A Kiss in the Solstice Abyss

Cherry

By Turlough

Sun, 21 Dec 2025
  • 140 reads
12 comments
 

 

A Kiss in the Solstice Abyss

 

The Earth’s trajectory went amiss

Towards the end of flaming June

Now we’re in a dark abyss

It’s cut short my afternoons

Been sliding half a year to this

The reverse couldn’t come too soon

To feel that warming solar kiss

‘Neath a waxing crescent moon

 

The Holly King has had his day

The Crone’s on her deathbed

The Oak King’s up and on his way

The Infant’s raised its head

Soon we’ll display our nuts in May

As the hats and coats are shed

And boys and girls go out to play

In frocks and shorts instead

 

We found a clearing in the wood

Lit a roaring fire that glowed

Round which we danced all in the scud

Except for a splash of woad

But forgetting about the likelihood

Of a northerly wind that blowed

Our ritual would have been so good

If only it hadn’t snowed

 

It’s not the cold that bothers my head

It’s the dearth of nature’s green

Darkness dictates that I lie in my bed

So for days, like the sun, I’m not seen

I’ve tried solar lamps, vitamins A, D and Z

I’ve drunk Ambre Solaire and morphine

But today the gloom passed its watershed

The best cure for this sickness there’s been

 

Image:

My own photograph of the setting sun at Europe’s western edge.

 

 

 

 

Certificate 12
Poem
Poetry in Commotion
Humour
Nature
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)

Comments

Submitted by insertponceyfre... on

Ambre Solaire and morphine - that's a heady combination. Did you add a slice of lemon?

 

Submitted by Turlough on

That's a good idea IPFN but instead I put some Lemsip around the rim of the glass which, for me, added to the sophistication.

Thank you for the cherries. But you've reminded me... my cocktail was nothing without a cherry!

Turlough

Submitted by TJW on

Has the ambience of something good on the brink, something that compels you to stand closer to the edge.  But it doesn't compel me to display my nuts in May or any other month.

V/R

 

Submitted by Turlough on

But when times were hard it was all we had for entertainment. Well, that and the ferrets.

Turlough

Submitted by TJW on

Fair enough.  Making your world a boys' locker room is always entertaining.  

 

Submitted by Turlough on

It's a sort of reference to a children's rhyme...

Here we come gathering nuts in May

One of those nineteenth century jobs that nobody has ever understood.

I thought it might have been just a British thing but the world wide web said they had it in America too. 

Turlough

Submitted by TJW on

I listened to Eugene Onegin, the radio drama, and there's a scene where he hears singing and is told that it's the berry pickers who have to sing while they gather to prove they ain't eating the berries.  Wonder if those kids had to do the same when gathering nuts.

 

Submitted by Turlough on

When I was training to be a podiatrist one of the lecturers told us to always talk to our elderly clients while we were working on their feet because very old people often stop breathing if they're experiencing something even slightly uncomfortable. So if we could hear them talking we knew they weren't dead. Now you've mentioned it, I wish I'd asked them to sing.

Turlough

Submitted by TJW on

What attracted you to foot care as a profession?  Don't get me wrong.  I'll massage a female's feet all day.  I wish you would've convinced them to sing too, those old folk.  They have returned to innocence.  Were babies then took care of babies then became babies again needing to be taken care of, shit, trying not to end my sentences with a preposition, anyway, feet are funny and they are also cute when they're small and dainty and suffering in pinched high heels.  Why do females do that to themselves?  Their feet are perfect.  They shouldn't abuse them.

 

Submitted by Turlough on

I usually say that it was the glamour that attracted me to old people’s feet but really it was the money and not having to work for a boss. It’s a job that nobody wants to do and that everybody needs doing, so I was in great demand. I worked when I wanted to (which for many years was about ninety hours per week), I charged a fee that I set myself, I didn’t have to check with ‘other members of my team’ when I wanted time off for a holiday, most of my punters were lovely interesting people and I got to decide for myself when I was going to retire.

Put your bare foot on a piece of paper and draw round it with a pencil. Then put your shoe on the outline you have drawn. You will see that your shoe is a centimetre narrower than your foot (and in many cases, more) which illustrates the fact that by putting on any item of footwear you are harming your feet.

Turlough

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Happy Solstice Turlough,

I loved your poem, though I have to say that this is my favourite time of year. I think I must be a goth, because I don't mind looking as white as a sheet, and love walking and being in the cold, I can even take the sun blaring in my face at this time of the year. For me if we could have Spring then Autumn, then Winter, I'd be very happy. Summer is when I stay in doors because the heat gets way too much for me.

Though I'm glad for you that the days will be getting lighter and knowing how much you enjoy the sun, I'm sure you'll soon be off on your travels to far distant lands...good on you for being adventurous yes

Any way I hope you enjoyed your Solstice Sunday. smiley

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Good morning Jenny.

Thank you for reading and enjoying my poem even though my thoughts on winter are poles apart from yours. I envy you. I do try hard to enjoy this time of year but I find it impossible. I have to go out in twenty minutes (to the vet, of course) but the drab day beyond the window isn’t very inviting and I can’t find any enthusiasm. I think it might have slipped down the back of the settee.

So I’m very pleased that you and all the other Goths will be happy today.

Good on you!

Turlough