Today we had a full house. The kids were all home and it was loud and wonderful chaos. Once they went to bed, I started my art with a watercolor stick and a charcoal. It ended up looking pretty dark and twisty. I added some silver marker to it, but it didn’t do much to brighten it up much. I decided to roll with it and create a little poem inspired by this art.

Winter New Moon

By Jacquelyn Block

Frost bites the air—raw, metallic, thin,

Branches claw, tangled veins of sin.

A purple bruise smears the dying light,

Cold breath splinters into jagged night.

Shadows writhe where the forest aches,

Ripping silence with brittle breaks.

Barbs of ice snag the skin of the sky,

A feral hush where the wild things lie.

No moon. Just the pulse of the void’s deep hum,

A fractured stillness, sharp and numb.

Roots grip the dark, fierce and true—

A hunger rising, something new.

I haven’t been sharing my poems as much recently, since publishing them on my blog or social media will disqualify them for submission to various publications. But since this was just something I whipped up this evening, inspired by this drawing, I’m making an exception.

I usually don’t rhyme my poems when I write them quickly, but the rhymes seem to be flowing a little more freely with my more frequent poetry writing. I’m catching myself rhyming when I’m talking now and then. Funny how brains work, init?

What creative practice has been creeping into other areas of your life lately, or am I just weird like that?