The Broth, the deadly winds that howl,
And reaps a many thing so foul,
Misty, thick and foggy Breeze,
Seasoned with the salt of seas,
Carries with it snow and sleet,
And blows and beats the north of East.
So bitter wind it sting the bones,
Stealing breathes and nipping nose,
The broth is not a hearty meal,
But a wind so cold and hard as steel.
This is my B poem for the A to Z challenge.
My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within.
A broth is a kind of soup, made up of peas barley and lentils with a whole load of veg in it. Often ate on New Years Eve, and on cold days. The weather up in Northumberland has been so bad lately, this is where the idea of the Broth wind has come from. A wind so thick and foggy, almost like a soup.
My poems kind of lead onto one another so I do suggest you read the poem before it to get the gist.