Hi all,

Encouraged by your nice words, here is another poem with a lot of alliteration. I hope you enjoy it!

Winter revelation

imagine iridescence icy, intimate

the fragile fragrance of frosted firs

in fog fenced fields afar

the world a wizened window

winter wonder white

a perfect peace projecting path

simple silence stretching straight

roving radiance ransoming reality

behold holistic harmony

a brook belatedly babbling

burbling, brightly bedecked

sonorously sustaining the silence serene

no more making meandering movements

of mishap mostly motley

before the breaking of blue blossom blight

scattered sunstrokes shining

selectively, shivering solemnly

a waning winter well

clouds creating, captivating

cohesive contrasts crystal clear

careless crayons coloured cold

pastel paints perverted

strokes of silence stifled, stillness

tragical tokens of timelessness

eternal eclectic eventlessness

majestic momentous mystery

behold, holistic harmony

© copyright W.L.M. Geeraets

Warm regards, Wim

Wow. I loved that poem.

Well, you're no one hit wonder that's for sure Really, really lovely. I have no idea how you do it. I was instantly reminded of those incredible Winter photos you posted (cannot remember the tree name) - the poem is equally sublime and delicate. Some of my favorite lines:

roving radiance ransoming reality

sonorously sustaining the silence serene

tragical tokens of timelessness



And you've used a form of the word 'meander' again - it's one of my favorite words ever, truly.

Keep'm coming, Stipulagod

I'm not fond of winter, but this poem sure did give me a clear vision of the beauty of the season.

Very nice! I really like it. Thanks for sharing.

Thank you for your kind words

Writing a poem like this takes a very long time, actually years. I come back to it every so often, to see if I can make the imagery any better. This particular one was started on a winterday morning in 1979, and it is stable since 1994 or thereabouts.

When reading it, I see the images of that one winter morning again in all its finest detail. I think there are still a few words that could be changed for the better, but I am no longer the extreme perfectionist I used to be .

The landscape this describes, doesn't exist anymore, now. In 1984 I moved abroad, and only saw the exact place again in 2001 for the first time since. By the time I moved, they had already built a motorway on one side, the meadow with ponies (not there in mid winter) is gone, and at the end of the other meadow there is now a pig farm. The little brook is still there, but straightened and deepened.

But the magic of the place still remains, for me at least, in this poem, and in my head...

Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to share, and thank you for being so kind...

Warmest regards, Wim