“It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon“
a heavy blanket or two between
her and October mornings
fog curtaining windows
pressed against panes
she defies its walleyed glare
the demanding clock
daywear strewn across a chair
while spiders criss-cross
chimney breast to grate, corralling
Covered this poem with just 44 words for Merrill's quadrille prompt: Blanket
57 thoughts on “cold comfort”
I can almost feel insomnia that cames before the moment of the wakening… the demands of daywear and the wish to stay in bed.
Yes I know that struggle so well
This is deliciously dark and just the perfect description of October as the days grow colder. I love; “voyeuristically she defies its walleyed glare,”… such beautiful use of language 💝💝
Indeed I have gone darker as we lose the light here – still you found it delicious – thank you
This little bit “fog curtaining windows
pressed against panes
she defies its walleyed glare” was just fantastic.
Ahh many thanks – I was pleased that panes has a double meaning too
Witty piece – I particularly like that loooong pause between end of stanza 1 and start of stanza 2 – and rather than springing out of bed, the clothes can… stay there on the chair – laughing here.
Now that’s interesting Peter – evidently two ways to read this either languorously lazy or darkly depressed!
I feel the weight and comfort of those blankets.
Recently read that weighted blankets may help relieve depression and anxiety though perhaps it is just comforting
Yes, they are a thing here in the US…
I like that comparison / description of the fog.
Thank you – often I shy away from personification
I love the voyeuristic fog curtains, and the enjambment of the first to second stanza. Also, the somewhat ironic title. . . .so much in few words.
Many thanks for the prompt Merrill which drew out these somewhat cold and dark lines
You’re very welcome. Thank you for participating!
I love the alliterative title, Laura, which reminds me of the wonderful book Cold Comfort Farm and ‘something nasty in the woodshed’. Your poem brought to mind the heavy blankets my grandmother always had on the beds in winter, one of which I inherited and sat on top of our duvet for many winters. I love the personification in ‘fog curtaining windows / pressed against panes / voyeuristically’.
What an awful place that farm was! I loved my blanketed bed as a child and am tempted to ditch the duvet. And thank you for your appreciation
The blanket and the fog both seem to be acting as insulation, protection, maybe – or detachment. Maybe both are necessary.
Nicely observed Sarah -or even smothering, heaviness
I like the fog pressed against the panes like it even more after your saying it has a double meaning.
Aha the double entendre hard pressed here! Thank you for reading closely
You are very welcome, Laura.
Love the alliteration in the last several lines. The feeling of comfort in this. I love it when the house is blanketed in fog although it reminds me a bit of that move, The Others. Weighted blankets do not east anxietry and depression alas! I only sleep two hours a night now instead of the four.
weighted blankets and the fog are both comfort and oppressive – still addicted to alliteration but have to tone it down – thank you
We had the fog this morning, but it was our day for ditching the extra bed layers.
I am not ever a morning person!
the poet is not for mornings either!
Fog can feel menacing, and here it’s pressing against the panes, while that same menace seems to be waiting with
thank you for your astute observations there!
The blanket is a comfort in those depairing hours. I can feel that demanding clock pressing on my face.
the ticking is so mindful of time wasted or well used but always passing, passing, passing
Wonderful work, Laura, though this arachnophobic old geezer cringed the whole way through. Other than the spider, like I said, wonderful work.
lovely feedback from you Ron – spiders seem to feature quite often in my poems but then I am a bit of an arachnophile
Oh I feel that chilled morning. Not cold enough to turn on the heat, yet chilled enough to not want to get out of bed and face the morning. Well done!
Wonderful contrast between the warm comfort of the blankets and the world that awaits and can’t be put off
well said – thank you
“She defies its walleyed glare” is such a striking statement of indomitable spirit battling oppressive despair. Love this, Laura.
I really appreciate this feedback Dora
Clever piece. I feel the struggle.
thank you for noticing!
Your words sent a cold, autumn chill through me
Loved these lines: “fog curtaining windows/pressed against panes/voyeuristically”. Nicely done quadrille.
thank you – quadrilles one of my favourite forms
Really great descriptions of the fog against the window and the spiders closing in the chimney grate while you roll over under your blanket! Very nice!
many thanks Dwight – time and the season make for great contrasts
This was excellent Laura I really like the general rhyming pattern.
thanks for noticing Rob – it started out quite accidentally and only latterly did I attend to it more
This sums up so poetically that feeling of not wanting to get out of bed on cold autumn and winter mornings: the hibernation instinct!
indeed – and more so when depression is added to it
Yes it makes it extra difficult
The autumn chill can definitely make the morning harder to begin. (K)
Autumn darkness at its best! I love it!
brings out the best of my dark side 😉
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