostly warriors with hearts as cold as brute steel
Faces set like flint for the struggles ahead
Shoulders cloaked by rivers of white locks
Flowing out from beneath helmets of steel
Embossed with images recounting tales of past triumphs
Now upon their southbound voyage on great longships
With huge figuregeads of dragons and snakes
Slice through the icy waters with oars
As hard as the hearts of the mariners aboard
Eyes of piercing white like the blue light
Spread across a crystal clear northern sky
Blinded to suffering by exposure to the relentless snow and ice
Upon which they drive packs of wolves dragging their sledges
They sail to storm ramparts to the castles of the southern islands
Armed with brute force and weaponry of cold steel
Sharpened on escarpments of bright white glaciers
And unremitting freezing northern winds
Drenched by deluges of rain onto the unsuspecting target they swarm
Ruthless and merciless despite the plight and pleas
Of their defenseless victims
They roll out catastrophic devastation like a sea of ice
Their mission is soon achieved in a battle
Their unarmed enemies had not entered into
As they raze and pillage the realm
They make off with the spoils of war
Looting the treasures of the vanquished
With no use for these themselves
Save for the thrill of the conquest
Before departing the theatre of the vandalised kingdom
While the survivors destroyed by loss and grief
Are left to clear the land littered with the remains of a senseless demolition
d.a.simpson ©

#poem #poetry my recent verse “The edict has been signed”.

The edict has been signed

The winter can commence

The exquisite vibrant silken threads of autumnal glories

Are now unceremoniously unravelled

The frieze is tightly grasped

Screwed up into a rough ball and flung dismissively

Into a nearby bonfire

Whose glorious glowing embers swallow whole

The oranges and bronzes of its welcome meal

Disdaining the trifling scene

Winter draws a curtain of thick black velvet

Over the tableau with a melodramatic flourish

That signals the end of the act

A robin’s bright red breast

Along with a scattering of ruby berries

Mere splashes of colour upon a dour scene

The world entire now hibernates awhile

Until brusque winds clear away the detritus of winter

With a sharp blast of cool clean air

Aa the dormant world rises from the ashes of autumnal fires

Consumed by vernal slumber

To burst onto the scene clad from head to toe

In the bright spring colours of emerald greens

Shiny new whites and light smiling yellows

d.a.simpson ©