Frosted Glass

20170730_111623

 

Looking through my frosted glazing.

A winters Sunday morn.

The piercing coldness, so bitter.

A wind like razor blades.

And my somber music plays.

The slivering venetian blinds, so bland.

Hiding little of the external Arctic chill.

A frozen sparrow lays on the sill,

Ready to fall, on dirt, so icy.

A meagre frigid offering,

To the polar Snowlord.

And I’m like a blizzard’s statue,

Shivering to the core.

Riveted by my eternal score,

Leonard’s, Avalanche and more.

 

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About Dead Donovan (178 Articles)
You look a little pale....oh!...forgive me! My name is Dead Donovan. SlasherMonster is devoted to the dissection of horrific material: articles, short-stories, poems, photography, graphic art -- the stuff that makes your heart shrivel.

14 Comments on Frosted Glass

  1. Well done, Ivor. Chilled me to the bone.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Frosty and brrrrilliant. Brrrr!! I need a blanket… me bone is frigid and stiff. (PR)

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Thanks for sharing your poem, Ivor! We need to start a fire…someone may get frostbite.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Too late, my frostbite’s already started !!

    Liked by 3 people

  5. At first i thought twas DD’s work and was bout to say..”WOW….i didnt you can be so gentle and in your words; as obvious as it seemed i am used to your monster side lol”….but well..well….its Ivor…well done guys..🤔🤔🤔

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Oh, no, the White Walkers are coming. Where’s Jon Snow?

    Like

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