SnowBound

The unending snow and winter weather led me to search for my old winter prayers and poems. They help cheer me up when I am snowbound, which seems to be every few days….

In a Bronx Ice Forest

I walk in a magical garden
Immersed in God’s icy miracle
Jeweled icicles dangle from branches
Like frosty Faberge surprises

Star flies beam up to crystal forests
Dancing dizzily in
diamond dusted
tinsel tossed
tree tops

Frozen fringe frolics on ev’ry twig
Each tree has become a star catcher

What secrets sleep in silvered silence?
What wonders await in wintry webs?

Out of pain filled snow shadowed darkness
God gifts us with graced growth
Glist’ning in
the frigid
emptiness.

© E.M. Ramos 3/1996


Psalm 147: 12-20

Jerusalem, give glory!
Praise God with song, O Zion!
For the Lord strengthens your gates guarding your children within.
The Lord fills your land with peace, giving you golden wheat.

God speaks to the earth, the word speeds forth.
The Lord sends heavy snow and scatters frost like ashes.

The Lord hurls chunks of hail.
Who can stand such cold?
God speaks, the ice melts;
God breathes, the streams flow.


Prayer of the Season

Shall we praise you, hail-hurling God, in winter’s splendor,
in the grace of snow that covers with brightness
and reshapes both your creation and ours?

Or shall we curse the fierce cold
that punishes homeless people and shortens tempers?

Blessed are you in the earth’s tilt and course.
Blessed are you in the sleep of winter
and in the oncoming Lenten spring.

Now and then and always, fill these lands with peace.
Amen.

Winter Bench

Winter always inspires me. Walking in the cold, snowy, quiet Garden, I see a lonely bench. Such a lovely sight. And a poem comes.

Winter Bench

What use a bench
alone in snow?

For long ago remindings?
Or far off summer yearnings?

Yet, to be is but a dream.
Ago, a faded mem’ry.

How serves this bench
in here right now?

To place its emptiness
near my crowded deep down dark.

Then sit awhile
and leave some stuff
upon its seat.

To rise again
in lovely light
upon my way.


© E.M. Ramos 1/11/2011

January Poems

I don’t know what it is about winter that inspires the poet in me but it does. Maybe it’s being able to see through uncluttered bare branches, to see what I didn’t notice during the distraction of Fall. Anyway I am just grateful for the gift of another poem.

Winter Whine

This is not your gentle January.
This month means business.
Freeze drying the brain
Shoving shiv ‘ring bones within
To seek refuge nigh
Desiccating hearth,
There to brood on shortened days
To cry dry tears for dead dreams
And look back in anguish.

Or perhaps, January says “go out”.
Sip in the icy breath of life.
Dance merrily on the slippery way.
Dare to fall and rise again.
And look ahead in awe.

© E.M. Ramos 1/8/2010

The next poem was inspired by my dear friend Mary, 95 years young, who says that she seems to be sleeping most of the day. I have long connected late life with winter. And so ….

Winter Waiting

Winter time’s for sleeping.
That’s just the way it is.
All the world appears dead,
Draped in dried, drab reminders
Of Autumn’s harvest.

Yet just below the surface
Life lies in quiet repose.
Renewing energy
Dreaming of Spring
Hoping for rebirth.

© E.M. Ramos 1/17/2010

Winter Blahs

This winter is really getting to me. Last week I had trouble opening my car door. The locks freeze when we have a wet snow and de-icer doesn't work. Finally got the passenger door opened and began driving to the train station, when the door flies open. I pulled over and discovered that now, the door wouldn't close! Until I locked it again. When I parked, I couldn't get the door open from inside. I was trapped! So I climbed into the back seat with my heavy coat and boots. It wasn't easy. I am getting too old to be climbing over seats. At last I got one of the back doors open so I could escape. I was so afraid I would not be able to get back into the car that I left it unlocked.

Then I thought. I am really sick of winter and there's still two more months to go. Now I know why seniors (like me) retire to warm climates. Happily, I got the car started for a trip to see "South Pacific" with my friend Pat and her Bronxville senior group on January 21st. More about that later. And even better, I am looking forward to my Italy trip with my granddaughter next week. Hope it's warmer there!

December Poems

It's time for the "December" poems. One is from long ago .... must have been a very wet month that year. Or maybe it was my "too much to do" blues talking.

DECEMBER DAYS

D defines DECEMBER,
DISMAL DAYS beyond DESPAIR
DROWNING me in DANKEST DEW.

DRENCHING DREARINESS abounds,
DRIZZLING DARKNESS deep within
my DREAD-full hidden DUNGEON.

WHERE is my S? my SEPTEMBER.
WHERE is my SUN? my SALVATION.

© E.M. Ramos December 23, 1996

I was on jury duty this week. One thing, jury duty gives you lots of time to wait, and to write. So I finished a poem, the first I've written in many months. Enjoy the pre-Christmas frenzy, but take time to slow down and contemplate the reason for the season....

December ‘08

December’s sun burns cold.
It comforts not at all.
Christmas trees snicker at
malls making merry
while wintry Wall Street
winds wail.

Advent’s vigil turns up
the volume, squeezing
the last drop of silence
down the drain.

STOP sprinting and slow down.
LOOK deep within for warmth.
LISTEN for Him born
homeless and poor.

Breathe in the Light of the world,
the ultimate Christmas presence.

© E.M. Ramos October 9, 2008

Grandma's Story - Chapter 2 Part 2 "Christmas"

Continuing the story of the holidays back when I was a kid ...... the first part of this Chapter is on my November 23rd blog. "Grandma's Story" is being written for my grandkids in "grandkid language".

Chapter 2, Part 2

Our family celebrated St. Nicholas Day on December 6th. We hung up our stockings, actually they were Kiki’s long nylons, with our Christmas list attached. And the next morning, the stockings would be filled with fruit, German cookies, candy and toys, their toes bulging with oranges and apples. But the list would be gone!

We always bought our Christmas Tree and trimmed it on Christmas Eve, which was a very special day in our family. One of my favorite smells is Christmas tree; don’t you love the smell of Christmas? I loved seeing all the old familiar ornaments each year and adding to our collection. I remember when we bought the little wax ornaments: snowmen, Santa, angels – now there’s only one left. And how excited we kids were when Dad bought the first bubble lights. We all helped Dad decorate the tree. My sister Kathy would put the statues of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, angel and wise men in the stable with the blue light.

We would hear Santa’s jingle bells in my grandmother’s house and then run into her living room to open our presents. Afterwards, we’d go down to my house and open more presents. My Mom would usually finish her Christmas shopping and wrapping just minutes before we opened our gifts. One year Santa showed up and we got to see him in person in our own house! Boy, were my brothers surprised. I remember a very special Christmas gift: a Sparkle Plenty doll, that drank from a bottle and wet! Sparkle Plenty was a character in the Dick Tracy comic strip when I was a kid. But the best surprise gift ever was a Hi Fi Stereo from my Dad. It played records and had speakers. That was long before ipods and CD’s and even tapes. I spent many happy hours listening to my music on that stereo. What was your best Christmas gift ever?

Before my cousins moved to Pennsylvania, we would go to their house for more presents. All the gift giving was done on Christmas Eve. Christmas day was for church to celebrate the birth of baby Jesus. I remember how grown up I felt the first time I was allowed to go to Midnight Mass with Nanny and Kiki. After Mass on Christmas day, Dad took us to visit relatives and friends who lived nearby. When I got older, I would visit my friends on Christmas morning, see their trees and presents, and exchange gifts.

We always ate at my grandmother’s on Christmas and we always had turkey. Back then no one made turkey except on Thanksgiving and Christmas. But the very special treat for my family was Aunt Kate cookies - Aunt Kate was Pop-Pop’s sister and she lived 4 or 5 blocks away. She baked her famous cookies only at Christmas and we have passed down her recipe from generation to generation. I will make sure you have the recipe to pass on to your kids!

On Christmas afternoon, we went to visit Grandma and Grandpa L. and all my L. cousins. After Grandpa retired, he went to live with Aunt Anna, my Dad’s sister. She lived on Long Island and driving back from her house was the first time we saw houses decorated with Christmas lights. It was so beautiful and so exciting. I used to paint Christmas scenes on our windows facing the street but it was a long time before anyone put lights in city windows.

Later on, Grandma and Grandpa moved to New Jersey to live with Aunt Elizabeth. On the way to the George Washington bridge I liked to see the giant ships on the Hudson River and dream about taking a cruise to Europe. When we saw Palisades Amusement Park (it’s not around anymore) across the river, we knew we were almost there.

Let me tell you about the Christmas of 1947. That year I prayed and prayed for a white Christmas. Well, it began to snow the day after Christmas on December 26th. It was a blizzard! It snowed and snowed and I thought it would never stop. The snow hills were higher than me and I was scared. I asked my Mom why it wouldn’t stop snowing and she said that maybe some kids were still praying for snow. I couldn’t understand that at all.

But snow was so much fun for us city kids in those days. We would “ski” down the snow hills in the street and make dams of the icy, slushy water. Our woolen snow suits would be soaked and freezing when we came in from playing. And do you know what happened to all the Christmas trees afterwards? When the people threw them away on the street? On my block the teenage boys would gather them up and light a giant bonfire – right in front of my house, where the fire hydrant was. One day I was in Nanny’s living room and saw the orange flames leap up to the second floor. That was really dangerous! I am very glad that no one thinks of doing that nowadays.

In the old days, Nanny’s sister Annie and her family would come to our house on New Year’s Eve. There were a lot of those cousins too. We always had to eat pickled herring on New Year’s Eve – it was good luck or something. On New Year’s Day my Mom got to cook and we all gathered at our house to have ham and Mom’s famous pineapple ring and cottage cheese salad, with a cherry on top.

So you see. Holidays for us were always about family and friends. Just like today in your time. Some things don’t change.

December 10, 2005

Poems, a Psalm and a Prayer

A parting gift for the fans of Winter: my Winter 2008 poems, a psalm and a prayer.

Wind Chill

Take a breath.

Feel the icy river
flow up and over
the throat

only to get stuck
just disappear
but where?

Is it so very
warm within
that glacial air
evaporates
on contact?

Then why the feel of wrapped
in a shivering shawl?

Why the empty echo
deep inside,
the terrifying cry
of all alone,
cold as a
dementor’s kiss.

In winter’s long dark night
does a votive spark
still flicker
in some distant corner
promising Spring?

© E.M. Ramos Jan.2008


Winter’s Window

I wander in the winter woods alone,
secure in the embrace of jolly gray giants.
I look through their leafless litter
to see what I did not behold before:

the elusive hawk
the spires of the conifers
heavenly pieces of light

While on my path
the last fragments of fall
frolic merrily
in the wind.

Ah, winter’s ebb
so icily warm and welcoming.

© E.M. Ramos March 2008


Psalm 147: 12-20

Jerusalem, give glory!
Praise God with song, O Zion!
For the Lord strengthens your gates
guarding your children within.
The Lord fills your land with peace,
giving you golden wheat.

God speaks to the earth,
the word speeds forth.
The Lord sends heavy snow
and scatters frost like ashes.

The Lord hurls chunks of hail.
Who can stand such cold?
God speaks, the ice melts;
God breathes, the streams flow.

God speaks his word to Jacob,
to Israel, his laws and decrees.
God has not done this for others,
no others receive this wisdom.

Hallelujah!


Prayer of the Season

Shall we praise you, hail-hurling God,
in winter’s splendor,
in the grace of snow
that covers with brightness
and reshapes both your creation and ours?
Or shall we curse the fierce cold that punishes
homeless people and shortens tempers?
Blessed are you
in the earth’s tilt and course.
Blessed are you in the sleep of winter
and in the oncoming Lenten spring.
Now and then and always,
fill these lands with peace.

February Poems

Since I posted another (long) chapter in my career as a gerontologist last time, I'd like today to share a (short) poem. I get especially inspired in winter. This is one of my favorites. As is often the case, inspired by the NY Botanical Gardens.

A Walk in Frigid February

The woods are wallowing
in wanton whiteness.
All darkness has departed
to a dwelling deep within.

It fills me with a coldness so complete
I cannot feel
I cannot breathe
I cannot hope

The earth is glistening
in raptured repose,
the lustre of lovemaking
aglow on her snowy skin.

New secrets wait to be
revealed in icy silence
resplendent in the celebrating sun.

The river rails in frigid February,
releasing scarlet sparklers
in random revelry,
reflecting starry spirals
in his wailing waters.

It fills me with an awe so incomplete
I cannot feel
I cannot breathe
I cannot know

yet I can hope

A gift of time interrupted
upon a stony bridge.

copyright E. Ramos 2/20/00

Winter Poems

To celebrate this balmy January day, I will share one of my favorite winter poems.

A Walk in the Warm Winter Wood

Springtime in January
feels like an old friend
clasping me in her arms.

Shivering stillness drapes me
in velvety pine while
silver tongued twigs
beckon in the moonlit sun.

River paths come alive
with gray radiance,
bursting to spew secrets
I'm not yet ready to receive.

Not in January.
Not in winter.
Not yet.
Let's wait awhile longer.
Just be still.

Too soon the sun grows cold,
chilling me to my feet.

As I hurry away
stillness slips gently
from my shoulders
like a lost scarf.

copyright E. Ramos 1/11/2000