Loves New Spring – A Pantoum

Yesterday evening was my final creative writing class…

The exercise was to write a story or poem about the ‘Last’ of something.

I bravely decided to write a Pantoum about the last day of Winter.

If you are not familiar with that form of poetry, it is quite restrictive and complicated.

The rhyming pattern is ABAB and the second and fourth line of the first stanza become the first and third of the second stanza, then the final stanza also has the first and third lines of the first stanza repeated as the second and last lines.  I said it was complicated, didn’t I?

Anyway here it is:

Loves New Spring

The final days of Winter came at last,

But still held the world in her icy grasp.

I looked back on dark days that had passed,

And feel loves painful grip unclasp.

 

It still held the world in her icy grasp,

But Winters harsh hand seemed to lift.

I feel loves painful grip unclasp,

Time healing that deep emotional rift.

 

The Winters harsh hand seems to lift,

And robins above begin their singing.

Time healing that deep emotional rift.

The pain around my heart unclinging.

 

Red robins above begin their singing,

Heralding winters passing breath.

The Pain around my heart unclinging,

But still, I cry for our love’s death.

 

In heralding winters passing breath,

I look back on dark days that have passed.

I mourned for our love’s fateful death,

Now Winter’s time recedes at last.

 

The End

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 06/July/2018

 

FOWC with Fandango — Love

A Snowy time in the Peak District

A couple of weekends ago I spent a few days up in the Peak District, which is in Northern England.

I actually stayed near Macclesfield, which is in the county of Cheshire, not far from the City of Manchester, but most of the Peak District is in the county of Derbyshire.

At the time, we had a smattering of snow where I live, but nothing much. Up in this part of the peaks however, it was another story. They had had a couple of feet of snow a few days before I arrived, and with day temperatures remaining below zero centigrade here, it wasn’t going anywhere.

It does make for some lovely pictures and I thought I would share them with you.

 

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This is the old Victorian gardens in the Town of Buxton in Derbyshire.

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This is the sign for the Cat and Fiddle pub, which is on one of the high spots on the road from Macclesfield to Buxton. Sometimes, this road is closed in the winter.

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This is the town of Bakewell in Derbyshire, a few miles south of where I was staying. They didn’t have any snow here at all. This is where the famous Bakewell Tarts and Puddings come from, so I had to stop off to buy a few.

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I hope you like the pictures.

Have a great weekend. 🙂

 

Winters Last Hurrah – A comic poem.

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I switch on the Television

To see what the forecast has in store.

There’s another blasted hurricane,

Headed straight towards the shore!

Well, it’s better than that blizzard

That hit all of us last week,

I feel at the moment were all in

Some long unlucky streak.

It started cold and icy

And I thought that’s a bad as it would get,

But now the weather’s decided

To Combine both cold and wet.

The weather seems determined

To punish humankind,

I know we deserve it, but

I hope that we will find,

That this is winters last hurrah

It’s one full and final fling,

And in a week, or two or three,

There’ll come a marvellous, joyous, Spring.

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Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 25/January/2019

 

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/25/rdp-friday-forecast/

FOWC with Fandango — Determined

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/01/25/your-daily-word-prompt-marvelous-january-25-2019/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/25/combine/comment-page-1/#comment-6788

 

100-word story – Operation Frost

The suspicious package was classified ‘Top Secret’ but it had fallen into the wrong hands. Their hands.

Reading the documents revealed that the world’s climate was being manipulated, tightly controlled by one man who sat in his fortress. Governments around the world were being blackmailed to support him. One by one democratic leaders were replaced by puppets.

There were still pockets of resistance, but that’s where Operation Frost came in.

Cold arctic blasts would roll in across the continent.

Now they knew the truth, there was little they could do.

Winter was coming and it was going to be nuclear.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 30/November/2018

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/30/rdp-friday-frost/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/11/30/your-daily-word-prompt-suspicious-november-30-2018/

Manic Mondays 3-Way Challenge – The Ice Witch of Norway.

This story was written in response to Laura M Bailey’s challenge. See Link:

https://alltheshoesiwear.wordpress.com/2018/10/15/manic-mondays-3-way-prompt-witch-witchy-bewitched/

You may also wish to read my previous entry for the 3-way challenge:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2018/10/01/manic-mondays-3-way-challenge-so-hungry-are-the-damned-a-dark-poem/

Screenshot_20181014-105816_Google

 

The Ice Witch of Norway

There was a Witch who lived in a simple hut in the mountains of the far north of Norway.

The Winters were long and harsh and ravaged the land between October and early May.

During the Winter months, the people huddled together in their wooden houses around the fire and prayed for the Spring.

The Witch lived alone in the hill and seemed to delight in the snow, dancing and capering on all but the most terrible snow storms.

People started to believe that this woman was responsible for bringing the winter that she seemed to enjoy so much.

It was her fault that the Winters were so harsh. It was her fault that the lambs and kids born early would perish in the late winter frosts.

After one particularly bad blizzard, the menfolk gathered in the beer house drinking the last of their precious brew.

“Something has got to be done!” Cried Olav Harkensson.

“She was out dancing again last night,” agreed Nils Thorssen, “There were lights flashing in the sky, bright greens. She was casting a spell. Bringing this storm down upon us, no doubt”.

As the menfolk talked and drank, they began to grow braver and more stupid. They no longer feared the magic that the Witch could bring down upon them. This winter had been particularly bad, it was nearly May and it was still not showing signs of departing. Eventually, they grabbed torches and pitchforks and went to find the witch.

The blizzard had passed but it was still snowing lightly as they climbed up the mountain path onto the high plateau where the Witch lived. Her hut was built near the steep side of a mountain, near a frozen waterfall and the snow-covered meadow that she danced in.

She must have sensed their presence because the door opened and she strode out, tall and proud to meet them.

Her long red hair caught in the wind and flapped around her white face. Her dark wool cloak also flapped like a banner in the cold icy air.

Defiantly she stood in front of her simple hut.

“What do you want?” She shouted in a clear voice that carried and echoed around the valley.

Olav Harkensson, who was the self-appointed leader of the group, stepped forward.

“Leave this place, you foul Witch and take this accursed Winter away with you!”

The Witch threw back her head and laughed.

“And what if I fail to acquiesce to your request? What will you do then?”

The angry mob drew back from the glare of her eyes. Some people made the sign of the cross across their fur-clad chests. A young firebrand by the name of Magnus Vigmir ran forward, either braver than the rest or drunker and threw his flaming torch at the Witch’s hut.

Despite the snow, the timber caught alight quickly and within a short moment, the hut was ablaze.

Boldened by this move, the men rushed forward brandishing their pitchforks.

Before they could reach her, the Witch wrapped her black cloak around her and transformed into an enormous raven.

The mob shouted in horror and clung to each other in fear like little boys.

The raven flew around them and the Witches voice called out.

“Fools, You Fools! It was not I who brought the Winter. The Winter clings hard to all the lands this far north, but I summoned the Spring every year followed by the Summer. I could only do this for a few months before Winter returned to claim what is rightfully hers. Now I will leave to find somewhere else to call home.”

The Raven flew away to the west and was never seen again. The Spring never came that year and the people either perished or moved further south and closer to the sea. To this day, that valley in the far north of Norway is known as the Valley of Eternal Winter.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 16/October/2018

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/10/16/your-daily-word-prompt-acquiesce-october-16-2018/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/18/rdp-thursday-blizzard/