January 31

Strips of trash, like lynching victims, dangle
In the leafless trees. They twitch with every
Puff of wind. The sky's an ashen curtain
Which won't open for a milquetoast sun.
Though winter's only halfway over, it's gone on
For far too long, and, as it has, my hopes
Have shredded, blown up to hang, swaying,
Here and there among the trees.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2018-01-31 at 22:06

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
I always thought February (almost there) was the worst month of winter. When I was in school, there would be no holidays until Easter and the excitement of winter is all used up, the snow is dirty, and on and on. Love the metaphor!

Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
You are such a good writer. Conveying the mood wonderfully.
I had heard the word milquetoast before but had to look it up. It fits well. I have shredded hopes for breakfast every morning :)

yes, kant can The PoetBay support member heart!
i like the analogy, it's harsh

Rob Graber
The macabre metaphor is quite effective. To which a Pollyanna asks, Byronically, "Yes, but if winter comes, can spring be far behind?"