Gone.
It’s gone.
Lost in this Wonderland.
He tramples in a sheet of soft hail.
Chills crawl up his body like a spider up its web.
His lips form blisters and cracks.
His ears begin to burn at the touch.
His body turns bluer than an untainted ocean.

He longs to find what he lost.
The breeze hits him when he least expects it,
bitter cold punches in all directions.
The screeches of the wind grow louder.
The mist of his breath in the air fades.
All hopes of finding it are gone.

A shimmer of light grows in the distance.
His frostbitten fingers reach towards it.
The spirit of Jack Frost moons over him saying,
“My son, I have what you are looking for.”
His previously sullen face turns into a smirk.
Mr. Frost embraces him and gives him all he was searching for.
“Finally…” he says.
Warmth.

-The reign of winter

Hot summer is all but gone and decemember draws near,

May my soul endure the coming chills of winter this year.

I sit at Robert Frost Farm
On a bench so tall my feet can’t touch ground
I move them around and pretend I’m sitting on a cliff
But I’m surrounded by twigs
And dead yellow grass

It feels like spring but it looks like autumn
The trees are still bare and the landscape barren
Stripped down and beaten
Like a hollow survivor
Waiting for sunlight and just a little water

I sit here blindly like a silent on looker
I stare right through the tattered survivors
An old lady in the distance yells something friendly
But I can’t hear her so I stare and smile

it's cold in here
red frost, cowboys are shivering
worn-out guys

smoky faces
loners
dancing on puddles

slippery floor of memories
posters of dead ghosts on the walls
mirrors don't reflect the cowboys

their shadows are transparent
the piano man takes them on a journey
24/7

A river of lies
Cast aside my past
Cast aside my fears
Roll the dice

Hide my own self
Drown all her dreams
Drown all her hopes
Shatter the ice

Become her again
When fires dance lively
When frost walks free
Remember their price

Not Elves, Exactly
by Michael R. Burch

(after Robert Frost's "Mending Wall")

Something there is that likes a wall,
that likes it spiked and likes it tall,

that likes its pikes’ sharp rows of teeth
and doesn’t mind its victims’ grief

(wherever they come from, far or wide)
as long as they fall on the other side.

Keywords/Tags: Robert Frost, mending, wall, fences, good, neighbors, southern, border, spikes, pikes, barbed, wire, electrical

Fahr an’ Ice
by Michael R. Burch

(apologies to Robert Frost and Ogden Nash)

From what I know of death, I’ll side with those
who’d like to have a say in how it goes:
just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker),
and real fahr off, instead of quicker.

Originally published by Light Quarterly

Keywords/Tags: Robert Frost, Ogden Nash, death, fire, ice, liquor, quicker, humor, nonsense, light verse, parody, satire