Wednesday, 15 June 2016


“People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy.” - Anton Chekhov

And what Mr Chekhov implies is that the seasons are much more acutely felt and more likely to affect our mood when we are unhappy… Even in the midst of Spring’s delights a melancholy soul will make of the joyous season a funereal feast, the flowers merely a doleful accoutrement to the hearse. What if Summer’s glorious sun shines bright and hot? If one is sad, the heat’s enough to fever one’s brow and cause one’s brain to run into nightmarish places hotter than hellfire. And Autumn’s bounty and mellow delights will be overtaken by the dejection of the falling leaves, the rampant decay and falling rain. As far as Winter goes, a sorrowful heart may simply be itself and attune perfectly to the season’s frozen emptiness and endless despair.

Winter is Coming

The sun’s trajectory has shortened,
Now that his chariot runs a course
Much closer to the horizon.
The night is quicker to claim
The earth as her realm
And the moon barks orders
At the brilliant (but oh, so cold) stars.

The wind howls at night
And even the wild dogs are tamed
Becoming silent in obeisance.
Rain comes and falls, and fails
To tether the wind who takes each drop
And spins it into long, liquid streams
Until they fall like waving sheets.

The cold freezes puddles solid
And no leaves, no fruits no flowers
Survive the blizzard cruel.
And even colder still, inside,
My heart keeps on beating,
Gelid though it may be
To keep me alive, me who has died.

Like Summer, you have left me
And unlike Autumn you’ve given me
No ripe fruits, no grain, no berries.
My crop was poisoned by bitter tears,
Endless regrets, false promises, nightmares;
My Winter’s deep, bleak and long-lasting
Expecting no Spring’s arrival.


  1. This poem has powerful images and captures the bleakness of winter.
    Misery blooms in winter. One would have to be in love continuously according to your theory, to survive a cold climate ( me at least anyway:) I am going to put this poem on my blog in the Poetic Gem series.
    Ten weeks until Spring (four) if you are lucky enough to escape to the tropics for six. Keep warm Nicholas and if you object to my using your poem please leave a message in my comment box and I will remove it.

  2. Such a sad and poignant poem... You sing of lost love and loss of youth, a winter of your life and winter of your emotions - such sweet despair!

  3. This is wonderful... I like the thought how you started with the Chekhov quote. and yes I feel the season much more with age and depression than I used to do... (especially darkness).. The way you use the stars is magnificent.