Mid-January

[Fox]

2nd January poem:

Mid-January

Feeling wabbit and a little lost
As day slips by day and night follows night
Waiting for winter’s first real frost
Waiting for Imbolc and Candlemas light

Waiting til waiting becomes a lost cause
And action becomes the only choice
And creation seems to breathe and pause
Before singing out with gathering voice

A song that breaks the binding spell
Chains fall away, dissolve in rust
Where we go next no one can tell
But we will go because we must

Living moves us through each ticking breath
And we move when falling into death

[Moonleaf]

Like this one too. Fwiw, unless you are Scottish, people would probably get stuck on the word "wabbit" and as poets we need to make sure there are no obstacles, nothing to deter the reader from going on. As nothing else in the poem is tied to Scottish wording could you use "exhausted" or something? Up to you of course. And finally, it is never a good thing to repeat a word in close lines - "waiting" is used four times - perhaps another word that means the same would make it less of a sticking point.

If I didn't like your poems and see some skill I wouldn't bother making these comments, so hope you don't mind Fox.

[Fox]

Like this one too. Fwiw, unless you are Scottish, people would probably get stuck on the word "wabbit" and as poets we need to make sure there are no obstacles, nothing to deter the reader from going on. As nothing else in the poem is tied to Scottish wording could you use "exhausted" or something? Up to you of course. And finally, it is never a good thing to repeat a word in close lines - "waiting" is used four times - perhaps another word that means the same would make it less of a sticking point.

If I didn't like your poems and see some skill I wouldn't bother making these comments, so hope you don't mind Fox.

Hi Heath,

Not all all, poets need to be able to discuss these things.

Again, I'll have to disagree here. I don't mind my readers having to do a little work and think about what I'm trying to say. Wabbit is the word that suits the way I feel in the poem. Not exactly exhausted, but that's certainly part of it. Exhausted, washed out, lethargic, a little depressed. Wabbit sums it up nicely. I don't mind my readers having to do a little work - particularly druidic ones. Anyway, every Scottish reader will know what I mean, and the others can look it up.

And I did purposely use "waiting" multiple times. It slows the rhythm and sense of the poem down and as such serves a kind of onomatopoeic purpose. I want it to be a sticking point, if you see what I mean. Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, until something had to give.

Thanks again for the comments, it's good for me to examine my motives