Some Days are plastic garbage bags
barely floating in the murky water of a pond,
licked by hungry tongues of lizard’s fog
wriggling in my dirty socks.
Some days are spent wading ankle deep in slush
fumbling with those slippery plastic bags,
hiding what never should have seen the light.
Some days are dirty water fumbling,
clinging like a drowning man,
embracing like a saran wrap of consciousness,
pulling with the weight of sullen lead.
Some days smell suspiciously of dirty snow
icicles of broken sweat, decay of night
and suspected miry body bags.
Some days at winter are very close to death.
Winter and open water make me see floating plastic bags filled with rotting corpses … probably I read to many detective stories at one point. I prefer ice on water in winter, putting a lid on that dark water in a way. Anyway that was my my first though at Fireblossom’s prompt at toads. So I worked those body bags into an extended metaphor.
—
January 15, 2015
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Wow. Ha! That’s amazing imagery. I’d like to step into your head and walk around a little. 🙂
Ha.. sometimes I just imagine those plastic body bags filling up a pond..
When I grew up I was afraid of the black garbage bags on the side of the road. I think they are from cleaning up the sides of the highway. But my imagination always imagined there were bodies in them.
Agreed, very nice (dark) imagery her, loved ‘icicles of sweat’.
KT
Winter can be tough..
Wow, the garbage bags, the “saran wrap of consciousness”…….one feels the ominous secrets possibly hidden in the water……great response to the prompt.
Ah.. yes. some days have disaster lurking underneath.. just like the black surface of a winter lake.
“hungry tongues of lizard fog”….excellent. This poem reminds me of that movie done about 20 years ago based on the book, Ghost Story. Creepy, cold movie.
Ah. yes maybe the cineast I once was has taken images from that.
I know images from the book and the movie has stayed with me. Both truly scary.
“icicles of broken sweat”… really nice
I like that line, too.
Bjorn is the master of “Ewwww” and also “Ahhhh.” I cringe and frown in disgust and/or fear at the former and am continually surprised, even shocked when I read the latter!
Oooh I felt the chill of the rotten corpses and body bags , especially after binge watching episodes of Criminal Minds
weird isn’t it, but it was the first I saw in the picture.
saran wrap of conciousness…ha…i love the phrases you use in this…nice grit as well….
Grit that’s lurking under the veneer of beauty is fun to write about.
oooo. Enter the eerie plastic, sometimes a bag, sometimes three sheets to the wind, always litter and not glitter.
We hope it’s litter we always do.
Yikes! I see what you mean, but honestly I don’t feel that way! But we have many bright blue days even in the cold. It is odd when the water freezes and thaws, freezes and thaws– but beautiful too to see reflections. I am sympathetic! k.
You know I work mostly in dark images.. And those days with overcast skies can be quite depressing,. The days of clear skies are different. I love those days that are way too rare in January.
ps a very cool poem, though, Bjorn. k.
Whew! What an excellent mood piece, Bjorn. You have captured the sense of depression which could accompany endless months of snow and cold. The way you brought your metaphor around to death at the end is brilliant.
Ah.. it’s pretty much January in Sweden..
i loved the imagery used on this
Thank you 🙂
Oh my, I really enjoyed this…your choice of words to describe these images…the metaphors…wow! My fav lines: licked by hungry tongues of lizard’s fog
wriggling in my dirty socks.
I love dark…darker the better..wonder which serial killer is living there or is the 3rd generation garbage man slayer?
Ah.. we never know do we.. there are always secrets lurking.
Ouf! But some great imagery here, well done
Ah… yes sometimes poetry goes beyond beauty… Maybe I should mark it for graphic content. 🙂
😀😀
Those days are grey and cold…sometimes they don’t even come in winter..such embracing imagery and i could feel the discomfort like the irritating rustle of a plastic bag stuck in ‘your’ thoughts
I cannot see a plastic bag in water without thinking of what it might hide.
You get to the dark underbelly of all that white winter imagery that is so often pulled out–winter is as cruel as anything, and often all about death–here it seems to partake of a lot of small petty trials that evolve into a larger struggle. I love the imagery throughout, original and as effective as a slap in the face–but too much more civilized, weary and knowing to do it. Great work here, Bjorn–you are on a roll.
Thank you Joy, somehow I could only imagine that dark pool of water hiding the darkness of a murdered man.
Looks like you’re having a good time 😉
It has been a while, but we ended up next to close to each other on Versewrights…
Björn
Ah-ha! The surnames beginning with R 😀
Excellent similes and metaphors in this one. Well done!
Thank you.. sometimes you have to go all wild with them..
Maybe just one or two too many detective stories… ha, but they urged you to write a unique look at winter and rivers.
I think those plastic bags are lurking everywhere.. Oh the bliss of an ice cover
I take it you’re not a fan of winter. Really strong metaphors here, I can see, and smell it!
I like the winter with sun and snow.. I hate the wet slush and murky waters…
…you went to that dark, depressing place many go to during the winter “ugliness” – fresh snow and ice is one thing, dark, gloomy, and dirty snow is another. One thing I hated about Michigan in the winter was often there was no sun….
No sun.. indeed. The clouds are deep down my eye-brows.
Those bags are full of haiku poetry. Seriously, they are.
Ha.. yes that might be so.. they have to be haiku..
I just found a haiku in one of my bags:
decomposing –
just a single eye remains
staring at the moo
Good work, Bjorn. Having fallen into a cold but not-yet-frozen river once in my late teens, I don’t enjoy getting too close to the chilly water either. Can’t say I think too much about body bags upon seeing though–until now. Good visuals for a melancholy photo and frame of mind.
All my best,
Marie Gail
The thought of falling into a river like this is chilling enough with without having to bring in body bags..
Especially when ones “friends,” who happen to be responsible for dropping her in the river, insist on continuing to spelunk in the caves surrounding the river. No, friends, no. Never again.
Wow, very descriptive and not very cozy feeling of winter!
The coziness of winter is usually absent in January – it will come I think.
Yes, wow! I remember winters like this. I felt more like a zombie escaped from my body bag. So creative!
The laden clouds above can be suffocating like a body bag.
Wow, Bjorn. This is really dark. I sounds like winter in a war zone. 😦 — Suzanne
Like those WWI trenches… Oh yes.
A brave topic Björn – the sort of subject that only the braver poets tackle. A novel structure where comforting repetition and inspired atmospheric imagery blend perfectly into a very enjoyable dark piece.
Somehow darkness is easier to write isn’t it.. but it does require some boldness 🙂
this would be a great opening to a murder-mystery novel! it would definitely set the tone. so vivid!
♥
Every plastic bag is a source of a murder story.
Well done… I love the language/ mood…. But I love snow! The beauty of the freshly fallen flakes. I have seen the dirty snow scenes – but I wal somewhere else! Enjoyed the dark.
A brilliant extended metaphor. One could get lost in it, really. And that’s GOOD writing!
Really enjoyed reading this poem.
But where are the good days, Bjorn?
Usually not in winter I think.