/reddeerartscouncil
Writes of Winter Poetry
We're excited to share the stories that have been submitted for our Writes of Winter contest! We received 13 submissions:
Red Deer Winter Migration by Sierra Wilson
First Snow in Red Deer by Sierra Wilson
Ode to the Seat-Heater by Aleesha Neal
Magpies Dance by Judy Brownlee
Winter in Capstone by Judy Brownlee
Red Deer River Winter by Lynne Hall
Wonderland by Nadine Dunseith
Wheeling to the Store by Karla Rosenkranz
The Winter & The Deer by Sarah Derksen
Twinkling Lights by Melanie Biggart
Winter in Red Deer by Susan Dearing
Hills of Love by Taryn Pelletier
New Traditions by Erin McDougall
Ode to the Seat Heater
by Aleesha Neal
Rose-hued cheeks
Snowy streets
Breathe hanging in the air like icicles
Gaetz Lakes path
Winding back
Brave souls on thick-tired bicycles
Winter’s glow
Little stroll
Quickly becoming quite onerous
Worried face
Panicked pace
A wonderland feeling less wonderous
Thoroughly numb
Mood now glum
A glimpse of dirt-streaked silver brings cheer
Waste no time
Climb inside
And summon heat to defrost my rear
Poetry Runner Up:
Winter in Red Deer
by Susan Dearing
Winter in Red Deer’s confused —
it never knows what it should do.minute it’s warm and sunny,
next minute it’s –30 out of the blue.
Taylor Drive turns into a slip ’n slide,
and Gaetz is crawling slow.
Snow can be pretty —
as long as the wind doesn’t blow.
Tim Hortons lines stretch forever,
double-doubles keep us sane.
We clutch our coffees like survival gear,
and hope our cars start again.
Deer roam the streets at midnight
like they’re out clubbing with friends,
Then freeze in your headlights staring,
like “Bro… why are YOU out at 1 a.m.?”
Snowbanks hit mountain status,
plows show up whenever they please,
And we all walk like awkward penguins,
not to bust our knees.
Red Deer winter builds “character,”
(or so the old-timers say),
But mostly it builds sarcasm
and excuses to stay inside all day
Red Deer Winter Migration
by Sierra Wilson
My daughter beckons me to the window,
eyes wide with her special brand of wonder.
“Look, Mom! That’s the longest V of geese I’ve ever seen!”
And it is. We try to count the wobbling strand as it moves across the winter sky.
There must be fifty maybe one hundred birds or more.
Their flapping wings cut like stitches against the pale sky.
I think the birds know something.
The cold is coming, and it’s time to go.
I laugh. Maybe I should be smart and join them.
But the next day, a chickadee hops outside the window,
feathers fluffed and perfectly round.
Another comes and then another.
These little birds never choose to flee.
They skip from bare branch to bare branch,
munching cheerfully on my daughter’s offered seeds.
First Snow in Red Deer
by Sierra Wilson
My children know how to greet the snow,
bursting through the front door,
jumping wildly amidst falling flakes.
My son, as always, lies face first in the fluffy whiteness,
embracing winter like a long absent friend.
I’m a little more reluctant, hovering
like our cat, half in and half out at the doorway.
But the rhythmic stomping of booted feet draws me, so
I step out fully into the wonder of first snow
Magpies Dance
by Judy Brownlee
Chickadees chirp their cheerful songs
A frosty Red Deer morning
The sun slowly emerges
Diamonds sparkle in fresh snow
Magpies dance in the cerulean sky
As the golden rays glance
Off their pristine, white feathers
A blue jay carefully balances
On a droopy, thin branch
Near waxy, frozen red pincherries
The children from the new daycare
Laugh as they prance, hand in hand,
Past the icy, sleeping fountainWinter in Capstone
by Judy Brownlee
Gone are the Capstone outdoor music concerts.
Gone are the tangerine pots of pretty petunias.
Absent are the bright green Adirondack chairs.
Gone are the little kids wobbling on bicycles.
Absent are the orange, black and grey scooters.
Gone are the sidewalk café’s fraternity of friends.
Absent are the crowds at the summer night markets.
Gone are the dancing fountain’s sparkling lights.
Now, winter winds rustle tall grasses on the Green Spine trail.
Tiny Christmas trees in snowy pots line the streets.
A solitary coffee sipper perches on a cold, icy bench.
Hardy bicyclists tread the sand-pebbled, frosty walking trails.
Magpies, bluejays, and chickadees watch it all.
The sun visits from the southwest, lying low in the sky.
Huge pine trees twinkle all night with silvery bulbs.
Canada 150 Square overlooks a frozen, quiet river.
Capstone winter, quiet and white.
Red Deer River Winter
by LynnE Hall
Skaters slide gliding Bower Ponds
with their pups in tow.
Kids toboggan hills
ripe with snow.
Red Deer River
stuffed with ice
It’s trees shake their limbs
in snow joy.
Red Deer River sings
a winter tune
As crystal snow
awakens winter
sprouting cold delights.
Wonderland
by Nadine Dunseith
Frozen pond,
the stage abandoned
where once
actors skated and jumped
to the joyous words
of the Bard
A winter's tale, born
of an innate desire
to play
amongst the audience,
wrapped in blankets once but now huddled
next to the fire,
crackling flames where
skaters now glide
across a frozen
Wonderland. Dreams
of tomorrow when
the days become
longer and the sun
lingers. Now the light
disappears and fades
into black. A dramatic
exit and an applause
for another performance,
the skaters making one
more loop, catching
the final act of
twinkling snowflakes
and icy breath.
The stage is empty,
but the spirit of winter
remains. Frozen pond
starts to thaw and the players return, more
inclined to dream
of tomorrow. They bow
to Father Time and wait for the next occasion
Wheeling to the Store
By Karla Rosenkranz
New tire treads, old-man winter’s here,
All I can do is try not to spill.
Rising drift, I see you there.
I got this again, a challenge, a dare.
Frost-bitten fingers; gotta get through, this trip to the store.
New tire treads, old-man winter still,
All I can do is try not to spill.
Glaring ice, you cannot hide.
I’ll take the risk; tread barely gripping, I slip and I slide.
Brittle bones; gotta get through, this trip to the store.
New tire treads, old-man winter still,
All I can do is try not to spill.
Got the gifts, now back I go,
Ice and drifts and a blanket of snow.
Stiffened muscles; gotta get through, this trip to the store.
New tire treads, old-man winter still,
All I can do is relax and chill.
Gifts gladly given, and a mess in tow,
Full heart; the joy so great, this baby Jesus, we celebrate.
Twinkling Lights
by Melanie Biggart
Twinkling lights softly glimmer
Tells the world Christmas is near
Love and peace, joy and comfort
Be with you, and all you hold dear
See the world through eyes of children
How they marvel at the sights
Twinkling lights softly glimmer
Christmas is a holy night
Twinkling lights fill our hears with
All the joy and wonder of
When we give our time to people
Who don't know the wonder of
Christmas peace and joy and comfort
Who don't know this love we've found
Twinkling lights fill our hearts and
We know we have love abound
Twinkling lights Twinkling stars
Show us where on earth we are
We are more than just a person
We are meant to show our hearts
Twinkling lights show our world
Darkness has no place at all
Twinkling lights drown the darkness
Christmas means so much to all
Twinkling lights drown the darkness
Christmas means so much to all.
The Winter & The Deer
by Sarah Derksen
You'll always remember that
very first day
When you look out your window
and winters here to stay
The world suddenly covered in
a cold blanket of white
Tiny sparkles can be seen no
matter day or night
All the hills & the valleys
simply call to your heart
You're never to old to begin
at the start!
You're all bundled up from your
head to your toes
Don't worry. Be brave!
Ready? Set... Go!
A GT snow racer, maybe a crazy
carpet ride, for me a simple garbage bag
But who cares... you know why?
Because these hills & those valleys
here in the Deer will bring back
their sparkle, year after year.
Hills of Love
by Taryn Dawn
I wonder if they will go back in time
and remember hills of love
cookies and hot steam
what it was like with you and me
Their little brains may block it out
as just another day
but inside both you and I will
know
it was much more than just play
Their little bodies will remember
what it was like to be just safe
to fly and play and run and jump
and be tightly tucked awayNew Traditions
By Erin McDougall
Red berries on snowy trees,
Little fluffed up chickadees.
They make me think of your pottery mug,
The one you bought at Kerry Wood.
My boots shuffle-step as ice cracks.
Biting cold slips up my back.
The prairie sun is rising in shy beauty, yellow on pink on fawn on blue
A sight that returns my thoughts to you.
Holiday planning, craftiness; it was our time,
Now, such a far-off paradigm.
Through this nostalgia I cannot grasp how to conjure newmerriment,
From the ashes of this bittersweet sentiment.
This Season is steeped in our decades-long traditions,
We celebrate differently now so you don’t miss them.
I promise we will bring you along; you will not be far.
After all, like you said, ‘that’s what hearts are for.’
