“White Frost” is a poem from a writing workshop I led in November in which I had to use “winter, darkness, divorce, ripe, islands, rocks, and human.” On the one hand, white frost is the phenomenon that results in the freezing to death of entire planets. On the other hand, the closest meter of the poem is the trochaic tetrameter, and the word Trochaic comes from the Greek “to run.” The poem speaks about the encounter of two people who do not love each other anymore as love has been blown away by whatever-the-reasons, but they kept climbing those White Sheet mountains looking for love… Well, read it to see what happens next in such a way that there is no need for a +18 sign. Use your imagination spiced with some humor. ❄️❄️❄️

White Frost

On this winter day, I wander through frost,
disappointed the hoarfrost isn’t more ripe:
its raw colores make me want to forget
something warm on the islands I scribed.

Ice crystals quantize as I prepare my sleight,
grey branches shiver as skies open above:
blades of grass serve me like a subzero-bed,
condensed waters keep me intolerant of…

Just like a margined flower in sulfurs,
down, down, down into the darkness I went;
bent over rocks in the open air, unfocused,
my droplets supercooled as I also descend…

In a solid effort to protect rock from damage,
my breath heated a long-winded caress,
spreading my hands as stone came to vanish,
I bid my goodbye to the high-cold crest.

Orphaned from feelings, I felt that I freeze
as winter raged on top of the mountains,
when all of a sudden I heard a man sneeze:
close to the waters was somebody shouting…

He was there, hidden in the middle of nowhere,
and he preferred to pass as a cool stone, indeed.
I found his behavior so much hostile, unfair,
that I augmented the winter’s devastation speed.

***

Conclusion: be sure that you’ll get divorced,
if you go to common places only when forced.