Pablo Cruise


First Frost - Poem by Pablo Cruise

Down the Northwest Angle cross the brow of the Boundary’s claim
The northern wanders with no less purpose, than what it brings
Toward the River Valley from off The Mighty Range
In days gone short of purpose, it’s time for premonitions and lore
Billows breathe against The River will spill like sugar onto these braided plains
Temperance fetched by that ol man to feed my fears, touch me thin
Invade my crooked fingers, down my listing spine, linger at my splintered toes
I know your name
I feel you steal inside my bed
It’s time to hang the plow, barn the roan while this land lodges under shrouds of crystalline
Reticent soil falling sound reduced to mere footing and passage
Rest yourself, my friend, while we all voice our disapproval
And remember your loam stocked green and yielding
Time to bar the door, seal the pane and pray we see no fever
Stoke the fire to dissuade that shutter and sing something soft
For the ink of night will bring First Frost, my dear
First Frost with morning light


Comments about First Frost by Pablo Cruise

  • (4/9/2009 8:01:00 AM)

    I am always nostalgic when I think of frost. Your last lines are superb.
    Beautiful work. I like this one very much.

    Warmest regards,

    Sandra
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  • (3/25/2009 11:04:00 AM)

    Loved this one. Really entertaining.. (Report)Reply

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  • (3/22/2009 8:33:00 PM)

    Pablo, A poem with some very fresh stuff in it. In particular I like these lines:
    'the ink of night'
    'barn the roan while this land lodges under shrouds of crystalline'
    A very lovely piece of work that takes us to a distant place. It is very hard to do more. Blessings, Bill Grace
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  • (3/17/2009 8:21:00 AM)

    Very nicly written about the comming of another season, I enjoyed the constuction of your words, and the imagery was so vivid.... (Report)Reply

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  • (3/17/2009 12:04:00 AM)

    very nice and clean write...thanks for sharing (Report)Reply

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  • (3/16/2009 3:39:00 PM)

    Warming and sensual great write 10+ (Report)Reply

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  • (3/16/2009 2:01:00 PM)

    I enjoyed reading this poem, good imagery. Jim (Report)Reply

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  • (3/16/2009 11:25:00 AM)

    Other than feeling that this poem is about the coming of winter, I am left standing outside once again, Pablo. Though your words are expressive, and generally related to the cold and pains winter brings, there seemed to be resignation rather than emotion in this poem. It just didn't communicate that to me. Carl. (Report)Reply

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  • (3/16/2009 8:33:00 AM)

    Our imagination takes us places we could never know in real life & this poem was the medium. Another remarkable piece of art. Thanks again (Report)Reply

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  • Sadiqullah Khan (3/13/2009 5:41:00 AM)

    Keeps the interest alive in a heavy composition. Very nice, Pablo.10 (Report)Reply

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  • (3/13/2009 4:48:00 AM)

    Very beautiful - really enjoyed reading this. HG: -) xx (Report)Reply

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  • Trade Martin (3/13/2009 1:22:00 AM)

    Consistently enjoyable work Pablo.....! ! ! (Report)Reply

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  • (3/13/2009 1:17:00 AM)

    I think of the aging done by one still bristling within
    with fire and embers burning. And a repeated frost to
    bare it's head on one who recognizes the signs of aging.
    That's only one of several images I get from this wonderfully
    written poem. Congratulations!
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  • Barry A. Lanier (3/12/2009 3:24:00 PM)

    This poem really has a gentle flowing pace filled with the personification and metaphors that you employed to give this reader almost a melancholy and serene vision like sitting by the fire inder a blanket waiting on the cold forst to come yet enjoying every minute in anticipation (Report)Reply

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  • (3/12/2009 11:49:00 AM)

    You have a nice word flow along with ideas. Coiling up in our cocoon at times gives us sanity from the worlds chaos. (Report)Reply

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  • (3/11/2009 11:24:00 AM)

    First front in the morning light great! great! poem.........Full of hope, well written heartwarming piece woven with words of wisdom.........10+++ (Report)Reply

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  • (3/11/2009 10:41:00 AM)

    brilliant piece sir...I loved it..10 (Report)Reply

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  • (3/11/2009 10:30:00 AM)

    great and bringer of hope piece. (Report)Reply

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  • (3/11/2009 9:34:00 AM)

    lovely the first frost
    is a clear ending of sorts,
    but its also a beginning. More than
    any other natural event, its an
    edge or dividing time that we can record
    each year as a point of reference. In New England
    the killing frost ---is the one that turns
    the last vulnerable plants to seaweed.
    nice write dear Pablo. Thanks for sharing
    +++++10 anjali
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  • (3/8/2009 4:45:00 PM)

    I love the imagery and the soft travel of the words. (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 2, 2009



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