I sent in a couple of pantoums to Three Drops from a Cauldron magazine. One of them will feature in the 2016 Winter Special, but this one missed the boat being a February poem. I’ll post it now while it’s still Brigid’s month.
Photo ©Frank Vassen

Winter King stands before his hall,
Cold stars in his beard, ice in his breath,
Green shoots in the snow by the rath wall,
Robin sings loud, defying cold death.
Cold stars in his beard, ice in his breath,
Winter’s king claps his broad red hands,
Robin sings loud, defying cold death,
Night falls silent on Winter King’s lands.
Winter’s king claps his broad red hands,
Fire dies in the hearth so cold,
Night falls silent on Winter King’s lands,
No fire to blaze, no tales will be told.
Fire dies in the hearth so cold,
Across the fields she comes, she strides,
No fire to blaze, no tales will be told,
She comes from where the gentle hind hides.
Across the fields she comes, she strides,
With robin’s bright song she brings the spring,
She comes from where the gentle hind hides,
Snowdrops pierce and geese on the wing.
With robin’s bright song she brings the spring,
Winter king stands before his hall,
Snowdrops pierce and geese on the wing,
Green shoots in the snow by the rath wall.