The Grey Season of Death


Day 10

Hello reader, I host a podcast KDOI Podcasting where we talk about art. You can listen in at or go to your podcast app of choice. I will be featuring these poems and talking about the process. I know you will enjoy.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon. You may remember one from growing up, but if you’re having trouble getting started, perhaps one of these regional U.S. phrases used to describe warm weather will inspire you. Or you might enjoy these French terms for cold weather, or even these expressions from the British Isles that are mostly for the very British phenomenon of rain.

The Grey Season of Death

10 April 2019

How many times has this time of year almost claimed my life

The changing of the year makes me focus on the regrets of the previous and the misery of what is to come

And it’s colder than a witches tit in a tin bra

Two family members around Christmas and one right after new years have crossed with direct eyes into deaths dream kingdom

I’ve only recently started celebrating so not to ruin it for my children as my mother ruined it for me

And it’s colder than a witches tit in a tin bra

Chicago has two seasons, road construction and winter. The lake will take you anytime the wind blasts from the West.

No amount of layers will protect you from the killing vipers of the vapors that slice through you

And it’s colder than a witches tit in a tin bra

I’ve had months where the sun was covered with the thickest clouds of slush, and when it did make an appearance the icy fireball gave no warmth

It’s times like this when hibernating Sol makes me want to do the same.

And it’s colder than a witches tit in a tin bra

Bullets fizzle, guns jam, hands shake uncontrollably in this wasteland, this nightmare, a tortured city on the make.

The murder rate dips because we are conserving heat to survive.

And its colder than switched tit in a tin bra

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