Snowed in a Warm Fire: A Collection of New England Poems by Joe Wocoski

ISBN: 9781463780036

Published: August 1st 2011

Paperback

62 pages


Description

Snowed in  by  a Warm Fire: A Collection of New England Poems by Joe Wocoski

Snowed in by a Warm Fire: A Collection of New England Poems by Joe Wocoski
August 1st 2011 | Paperback | PDF, EPUB, FB2, DjVu, talking book, mp3, ZIP | 62 pages | ISBN: 9781463780036 | 3.79 Mb

This is a collection of the Authors New England poetry rediscovered on an old book shelf, where they rested undetected. There are not that many that they cannot be counted- however inside every one of them is a hidden pleasure. Most were stored in aMoreThis is a collection of the Authors New England poetry rediscovered on an old book shelf, where they rested undetected. There are not that many that they cannot be counted- however inside every one of them is a hidden pleasure. Most were stored in a magazine box found in an old yellow folder, or perhaps within an envelope.

This Poetry was written of heartfelt, New England places, people and feelings. Private thoughts first written in long hand, personal feelings from long ago meant to one day be read aloud. Some poems might actually rhyme, and some are light hearted, while others are of a different time, a different New England than now. You cannot remake what is gone, just read about the way it was, to enjoy and live on. Here are a few poems from this collection: SNOWED IN BY A WARM FIRE A visit to an Inn on top of a hill.

A view, a valley, a village, a pond. Snow already covering the ground. Snow falling steadily all around. The hills, the trees, the branches, The drives, the roads, the highways. All are covered in new fallen snow. All are silent as the snow falls. Snowflakes large, silent, slowly falling. Snowflakes drifting, covering the ground. Snow falling steadily through the day- Snow falling steadily through the night. Soon ankle deep, then up to your knees- Soon three feet covers all there is. Snowed in. The highways are closed.

Snowed in, as I wait by the warm fire. ON A WINTER AFTERNOON A gray mare standing beside The snow covered wooden fence. The fence along a country road Icy and well traveled. Cars and trucks passing by- Few noticing the gray mare Breathing hot fog From her nostrils. The gray mare noticing all Passing by, the wind in her hair, Ruffling her mane. Patiently, Standing by the snow covered Wooden gate.

Awaiting her masters return From work to bring her safely Across the country road To her home, the red barn, And a meal of winter hay. TWO ANGLES SLEEPING SOUNDLY Two angles sleeping soundly, While work I must do, Upon this Sunday afternoon. One curled upon our living room couch, While the other sleeps deeply Beneath the covers and sheets in our bedroom.

A book falls to the carpet from a sleeping hand. The hand soon pulled beneath the throw Cuddling the blankets warmth within. Two angles sleeping soundly, While work I must do Upon this Sunday afternoon. Both dressed from head to toe, In lazy morning, loosely fitting, weekend clothes- All the while swaddled in blankets and throws. Blankets pulled up tight to chins, Rosy cheeks and their eyelids closed While just a little bit of red hair shows. Two angles sleeping soundly, While work I must do Upon this Sunday afternoon.

THE ROADS WE REMEMBER New roads are modern super highways. Fast, easy access, easy off, straight as a line, rest stops, and large green exit signs. Country roads are rarely ever straight- bending, twisting, turning, snaking around sharp curves- far to sharp to see around the next bend.

Dirt roads are the only roads leading back across the hills and streams through memories- the forests of childhood times long forgotten. Old roads long and narrow, bending every way through the line of hills- twisting and turning through the fields and meadows of our dreams. City streets return us to the real world of hidden driveways, pot holes, curbs and gutters, stop lights, jaywalkers, and double parked cars. Only country roads can take us back to memories- twisting, turning through times long forgotten, to the moments lost on our highway of time.



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