tiny jeweled sarcophagi
for the Frosted Verse Challenge
By John CoxPublished about a year ago • Updated about a year ago • 1 min read
before the sun crests the eastern horizon
before shadowy deer vanish in the predawn mists
before the stream’s bubbling waters glaze and harden
before the first snow falls and blankets the golden foliage of autumn
an incorporeal visitor gently kisses flower and stem, twig and branch
where bees in torpor sleep upon stiff and brightly hued petals
entombing them in crystalline vapors, sparkling and gossamer
like tiny, jeweled sarcophagi waiting for the warmth of morning’s light
About the Creator
John Cox
Twisted teller of mind bending tales. I never met a myth I didn't love or a subject that I couldn't twist out of joint. I have a little something for almost everyone here. Cept AI. Aint got none of that.
Comments (18)
Loved your poem. Nicely Done !!
Repetition of "before" gives this sense of anticipation and potential 😁
Wow, love the opening lines, they set up such intrigue.
Oh this is rather special, I'm so glad I didnt miss it.
Great job weaving beautiful language together here, lovely. 😊
Well written but sad for the bees. Well Done!!!
This line reminded me when I went hunting many years ago: "before shadowy deer vanish in the predawn mists" there is a stillness with purpose in this poem and I loved it
Well this is absolutely fantastic! A unique take but exactly what the challenge called for! Stunning imagery, lyrical lines. The last four lines are true showstoppers. I really love this, John!
I love how this feels and sounds so much like dawn, and how even the bees were given the spotlight to mirror our waking bodies. The fact that you started this with the word 'before' really does put this scene and moment at a standstill until the sun rises. Very well written John 👌👏
Well-wrought! Bees tend to fret a bit when it gets cold, don't they? You don't see many, but the ones that do wander about seem drunk, delirious. I have seen a few caught in the frost, the poor little fellas, and you describe it well here. Were they the final scouts of the season, giving their lives for the Queen in one last search for pollen, like the explorers who braved the Arctic hoping to find a lush green land beyond the ice? Probably just a silly anthropomorphic fantasy on my part, but the more I've communed with nature, the more I respect the idea that consciousness exists in other forms...
Hmmm - I read this and thought it was ice….but then I pondered and thought: a bee drunk on pollen and stuck there while the web weaver encases it - a spider, before the snow. Beautifully done, John (whether I understood it correctly or not).
Icy bee mummies. Yes, of course they are beautiful
A breathtakingly beautiful and evocative description of nature's quiet transformation. The imagery is vivid and the language is poetic, capturing the delicate beauty of the frozen world. This is a truly masterful piece.
Whoaaaa, this was breathtaking! I absolutely loved it!
Such a gentle poem, capturing the mood of frost’s stealthy arrival. I really like: “ brightly hued petals entombing them in crystalline vapors, sparkling and gossamer like tiny, jeweled sarcophagi waiting for the warmth of morning’s light.”❄️
Very and beautifully written, yet a feel a little sad for the bee.
oh wow, John this is just sublime! love the approach and that stirring and impactfu title
Oh, wow, but the enchantment and imagery is so very real in this poem. I love the original, creative view or perspective of winter's first frost. Poor, poor bees. I thought about possibly writing one along the same lines (but I'm sure it would not be nearly as phenomenal as this one) about the spider and its frozen webs. This poem is quite beautifully and well done, John.