Poetry December - 2024 - Laura Chouette

From my poetry book »Ethereal Solitude« - buy here.

Winter Forest

Deep words and lighter steps
Tear to white and fading green
Of lines and morning woods;

Each step of us grows lighter,
While chasing the true light
That is reborn over mountains.

The sun resets again
In the pale blue valley of us,
Haunting nothing but who we are –

And where we should be, tonight.

The Winter Miles

The roads of solitude grow whiter,
And stones beneath us paler,
While the green fades completely —
Ahead of us.

Grey is the sombre tone we keep,
While wandering along the street
That becomes our destiny —
With each step.

Our knees fall into the snow;

The trembling stops at last,

Here our souls will find eternal rest —

In silent grace.

Christmas Hyacinths

The air grows cleaner with each sight
Of words - silver and clear -
Without heaviness and sighs.

Winter closes in on each street,
That familiar place we haunted to keep,
While we hope to seek the dearest near.

Frozen blossoms in trembling hands,
With shadows of blue and grey,
Counting footsteps back into the heat.

The emptiness of many
Is returned in ink and choirs,
With doubt and cherish,
Crowned with blessings all around.

Gardens

Souls digging and grieving
Under spades so silver
That outcast dawn.

The earth becomes lighter
Yet grows darker with each inch
The shovel takes into the dirt.

The white of the texture
That once before touched our hands
In innocence leaps into forgiveness.

The grave is deep and uneven,
Its lines are simply met with even words
That haunt the living and haunt our worst.

Purple shadows reckoning our streets,
Leaving the darkness to sleep
With a mantle of marble at least.

The moon's line shows sorrow
On hands that dig down far
And reveal the things

— that dawned on us before.

The Wanderer

I wandered many miles
From shore to shore,
While keeping my word;

Some waves grew uneven,
And the sand in bays silvered
With each hour of hurt.

Emerald, Blue and Gold

The snow that bled emptiness,
While singing mercy on each star
That covered the path set high.

Freedom crosses horizons,
Freeing the northern lights
From compasses around the world.

Campus

Shirt sleeves half out of the jeans,
Eyes grounding the green while looking
All around for Christmas nights.

Blue sounds of church bells ringing
On morning streets and alleys
Are rewritten in archways beneath.

The campus is clear of recitation,
And the steps lead to none other than doors
That keep opening to New Year’s hope.

New Year

Grey softens our paths
While holding the stones
Beneath our feet near;

So the streets we wander
Become ours and become lost
While seeking new roads.

Horizons bloom over lines,
Held dear and near, yet not far
Enough from how we want to live.

— Outgrow, New Year’s Eves.

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