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For winter I wear black.<\/strong> There will be no yellow<\/strong> Black is the opposite of white,<\/strong> ***<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sara Russell<\/a> Thanks Robin, Rebekah, Rab & Val… this poem was originally written in 2011 because I never liked the season of winter and suffer from S.A.D., but since the tragic death of my sister this year (early December) it seemed to fit my mood, to post it again online. Trying my best to have a normal Christmas… of course you never know when things are really actually OK until suddenly they’re not, and someone special is gone forever.<\/span><\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n AKA @pinkyandrexa Poet, Artist, Cartoonist, Goth, Time Traveller. Friend of cats everywhere. Former Editor of Poetry Life & Times. \u2026 See also http:\/\/creativethinkersintl.ning.com\/profile\/SaraLouiseRussell plus over a million poetry links online.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n Sara Louise Russell , whose internet name is \u201cPinkyAndrexa\u201d, is a UK poet who has earned a well-deserved reputation as a highly respected twenty-first century poetry publisher and poet. She was the founder and Editor-in-Chief of Poetry Life & Times, one of the world\u2019s premier poetry E-zines, which ran monthly from 1998-2006 under her tutelage. She has always been in on the scene with graphic design, animation, 3D art, web design, sign writing, photography, film and poetry recital videos. Sara is founder and current editor of Paper Li. Poetry Lifetimes. http:\/\/paper.li\/pinkyandrexa\/1321389290.<\/p>\n Her poetry has been published in Artvilla, AuthorsDen, Hello Poetry, The New Pleiades Anthology of Poetry (Describe Adonis Press, Ottawa, \u00a9 2005), Sonnetto Poesia, Word Machinist and more, as well as in several e-books by Kedco Studios Inc. (USA). Her skills as a sonneteer are particularly remarkable as featured in the recent publication of the anthology of sonnets Phoenix Rising from the Ashes. Friesnen Press Ottawa Canada Edited by Richard Vallance.
\n not one spark of colour<\/strong>
\n shall break my mourning for this<\/strong>
\n season of death.<\/strong>
\n It speaks of the way I feel inside;<\/strong>
\n the chill stab of sorrow, <\/strong>
\n the darkness of hurt long concealed.<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n until daffodils appear;<\/strong>
\n no blue until the bluebells,<\/strong>
\n no pink until the cherry blossoms<\/strong>
\n scatter their petals<\/strong>
\n over the long-thawed land<\/strong>
\n to make way for the coming of the goddess of spring.<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n of the flat white snow;<\/strong>
\n black’s like a sheltered cave.<\/strong>
\n Let me hibernate in shadow<\/strong>
\n draw the curtains<\/strong>
\n close my eyes.<\/strong>
\n Wake me only when springtime finally arrives.<\/strong><\/p>\n
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