Start wooing with all the clocks chiming,
Slip the slippery seconds around earth,
And dance with the skies in celebration,
All from pulse to breathe, and to new birth.
January, the first light of another year,
And the glory of that maiden orbit,
Wake silently from golden dust to appear,
A long time coming; we had known it.
After taking down the decorations,
Give chances for the changing course,
To breathe New Year’s resolutions,
And as it grows, given hope a chance.
A brimful of dreams watches all doors opens,
Letting hope in and visions lets out more,
But so long as January defines what begins,
It has the key to mingle with pleasure.
January stands steep in splendor passing by,
Spectra of the seasons towering head,
And hung the gem of lights to guide the sky,
With stars bright and glittering away they fled.
And float midway in opportunity abound,
To such deep measure on thrushes of rapture,
Upon fair winds January is known in all the land,
From drifts to snowy clefts and sunny sphere.
The wakening realm will come back again,
And life begins new through cold and death,
January is the beginning of the end,
Round the islands it goes in triumphant rebirth.
- Author: Gerry Legister (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: January 7th, 2011 12:52
- Comment from author about the poem: January comes again after a long time in waiting
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Comments1
This is very cool. I look forward to reading your assessment of every month, if you decide to do something like that. I appreciate this fresh perspective on January, which I've been accustomed to being known as the month folk are so blue, since they've just come off the holiday season or somesuch.....maybe because they have the winter doldrums....I dunno, but this is a fascinating different, hopeful look at the first month of our year. I quite enjoyed it!
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