Saturday Morning In Winter Poem by Jette Blackstone
Saturday Morning In Winter
Morning scratches at the glass.
and the screen glares back white.
Boiling water recalls the heat of thoughts,
a small bird lands on a branch of sunrise.
And whipping the cream to clot,
as if the cream will stop tomorrow,
I look out the window, hopeful
at the snow, the icy dunes.
What strength a lover has
who pretends nonchalance!
My fingers freeze at the keyboard
When he calls me back to bed.
Lovely poetry. Great original imagery. Reminds me of Great Poet Lorca's magnificent poems.
A Very Deep And Moving Poem! ! ! ! ! Excellently Done! ! ! ! ! Thank You Ever So Much For Sharing This! ! ! ! ! Ever So Many 10S! ! ! ! !
Thank you so much for your beautiful comments Rebecca! They are much appreciated.
There are some poems, not many, mind you, that open the path to immortality. 'Saturday Morning In Winter' is one of them.
Thanks Sandra...that's quite a comment I will be striving for the rest of my life to live up to. :) I am humbled. Thank you.
After all this well-deserved praise, Not much left to say, Don't want to be repetitive So, I'll tell you in my way, 'An immortal and great poem You have written on this day! ' It's just one of those forever poems, That will never go away, A touch of spirituality More than words can evev say.
You have not only changed your name but your style of writing too! Amazing write!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/5/2025 12:15:28 AM # 1.0.0
Oh. My. Gosh! WoW! ! I think somebody just sneaked up behind me and hit me over the head with a hammer because I am sitting here entirely stunned! ! ! ! What totally original imagery- - ] Morning scratches at the glass.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - You had me until your poetic thumb on the second word. For pity sake, how did you come up with that PERFECT allusion. From now on I will greet the new day thinking of it scratching at my door like a family pet wanting back in! ! ! ! I so love this line! ! ! and the screen glares back white- - - - - ] why of course a talented poet isn't just going to say something mundane and dead like it was sure bright outside! ! ! dang, you can't help yourself- you just think in a language only known by the artists and the best of writers Boiling water recalls the heat of thoughts, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - okay, okay, I surrender already, I'm so jealous my eyes are turning green a small bird lands on a branch of sunrise.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - ] Oh dear heaven, could I please have a cup of your talent and originality? ? ? ? a branch of sunrise...... my dear, those 4 words alone brand you as a top-notch writer... and now I think I will go bang my head against the wall in total frustration and jealousy. Showers of 10's and of course it goes onto my list of favs! ! ! !
Susan, I would never hit you on the head with a hammer (LOL! ;) ) Thanks so much for your enthusiastic and utterly supportive commentary. I am grateful for you! As always, I enjoy reading your poetry.