The Zero …

cold day

Road is a bitter

Freeze grey bayonet blade;

Crushed cold shale and flint link

Between the zero mercury and

The never-closer tomorrow-season.

Wind is a silent, ceaseless chainsaw, a

Horizontal cat o’ nine tails

Flailing straight through warm tissue

Into bone and blood,

Slowing life’s reactions, pleasures.

Sunrise is the thin, unfriendly

Diamond sharp, heavy-duty edge

Of a cold sett chisel,

Battering through fragile,

Pale blue sky-skin:

Spring’s feeble eggshell armour.

Today feels harsh,

The beginnings of extinction,

Or tedious, bleak totalitarian industry;

Like the worst of sad war’s

Shelterless landscapes

When the last of the living

Have limped away.

But then the songthrush sings …


photo source:


11 thoughts on “The Zero …

  1. gorgeous…the last line is heaven.

  2. PÖ3TIC says:

    Such an accurate and vivid description of winter, especially the WIND! I think the last line works great, its that tiny nugget of hope that the bleak, harshness of winter has an end.

  3. lgyslaine says:

    Beautiful description of the cold of winter 🙂

  4. Glad my painting moved you to write so well. It WAS a cold day!

  5. mybhumi says:

    this captured me. Wasn’t so sure about the ending, but grew to like it as well

  6. wisejourney says:

    Blimey…wasn’t I blessed to have left the last sting in the tail of winter on Sunday!
    Love the strong descriptive style..harsh images express it so well.

    Just done 7 feedbacks for an online poetry course I am on and I being on a roll ( as it were) i would say leave the last line out. Stronger without it. It sentimentalises an otherwise powerful piece of poetry.

  7. Wow. I am astonished and frankly without words to describe how talented you are! I am so glad that you stopped by my little, ol’ blog as I am now enticed by yours. 🙂 Greetings to you from a blustery Berlin.

  8. fournier0917 says:

    Beautiful… emotionally piercing. Great work… Chapeau! JJ

  9. birchpoet says:

    I really enjoyed the last line-the cherry on top of a beautiful sundae. I am a hopeless romantic at heart and very tired of this endless winter… awaiting the thrushes song still in April.

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