Ice Quake Poltergeists

By lupus tenebrae

Sometimes, before I pass out
by the warm grille of the furnace,

I ply strange ice quakes for
a reason and find they're not

poltergeists, steeped in mystery
but the shifting of tangible earth:

Mother Nature, dogged in searching
for a warm spot in her frigid heart.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2014 lupus tenebrae
Published on Wednesday, December 17, 2014.     Filed under: "Poetry"

Author's Note:

One of my quirkier poems, to be sure, and I fear the context may be too specific for anyone to actually relate to it...still, I couldn't let it go to waste.
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Comments on "Ice Quake Poltergeists"

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  • A former member wrote: I really dig this. Really interesting structure and rhyme scheme too. Cool write!

  • TropicalSnowstorm On Wednesday, December 17, 2014, TropicalSnowstorm (1703)By person wrote:

    Great piece! I like it! What was the context? Passed out by a furnace sounds like an interesting back story... Scholar

  • lupus tenebrae On Wednesday, December 17, 2014, lupus tenebrae (872)By person wrote:

    It's not necessarily the most interesting story, more personal if anything, but I'll tell it anyway: Back when I still lived with my abusive father, he kept the thermostat at 40 and below during the winter (often nailing it in place), I was never able to accurately surmise why he did this...perhaps it was out of spite, to save money or it was a show of his power over me, couldn't say. It got to the point where my bed was ice cold, and I would simply shiver until I ultimately exerted enough energy to fall asleep. One night, I'd found myself in the bathroom while the furnace was on, it's as if I was experiencing genuine warmth for the first time in eternity...I felt so comfortable there, and the carpet was plush beneath my rising chest, I just kind of dosed off lying next to the register. Ever since then, it's been a sort of habitual thing, I still do it regularly (most of the time it's involuntary), even more so when I'm depressed...there's just this sense of safety, I suppose, like I'm in my own little pocket-sized dimension and nothing can possibly harm me. It's one of my least detrimental quirks, and I don't see it stopping for awhile, nor do I have the desire to put a stop to it myself. I'm glad you enjoyed this piece, and hopefully, the story behind it wasn't all that underwhelming. Scholar

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