Winter's Anger

[ellajam]

Hi and welcome.

I found this engaging and think it's certainly worth it for you to take some time with it. Some of the rhymes are forced, some lines twisted for their sake, the meter slips sometimes, but those are all things you can remedy. I've only read it through a few times but here are a few notes.

I'm not really all that comfortable with sharing my poems, and I'm kind of afraid to find out just how bad I am, but here goes nothing:

Winter's Anger

One day I walked a trudging through the snow "walked a trudging" is wordy for no gain.
The temperature outside at twenty below,
When I spied a lump mishapen. misshapen
I gave it a thump
And uncovered the bump; nice lines, I'd cut "and".
A rabbit, a coney, a lapin. I like the repeat because I like the words.

It had frozen to death
From the cruel winter's breath,
Unable to make it home.
While I with my coat
And plenty of hope
To my hearth did roam. On a bitter night you roamed? Nah.

'Twas there in the cabin warning: I don't mind 'twas, but I've been given hell for 'tis and whilst.
I saw the rabbit,
Or a spirit, the creature thereof.
I nearly jumped from my boots
At the sight in the room--
The spectre disapeared in a puff. disappeared

I rubbed at my eyes,
Shocked and surprised,
For the death was no fault of mine.
No, it was a warning,
For the next morning
As I found out in time.

With trembling limbs I crept into bed
And slowly, so slowly, rested my head; I'd change "so slowly" to "I".
Fear cowered over me like snow.
I awoke to the cold,
And never less bold,
I found that I could not go.

The fire in its place did fade
Yet within my hut I stayed;
The rabbit, again, was there.
It munched on a carrot
Though frozen and hairless
Such a spectre, sad and sere. I like "sad and sere."

The loathsome creature blocked the door
And I heard the angry wind roar
As my cabin shook in the cold winter's day.
When at last it abated
And when the rabbit had faded
A tree on my woodshed did lay. "Did lay" is one of those lines twisted for rhyme's sake.

Were it not for the spectre, I would be dead
And my tale here would never be read.
But was it real, or merely a vision?
Each day I leave a carrot on a stone
And by the next morning, behold, it is gone;
I had survived winter's anger arisen.

(P.S. Please tell me about any spelling errors, spellcheck doesn't seem to work in Mozilla Firefox. Thanks!)

I hope I didn't overdo it, and someone with more meter experience can probably help you with that, but these are some spots you can look at, you may not agree with my points, your poem.

Again, welcome, thanks for an interesting read.