Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit Ruth at There is no such thing as a godforsaken town for Roundup.
First a special announcement for my Alabama friends: Karim and I will be signing THE CAT MAN OF ALEPPO this Sunday at
Little Professor Books in Homewood, 2-4 pm. Socially distanced and masked, of course... I'll be the one in the cat mask. :)
Today's Poetry Friday offering has a few connections I'd like to share.
1. Unlike most of the world, I love February! I love it because it's short, and I love it because it's my birthday month. (Happy Birthday to my fellow February birthday Poetry Friday friends, of which I know there are quite a few: Ruth, Heidi, Laura, Kat, Tabatha!!!)
2. I wrote this one in a new-to-me form called a "viator." It has a refrain that appears in a particular spot in each stanza, and I kind of love it! You can learn more about the viator here.
3. This piece of art by Vincent van Gogh is his "cover" of another artist's painting. What a great reminder that ALL artists imitate as they are learning!
4. You may recognize the words "bleak midwinter." They appear "In the Bleak Midwinter" by Christina Rossetti. Also, Thomas Shelby and his compatriots repeat these words whenever they are facing death. (If you don't know who Thomas Shelby is, you should! Check out Peaky Blinders.)
5. One article I read said the colors of this painting have faded over time, so that now the ravens stand out more than they originally did... adding to the bleakness that I chose to write about. Perhaps my poem would have gone in a different direction were I writing it upon Vincent first completing it?
And now, the poem! Thanks so much for reading.
February
On bleak midwinter mornings
birds forage forgotten fields.
They dust and flutter,
dig and carry.
For birds, joy unfolds
on bleak midwinter mornings.
At this peaceful feast,
all are welcome.
Frost cannot keep
their chorus from rising
on bleak midwinter mornings.
Wings, too, symphony the sky.
Stop your stalling,the birds call.
Marry yourself to fortune
on bleak midwinter mornings.
- Irene Latham