Page 1 of 1

The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Sat Mar 14, 2009 12:03 pm
by titian dj
The Frosty Hours

My little house is wrapped in snow;
the evergreens are frosted, so
I'll leave a tray of cake and bread
to complement the winter show.

A robin chatters overhead,
he sees me place this ample spread
then flutters down to take his share
and proudly flaunt his patch of red.

By nine a.m. the tray is bare,
I note an odour in the air
then catch the spattered gable end;
an urban fox has tarried there.

I worry for my tiny friend,
remove the tray and then suspend
a net of fruit and buttered neeps
to see if I can make amends.

The evening drifts are crisp and deep,
the bird returns and seems to keep
a vigil when I turn to sleep,
for we have promises to keep.

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Wed Mar 18, 2009 3:43 am
by BrokenLyre
This poem reminds me of Frost's poems - especially Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. If this in intentional - well done. I couldn't do it. :) Pleasure reading.

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Sun Mar 22, 2009 10:22 am
by titian dj
Thanks, Broken

Sorry about the tardy response. Yes, it was an intentional tribute to Frost, with his interlocking rhyme scheme and all.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Best,

Bri

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Tue Mar 24, 2009 5:09 am
by dks
Yes...nice nod to Frost...almost a bit more Romantic in imagery--the beautiful, ordinariness of the tarrying bird...and your innate connection with the natural elements...clever, alluding title...

...nice, indeed...

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Tue Mar 24, 2009 8:56 pm
by titian dj
Thanks, dk, for your encouraging words. very pleased you enjoyed this wee nod to Frost; he's one of my favourites.
It's quite a tricky form to work with but more than rewarding.

All the best,

Bri

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Sat Feb 13, 2010 11:31 pm
by steffen
How much I enjoyed this deeply felt poem of yours. It creates a place, time and atmosphere with such grace and subtlety, with such an admirable contruction of rhyme and rythm that the reader never gets lost. He feels secure as he reads on, knowing that he's in the hands of an artist and craftsman. The three of you, yourself, the robin and the fox create a gripping drama of promises kept, sustenance and survival, and suddenly all hinges on the appearance of the fox, the predator, instinctively marking his territory to claim everything it holds, including the robin. But faithful to the promise you made, he can roost out of danger's way, high up on that branch, dreaming of tomorrow's net of fruit and buttered neebs, knowing in his little robin brain that he has found safe-haven.

There's no soft, fluffy romanticism here which many of us hopelessly inept versifiers get caught up in. As a teacher, I "confess" that I required my students to memorize certain poems of Frost. Many told me later that it left an indelible imprint on their minds. One fellow told me in so many words that it made him a more insightful person. He also said, jokingly, that if he were ever kidnapped -this part of Spain is ETA territory- he would have something beautiful and useful to fill his mind with during his time in captivity. If I had read this poem then I would have put it on the list.

Thank you for this exceptional piece of writing. I'll be reading it over and over again and, I admit, humbly envious of your skill and artistry.

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Wed Jun 09, 2010 9:07 pm
by titian dj
Hello Steffen,

I really hope you get to read this reply because I thought this one had slipped off the first page AND I've had all sorts of trouble with my internet connection.

Frost is one of my favourite poets and I've always admired his interlocking rhyme scheme.
Your review is very much appreciated. I love the way you've read this piece because you've absolutely nailed the central premise, and I have to admit that I'm touched by your comments.

It's good to know that you're inspiring your students. My hat's off to you.

Thank you for a wonderfull visit.

Kindest regards,

Bri


steffen wrote:How much I enjoyed this deeply felt poem of yours. It creates a place, time and atmosphere with such grace and subtlety, with such an admirable contruction of rhyme and rythm that the reader never gets lost. He feels secure as he reads on, knowing that he's in the hands of an artist and craftsman. The three of you, yourself, the robin and the fox create a gripping drama of promises kept, sustenance and survival , but all suddenly hinging on the appearance of a fox, the predator, instinctively marking his territory to claim everything it holds, including the robin. And faithful to the promise you made, he can roost out of danger's way, high up on that branch, dreaming of tomorrow's buttered neebs, knowing in his little robin brain that he has found safe-haven.

There's no soft, fluffy romanticism here which so many of us hopelessly inept romantics get caught up in. As a teacher, I "confess" that I required my students to memorize certain poems of Frost. Many told me later that it left an indelible imprint on their minds. One fellow told me in so many words that it made him a more insightful person. He also said, jokingly, that if he were ever kidnapped -this part of Spain is ETA territory- he would have something beautiful and useful to fill his mind with during his time in captivity. If I had read this poem then I would have put it on the list.

Thank you for this exceptional piece of writing. I'll be reading it over and over again and, I admit, envious of your skill and artistry.

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 2:10 pm
by steffen
Hello Titian,
Thank you for your kind reply. The truth is that when I first read The Frosty Hours I felt a certain kinship with that adopted robin friend of yours "flashing his patch of red", savouring in his dreams that "net of fruit and buttered neebs" he knew would be waiting for him the next morning

To those casual readers browsing these pages, I would advise them to read The Frosty Hours with the attention that it truly merits because, to paraphrase a famous definition of poetry, it is breath itself. Its speech is breath. This poem relates to our thoughts and emotions to such an extent that, like breath, it actually fills our bodies, creating an emotional-physical impact which could be said to represent the very centering of poetry.

Best wishes,
Jim

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Mon Jun 21, 2010 7:01 pm
by titian dj
Thank you, Jim, thank you very much indeed. I feel quite humbled by your reply and feel an urge to respond quickly, before my internet connection crashes again. Sky seem to be having a few problems. Anyway, I can't thank you enough for your encouragement.

All the best,

Bri


steffen wrote:Hello Titian,
Thank you for your kind reply. The truth is that when I first read The Frosty Hours I felt a certain kinship with that adopted robin friend of yours "flashing his patch of red", savouring in his dreams that "net of fruit and buttered neebs" he knew would be waiting for him the next morning

To those casual readers browsing these pages, I would advise them to read The Frosty Hours with the attention that it truly merits because, to paraphrase a famous definition of poetry, it is breath itself. Its speech is breath. This poem relates to our thoughts and emotions to such an extent that, like breath, it actually fills our bodies, creating an emotional-physical impact which could be said to represent the very centering of poetry.

Best wishes,
Jim

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Fri Dec 24, 2010 7:34 pm
by steffen
Merry Christmas, Titian,
It seemed to me appropriate to give "The Frosty Hours" the attention it so much deserves, especially tonight -the night before Christmas, "the darkest evening of the year". Thank you again for this unforgettable poem, a precious tribute to Frost, but all your own.

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Tue Jan 11, 2011 1:45 am
by titian dj
Hi Jim,

I hope the festive season found you in good spirits. I've been here there and everywhere. My mother used to say ''It's hard work enjoying yourself '' :) Well, I'm back home now; the tree is packed and tucked and sanity seems to be returning to the whole town.

''the darkest evening of the year'' :) Thanks again for your kind words.

Happy new year, Jim.

Best

Bri


steffen wrote:Merry Christmas, Titian,
It seemed to me appropriate to give "The Frosty Hours" the attention it so much deserves, especially tonight -the night before Christmas, "the darkest evening of the year". Thank you again for this unforgettable poem, a precious tribute to Frost, but all your own.

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Thu Jan 03, 2013 7:51 am
by steffen
Titian--
A robin dropped by my garden a few days ago and perched shivering in the beech tree. I thought of your wonderful poem,The Frosty Hours, and put out some cake and bread crumbs. No foxes around here though.
Two years ago I sent you a message like this to wish you a happy holiday. This year it comes a bit late, but here in Spain, Christmas gifts are exchanged on the Feast of the Three Kings.
Actually though, it's a good excuse to call attention to this poem of yours which never fails to fascinate. Keep writing.
Have a happy, blessed 2013.
Jim

Re: The Frosty Hours

PostPosted: Sun Feb 17, 2013 10:35 am
by titian dj
Thanks Jim,

Sorry about the tardy response. It was great to read about your robin friend and I was tickled pink
that you mentioned The Frosty Hours. I recently hung out a bird feeder to help the hungry birds
survive the cold snap that Winter has seen fit to throw at us.

All the best, Jim

Bri

steffen wrote:Titian--
A robin dropped by my garden a few days ago and perched shivering in the beech tree. I thought of your wonderful poem,The Frosty Hours, and put out some cake and bread crumbs. No foxes around here though.
Two years ago I sent you a message like this to wish you a happy holiday. This year it comes a bit late, but here in Spain, Christmas gifts are exchanged on the Feast of the Three Kings.
Actually though, it's a good excuse to call attention to this poem of yours which never fails to fascinate. Keep writing.
Have a happy, blessed 2013.
Jim