On Winter’s Nights (poetry challenge)

Per savvi’s topic: Winter


crumpets

On winter nights we sit by a roaring log fire

toasting crumpets with a long-handled fork;

   (it is a skill that’s not easy to acquire)

while we relax after a week of hard work.

 

We feel bright and cosy in our warm room

and although the weather is said to be dire

we abandon thoughts of gloom and doom.

It is peace and tranquillity that we require.

 

There’ll be games later, like blind man’s bluff

or consequences; Monopoly; or Cluedo;

but we won’t allow players to become rough:

we know that some are black-belts in judo.

 

Grandpa, on the sofa, is drinking dry sherry;

he is feeling sleepy and perhaps he’ll retire.

The kids are thrilled, frolicsome and merry

but it is snow and snow fights they desire.

 

They look at the sky to see if the weather

 is going to be kind and will change its mind.

Lo and behold: a snowflake, light as a feather,

is followed by another of a similar kind.

 

They are mightily relieved and full of elation

 and will not consider that they’re unkind

being able to play, as they’re on vacation,

 while the grownups go back to the grind.

 

© Luigi Pagano  2016

 

© ionicus 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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Savvi

Ah snowy days away from school, I remember those and toasted crumpets ( lol I always burnt mine) Cluedo and judo I love it. Warm family occasions and open fires with a flurry of snow in the finally, what more can we ask for in a winter poem. Best Keith

Franciman

A simple scene beautifully captured. You bring that childlike excitement to life, too. I was reaching for my wellies, Luigi.
Cheers,
Jim

TheRecluse

A lovely, well-remembered and cherished scene you’ve revived here Luigi; and a good excuse for a moment’s relaxation and often regretful over-indulgence! A needed and well-written positive balance to all that is Winter. Mind you, I love the bleak, desolate, silent and lifeless landscape out in the wilds on my long walks giving distinctive quality to this season where wild life is in limbo. But, indoors, very lucky if so lively like your fine descriptions here. A pleasant read.
Trevor

TheRecluse

Ah, Luigi, but have you ever returned home, frozen to the bone, and immersed your exhausted body in an old upright Victorian bath filled with piping hot water, ambient music playing, a glass of single malt in one hand, and the rest of the bottle in the other, and two enormous boobs bobbing in front of you, even if they are your own…? Experiencing contrasts is the secret of quality living…. then again the same situation in Umbria, Tuscany or Lombardy without the walk, bath, or obeisity, just the whiskey, sounds appealing too!

Sweetwater

Just reading this makes me feel as happy and warm as I did in childhood, at home with mum and dad, sitting crossed legged on the rug hot buttered toast a fire red with heat, and my dog sleeping beneath my hand. Bliss. Thank you for bringing it all back with this gorgeous winter poem Luigi, Sue.

Belcanto

Must admit I didn’t even know what a crumpet is, let alone recall ever toasting one over an open fire! Though I’d heard of them growing up, thought only the gentry ate such-whatevers, while our family sometimes had nothing but a baked potato for tea! Or hot milk over a slice of bread and sugar. So looked it up and found that it’s most like the equivalent of an English muffin over here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crumpet. Which I have eaten, toasted, on many a winter’s night in the US. 🙂 A delightful, accomplished telling Luigi. Brings to mind Currier & Ives Christmas… Read more »

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