Nigel Best has been writing poetry on a range of subjects for over forty years. He has performed his work at several Scottish book festivals. His poetry has been greatly influenced by life experiences, as well as by his love of language.
Melt Down
it landed, ladened my world
white fluffy
brown ugly
grey sludgy
black ground, minus eight, crunch now
yellow stained, stay clear, don’t eat
foot print, tyre print, paw print, bird foot
white cap bush bent
broken shovel, wooden handle splintered
roof tile coat, gutter full, icicle
mound high, slabs piled, loose crushed
car roof with white mohican top, car tyres, wheels, bumper coated
droop the azalea, pot bound, white heavy cap of frozen weight
dripsicle, spikesicle, freezing pointed fingers down
steam belching from hidden flue
smoke wafting, wood burner firing
weather warning
red, amber, yellow
thaw, freeze, thaw, frozen rain
weather warming, melts to floods
blizzardly wind, blastery gusts, die down, sky light from grey leaden
thrush in bush, red wing stranger, visitor to new found land, garden
blanket sound dumbed by white clad roads and tracks
figures dressed in boots and hats
gloves and that’s not all, thick socks and striped scarves
children as old as forty-five throw hand packed, specially picked ice snowballs
slide on trays and sledges, plastic, not good wood like proper sleighs
scandinavicle
snow boots, ski poles, nordic walk
slip slide, skinned shins and elbows red, like nose drips
reindeer red nose day, laugh
slip, cry, laugh, smile
no milk, no bread
freezer bare
inventing meals from cupboard tins, jars ’n cans
out of date, out of time
couldn’t care, add lime and oil, garlic and thyme
community spirit thrive
shovel your neighbour’s drive
check they’re still alive
offer coffee, laced amaretto, warm the cockles, hearty, heartfelt stuff
snowman, snaewoman,
built, igloo fashioned, twigs and sticks and carrots and coal
gonna go when…
snow gone
melt down time
grey slush, not magical orange street light on pristine white mound
gonned away
drip to gutter dirty
not cold enough to feel cold, in need of hot toddy
not warm enough to doff hat and cough
not pleasant
not pretty
back to what was before
away go big shovels ’n brushes
away go blackbirds ’n thrushes
snow thaw, toes sore, chilblains
mind games
snow melt, fingers dry felt, fill drains
back to green, heart flames
mend damage, heal wounded branch brown
mow and prune and weed pick
and plant and plan for summer, summa this ’n that
and sun hats
talking about how bad it was when the snow fell
You can find Nigel’s previous poem, House., here.