Raymond Farrell

Gold Star - 25,010 Points (02/09/1954 / Perth, Ontario)

Winter - Poem by Raymond Farrell

You cannot be a Canadian
And not have an opinion about this season
On average, we're the coldest country in the world
And when you're standing out in February
Waiting for the bus
Shivering and shaking and wishing you were a brass monkey
You're going to say something
Even if no one else is around to hear it
But what I am tired of
Is those who feel compelled to extoll the virtues of this season
As though, snow-shoeing or tramping through snow up to your knees
Were comparable to a leisurely stroll around Bora Bora
Or a 'beaver tail' wolfed down with a mug of hot chocolate
You can scarcely maintain a grip of due to your frozen, numb fingers
Were a delicacy comparable to a fine seafood dinner
Served by a well-coiffed lass
On the island of Majorca
While basking in the Mediterranean sun.

Topic(s) of this poem: season, seasons


Comments about Winter by Raymond Farrell

  • Melvina Germain (11/3/2015 4:42:00 PM)


    Well I sure know the cold hurts and I found that out merely going from the East of Canada to the West and spent my first winter in tears. The cold was harsh and it took me awhile to learn how to dress properly and then the confusion of the dang Chinook. It was welcomed but tearing your clothes off in the morning, coming out in the afternoon to bitter cold again and some are surprised when we get sick. We're not all skiers and cross country walkers who say they enjoy the cold. We merely get use to it and learn how to handle it...Thank you for this poem..... (Report) Reply

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  • Kelly Kurt (4/3/2015 2:53:00 AM)


    It ticks me off too when people talk about the cold like it was something wonderful. Good write, Raymond! Thanks for sharing. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 3, 2015

Poem Edited: Friday, April 3, 2015


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