Blue Winter Poem by Robert Francis

Mr Francis This is a good poem, keep it up

All the blues! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

Reminds me of the song I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT popularized by ROD STEWART.... Thanks for sharing...

Written with a bit of a painter's eye, I'd say. Personally, I'm always noting the various colors of the landscape when I'm out walking. How colors lay one over another in space, defining shapes and playing with depth and perspective. This poem evinces that kind of attention, but simplifies it to a monotonous monochrome. No blue gets a more specific name, a distinct shade or tone. The repetition of the word blue emphasizes the monochromatic nature of the scene without an enlivening nuance or acknowledgement of the very vital play in the differences. It flattens the landscape onto the 2-dimensional plane of the painter's canvas. But in a deadening, amateurish way. Only in the final two lines is another color word introduced: green. In the penultimate line the word green appears only to note that the color, in the form of the life giving force of trees, does not appear. In the final line green is mixed with winterblue to describe a star which is not exactly a part of this world and so also somehow removed from the landscape. For me the repetitive device of this poem leaves the work flat, and that may be the intent, but ultimately I want art to breathe life into my perceptions, not empty it out. So although I find the poem technically sound, that the author has replicated a certain process of analysis of the objective world, it does not finally come full circle to elicit the magic and joy of artistic creation in an aesthetic sense.

a nice poetic write of the winter blues?

T-pose to acertain dominance.

Nice poem it goes with winter

Winter blues manifested marvelously by the nature beautifully portrayed.

The poems misses both rhyme and rhythm... but even in open verses the meter is somewhat edgy. And the emphasis one just a single colour seems to take away some charm from the verses. Reading Robert Francis for the first time... and poems or poets ought not be judged. But taking a leaf out of the poet's work, I have tried a little imitation... with some hints of colour: HERE COMES WINTER Is winter here with its touch of blue? Rough edges hued in ivory white, When autumn left I have not a clue But the days get shorter than the night; The skies are painted a pallid grey Distant horizons a purple tinge, Have wondering clouds all gone astray Anticipating a wintry binge? Avian twitter joyfully spells From atop browning skeletal trees, It commingles with the peal of bells Their holy echoes bear fervent pleas; A lilting mist upon meadows green Lo brusquely kissed by the north wind cold, Here comes winter with its gleaming sheen It’s time to rummage our woollies old. ********

Winter is icy blue, Fall a mute orange, Spring is a sprouting green, Summer a blazing red... O, through the seasons of life we tread repeating ad nauseam inside my head winter transmutes the living to the dead Spring: nature's regenerative flower bed...