Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Hibernating


It is a quiet,
sullen
sour grape of a month.

Jealous that it’s sandwiched
between the showbiz spectacle
of Christmastime
and the sexy pink orgy
of Valentine’s Day,
January is the
“get your tax forms ready” month,
the “sober up from your holiday bacchanal
and pay those
‘I don’t care,
Christmas comes
but once a year’” bills.

And this January
was the 12th time
my father’s birthday
passed without his embrace.

January
finds me hibernating,
in my bed,
at my desk,
in my heart,

storing up my energy
for brighter,
more verdant days

that I am almost certain
are on the way.

(Posted as part of Open Link Night http://dversepoets.com/2012/01/24/open-link-night-week-28/ )

24 comments:

  1. Yes! You nailed this sour grape month for sure. Joining you in hoping for better days to come. Great write, as always, my friend...

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  2. Just joined your site! Good words today! ~Smiles

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  3. I am sorry you have to spend January without your father's embrace. But that absence has fueled your pen to present us with this wonderful write. And we are approaching the end of the month...soon

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  4. The "almost" , being the little crack in the optimism when we are trying to haul ourselves back to the surface... May most of your year be pink.

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  5. sorry about your dad passing...always hard those times of year...its october in our hours...halloween and all the ghosts...nice write..

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  6. a strong, emotional write... sorry about your father.. not much of January left...

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  7. Oh come on. January has plenty of things to recommend it! Like... um...

    For example...

    give me a minute....

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  8. Love the line "sour grape of a month". January is a kind of a blah month, but like that you ended it with optimism for the future.

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  9. January leaves us all feeling empty, melancholy.
    you captured it well.

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  10. Sorry about your dad...sad...I miss mine too.

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  11. Wow, I was laughing all the way through those first 2 stanzas - then that third one hit hard. January is depressing enough as it is...without that added loss. Love the hopefulness at the end tho. Great poem all the way through.

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  12. I love this... but in my neck of the woods Mardi Gras begins in January.

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  13. oh, yes, a perfect description of january... i hadn't really minded it until just these past few days.

    the fact that it marks such a loss for you must make it all the harder.

    soon, we will be moving forward into a new month, may yours be filled with brighter days.

    lovely poetry.

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  14. I love the title of your blog. It really gets my attention. It's been 7 January's since I felt my dad's embrace.

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  15. sorry to hear about your dad.. in many ways january is the month "in between" somehow.. but hey..your pink valentine sounds much more fun than we have on valentines day usually..smiles

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  16. jackiedick10:17 PM

    Don't like January myself. Sorry about your Dad, but the rest of the year looks hopeful, and that's good. Nice write!

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  17. I don't enjoy all the hype of Christmas anymore, all it's bred for years is greed and the true meaning of it has fallen by the wayside of more, more, more. As soon as Boxing Day arrives they're putting up Valentine cards and Easter eggs. Pure greed.
    Lovely piece, and thanks for the comment on mine. :)

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  18. This is an awesome piece full of angst....

    The first lines draw me in:

    "It is a quiet,
    sullen
    sour grape of a month.

    Jealous that it’s sandwiched
    between the showbiz spectacle
    of Christmastime
    and the sexy pink orgy
    of Valentine’s Day"

    So awesome...

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  19. I agree with your thoughts about January, but I hadn't really thought about it until I read your poem. Not much to like about January. Cold, dark, taxes loom. I join you in awaiting more verdant days.

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  20. I really got swept away in the melancholy of this poem...very powerful stuff! Nice :)

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  21. Missed this one somehow. Love it.

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  22. I like the cycle of colours you've snuck in here -- I think of sour grapes as green (perhaps wrongly), and then there's the lush pink of Valentine's, and then the possibility of a verdant future, suggesting another green, perhaps even the same green of those grapes, but looking better.

    And it sucks about your father. I'm on year 8 of same. Incredible how the awfulness of it keeps on ticking, like a Rolodex from hell, or the persistent voice of a GPS when one is purely lost.

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  23. love the word play you carry here a great characterization of the time. ~ Rose

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