With his icy fingers he stole my smokey breath,
laid a sheet of slippery freezing cold by my feet
and then whispered in my ear right to the drum
that echoed in my brain with excruciating pain.
She, his wife was of a complete different temperament
quietly without fuss she crafted blanched cotton flakes,
each a masterpiece, unique as if she retained every design
she had ever imagined so each time she could create anew.
He however with his bravado with his swelled chest
would pepper speeding glass-like pellets into the air.
Sting our faces without regret. Salt our wounds.
Mercilessly bite into our flesh with his frosted fangs.
Daintily she'd sprinkle the sky with the magic of her cheer
feather the atmosphere in a delicate splatter of alabaster.
Layer by layer she laid soft sheets of snow to the delight
of everyone alike creating a playground of endless mirth.
His breath reeked of dreams frozen, nipped in the bud.
Already he had high jacked his sisters, the Autumn twins
sent them packing, hurried, gathering their rustic garments.
He had no love of his siblings except his baby sister, Spring.
His wife loving and caring would temper his yearly onslaught.
She knew of his pain, deep, abandoned by his father Summer.
At times she'd blow slightly warmer air to provide respite for
us mere humans and allow the sun to warm our weary bones.
They would sit together and it was her would bring out
the albums of family photos view pictures of his mother.
Her smile like music would soothe his stone cold heart.
He loved, when she'd visit in the guise of an Indian Summer.
With his icy fingers he stole my smokey breath.
I felt her presence there to temper his harsh avail.
Winter had arrived but when they walked as one
this magnificent couple dressed in their royal winter whites,
without a second thought you would bow in front of their regal
stance, a sight to behold, one that encompassed the entire land.
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Seasons
Feathers escaping from the pillow-heaven
Confusing the air
With the steadiness of a stampede
Advancing, clinging, smothering.
White fleecy lambs atop every protrusion
Sleek ermine boas
Draped upon the naked arms of nature
Bare of their green velvet capes.
The spatula of wind
Smoothing mounds of marshmallow frosting
Of whipped immaculate splendor.
Obscuring the drab tired earth
Her deep wounds of time
Dissolving shadows of other seasons
That Spring may arise again.
© Sandra M. Haight 2014
All Rights Reserved
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
She danced across the heavens
Whirling and twirling in delight
She slid up and down creating images
With delight she colored the sky
She made no sound as she moved
She sculpted as she danced
Unique patterns unfolded
the heavens became her canvas
colors became more vibrant
Her colors changed with each breath
She danced merrily for hours on end
Until the final curtain was drawn
With the up coming dawn.
I am naked now, my limbs are bare
A chill blows through me during the night air
No one notices me, children do not climb
I stand still hoping not to lose a branch of mine
No green, no orange, no red I am just grey
This season I do not like because of being this way
Soon the sun will begin to show
My little buds of color start to glow
Encircled by luscious green grass I will be
Seasons are my life, this next one I like.
©Holly P. Moore
Restless winter's snow covered the ground
North wind blew in another winter storm
It howled, it crawled and packed solid
Clinging where it could to frozen mother earth
Wave after wave it pounded, it bombarded
Icy pebbles scattered in all directions
Spray like mist climbed the snow dunes
As an eerie chill settled upon the land
Wind why do you blow
as if you had no soul.
You come wild with fury
making all so weary.
Adorned in silky taffeta she strides,
cool, crisp, and confident.
With delicate lacy trim she glides,
a snobby sophisticated countenance
behind which a volatile temper hides.
Once quiet and sultry,
now chilling and unpredictable she chides;
burning cold upon her breath
and breast where nature’s wrath resides.
We’ve seen her dance before—
our tempestuous winter bride.
Even the oak tree topples
in the face of mighty winds
with a thunderous crash
as 100 year old wood meets earth
Its weight resting on one thick branch
driven deep into frozen dirt
as pieces of bark and dried leaves
twist free to ride currents of frigid air
expelled from the lungs of Old Man Winter
who wandered down from the north
to visit the mountain homestead
under the cover of night
He spits ice into watering
troughs of cattle and horses
presses an eye to a crack in the wall
of the weather beaten farm house
to watch parents and children
curled up snug under hand stitched quilts
And blows in measured gusts
filling the rooms turning tips
of ears and noses from frosty pink
to beet red and ruffling the fur
of an old hound dog sleeping by the stove
who twitches from the cold or possibly
a dream of scampering across hills
chasing coons in his faraway youth
Old Man Winter stretches wide
lovingly embracing the house
wrapping all in a chilly cocoon
as dawn breaks on frost-kissed fields
He draws his quivering self together and glides
away in the morning light
Stopping on a hill to dance and twirl
spinning snow into drifts sized for the bottom
belly and head of a snowman yet to be made
Continues down the shadowy slopes to the pond
where he glides round and round
in circles and figure eights freezing the water
into a solid base of ice for the children
freed from school in this wintry day will need
a place to play to skate madly into the wind
For you see Old Man Winter like the old hound dog
remembers being young and carefree with nothing
better to do than to chase the drifting snow
Winter lashes out with awful fury knowing
the solstice means her time soon will end.
That tail between legs hangs as days lenghten
and land frozen and icy will begin to warm.
Winter's raging blizzards coat land white
with massive dirfts of snow that block
passage through the lanes and tracks.
Pristine glittering icicles adorn trees.
Lakes frozen solid, dimly glimpsed fish swim
beneath. While on banks shy snowdrops peek
and carefully open their petals one by one.
Yet still Winter tightens her grip stubbornly.
The days slowly lengthen and sun warms earth
only to be plunged back into an icy freeze.
For a while longer Winter rejoycing reigns
But Spring will soon relentlessly march in.
I wonder what Mack is brewing today
All I can do is lick the pot
He builds me up higher, my embers, they-
Are smiling cause they know they're hot
I stare at the red sofa he's sitting upon
And at the cat I've burned once or twice
What can I say? The thing knows its wrong
To sit by a fire with ice
I taste a small dripping of soup from above
My flames hiss in the deepest content
With my dancing shadows, I warm as a glove
As I wait for a new log's descent
It starts off high up in the sky
formed amidst clouds all inky
frozen solid in flakes all spiky
This frozen water falling slowly
some of it all wet and trickily
slowly it hardens so thirstily
More spikes come together
growing whiter and larger
shaping into a frosty layer
Star like now it spirals wildly
pausing a moment briefly
as it settles so blithely
Amidst a fluffy blanket
for all a shining trinket
laid in a white casket
And so the story is finished
with a flake so cherished
until oh so slowly it vanished
Always be true to yourself
Winter's warmth of white glistening promise and windswept dreams
Plays her glorious song through the forest of echoing tree's
Tumbling in her beauty upon each facet of light profound
She shimmers in a orchestrated display of heavenly sounds
In her passive seduction draped in her silver diamond gown
She calls to the setting sun and gently lies down...
She glides on silver skates across the crystal water
her heart a rose frozen in time
cold and uncaring, eyes of no expression
snowflakes fall from blue lips and fly away in frenzied winds
from Indigo skies a porcelain moon
shines down on sugar roofs
as chimney smoke writhes and slithers
like a magical genie escaping into thin air
Winter walks softly into the darkening room,
like a black tuxedoed waiter with a silver tray.
Blending ever so quietly into the surroundings,
unnoticed, silent, with polite care and respect.
Time passes and winter becomes more brash,
bold, probing, more self assured in demands.
Speaking words less soft, clearly pronounced,
days shorten, now its reach is deep and colder.
As chased by demon, winter strides full body,
its reach long and gripping in frozen hands,
Snow storm eyes, blind, sightless cubes of ice,
arctic white frozen lips, blow winds of pain.
Reluctant to free the world from frozen domain,
days lengthen, wrenching life from winters grip.
Pulsing, gasping, to retain its weakening self,
now eyes open to bright sunlight and spring.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr
Winter in Personification
Aurora And Avalanche
Heavenly blue night sky
Studded glittering bright stars
We linger for the illustriousness attraction
Shimmering lights arc throughout the nighttime sky
Water mirrors its colorful, brilliant dance
We sit and admire
On our favorite rock bluff
Surrounded by seductive fluffy white snow
Sweet moments of kisses and holding hands
Between two love birds
At a distance we hear the echo
Rapid snow flows down a mountain slope
Our dark and white plumage
Shimmers of the brilliant colors
With the shimmering lights
©Eve Roper 3/4/2015
Contest Name : Aurora And Avalanche
Falling at a terminal velocity
From the ether we fall at a speed that is
What is my purpose, my destiny
Inevitable fate befalls the
Colliding with the other frosty white souls
Scattered across the ground sparkling like bright white
We're born in a season that is dead
How can something so white and pure be
Like vampires the sun is our infirmity
Dawn approaches illuminating hues of
The epiphany before my death
Is everything is impermanent
Oh January, thee of Winter’s spawn
I cannot wait till thou art gone
I’ve had enough of bleak, gray days
To last a lifetime, and so I pray
Thou wilt use thy icy, freezing touch
On us gently, with just a brush -
A coat of frosting on the trees
But not a blizzard, I beg of thee
No brown snow or ugly slush
No winter mess, nor snowy gusts
Just a sprinkling of thy winter skill -
Still picturesque, but not so chilled
A mild month, I ask of thee
To keep the warmth inside of me
Received 3rd place in "Personification of January" contest
you sleep inside your winter buds
of grey branches
with April's gentle wind
wake up your sleepy folk
burst out of your winter beds
for Spring is upon us
and we wait for you in anticipation
to flaunt your fashion frocks
of lavender blue and angel pink
of virgin white and burgundy hue
upon the stage of a forthcoming May
waiting patiently in the wings
to herald a glorious summer..
The wondrous nature of winter
The perfect delicious taste of winter
The mastermind of winter's touch
The secret I adore of the alluring beauty of
winter, like sister, I cherish.
Keeps reminding me of home:
The dry skinny wind blowing around
The sand dunes sculpturing and evolving like sound
The fresh, thin and welcoming air above
which in secret I ponder about
missing without doubt.
But it's the new home I now analyze in secret
Its impeccable measure and nature I devour
For answer and ladder to draw
I need to capture all this new creation
in secret, then share it in secret
A visitor and literature in my life
This is another special poem of mine because with it I won a poetry & short story contest in a college I went too.
Just the young thoughts of the young mind
January came in
riding on the mood of Christmas.
Quietly she came,
like the Nun singing lullabies
in the church nursery.
The sunny fall days
lulling us into a mindset,
not to be set aside
by gifts and many good wishes.
But then the lion of winter
bursts in and roars.
She quickly gathers up her habit
and in haste draws her day
shorter into cold freezing night.
All is right in her world.
Jan 2, 2012 Charles Henderson
for Nette's Personification of January contest
The poppy said "No",
The nasturtiums said "Wait"
The seedlings were jumping at the gate;
"We have to get through Winter first,"
The old oak spoke, and everyone burst.
The pansies nodded in assent,
With a great deal of sentiment.
He looked down sadly at his girth,
Smiling wryly with perfect mirth;
"Ten more years is all I am worth".
He glanced at the herbs tenderly wilting
And spoke as though his heart were melting
"We have to be patient and wait for Spring,
And there's the catch, it's a learning thing".
"I won't make promises I can't keep
And we all know Winter will put us to sleep".
Summer will rise again, in all it's glory,
And that for now, is the end of my story.
‘Tis winter season—
a bracing weather, foggy in its warmth.
The trees are drying, as bones,
gripping water from the winter soil.
It’s resting on an earth snow:
dancing in chilliness, dazedly.
it’s waiting for a poignant breath
that will give him soul.
To feel, once more, from being numb.
To warm his heart;
but the serenity and the turmoil have ended.
The dream is forgotten by the prized.
The dream is freezing the lover.
Dear lady of winter
why must you be so harsh
shed your ermine wraps
and put away your hooded
cloak of white - beautiful as
it may seem when gleaming
in the cold sun like a thousand
diamonds and glossy pearls
the land does slumber too long
the trees sleep too deeply
under your strict command
of days that are too dark
and moons peer out from
behind cell bars and prison
sentences of winter discontent
release the prisoners of Spring
held captive by a cruel winter
in dampness and bone chilling
days and nights - let down your
dark walls and break the fetters
of those who cry out to be free
and taste the delights of the
newborn world once again..
and do away with this abomination
known as winter..
I thought I saw a snowflake in June
Perhaps, it was just silly daydream imaginations
Or were ongoing investigations really do
Upon further horizon inquiries
The sun ended interviews in blushing denial
And when heavenly interrogations finished
The sky was turning guilty blue
I’m absolutely sure
The clouds were somewhere amidst the cover up
Fortunately, a little pigeon squawked
And revealed something of the simple truth
That, there was a brewing
Conspiracy of rumors, flying
So I ruffled stoolie feathers convincingly
To spill the beans, out with his scandalous news
It seems a wintry prima donna
Performer of the coming season
In order to beat the ratings
Broke out early and was somewhere on the loose
Could it be
The very same stitch of ice I'd seen
A snowflake thespian
Acting out in the month of June
Then, I saw a glistening
Of arrogance pass right before my eyes
And tiny banner waved
Followed by the squeaky words “see you very soon”
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief
And then, my tongue was quickly unleashed
As I closed the case of any further flakes
From trying to make their premature Hollywood debuts
Upon the hush of winter snow
That glistens while the moon hangs low
A wind stirs up a blanket white
It quakes and rattles through the night
On chariots, with mighty steeds
It comes to scatter driven seeds
Decaying leaves and branches shed
With surge as storm moves overhead
It shivers cold upon the hill
To chill my heart much colder still
A tempest howl or'e chimney tops
The whipping sounds, forgiving not
Each gust comes strong with howling fierce
Through window sash, on knives that pierce
Knashes teeth, with biting cold
Shaking shingles, grabbing hold
All hover near a fire's hearth
While sleeting wrath, with fury's heart
To wait till winter's breath is spent
Tomorrow's rise, the final vent
Angry screams and threatening shouts
Peaceful dreams are tossed about
With dawning skies, a breathing sigh
Soft gentle breezes say goodbye
At last the wind has played with us
The game it won, with eager lust
There's nothing but a murmer now
Like spoiled child, it takes a bow
When winter calms, the anger ends
And brings along a peaceful bend
A tranquil peace will soon abide
~~As winter's rage is satisfied
TAMED DOGS OF WINTER
The unleashed howl and snarl
Of the winter winds
Is silenced at last
And their bite is muzzled
And put to sleep by the
Soothing sunshine of spring
I see winter much like a ghost
The cold and white I remember most.
When spring arrives it just disappears
But now it is snow and cold I fear.
Haunting shadows from lifeless trees
Set this mood that is inside me.
I look around the world seems dead
Visions of a ghost return to my head.
I see a mist rise from the unfrozen pond
I dream of a place that is far beyond.
You know of its presence yet it’s not there
I seek signs of life yet find them nowhere.
It is cold I can see my breath in the air
The cold wind sends shivers much like a scare.
I think of a ghost like the past at my side
I try to seek shelter it is warmer inside.
The visions before me seems so real
While the presence of a ghost I do feel.
Winter is much like death renewal is spring
Life shall be restored and the colors it brings.
Being halved in a disc
of ember and snow,
tinges bicker merits on opus.
Exulting own shadows
after breaking from spectrum;
from erstwhile adjacencies,
Sable consumes radiance of white
making the latter peep at night.
Grey has veiled beneath its blanket
tangerine's burst of smiles and giggles.
In false humility, azure weeps:
portraying dolor in dark hued navy.
Bold and proud, crimson was;
but is now eclipsed behind jaundice cast.
Behind the shadows, colours dwell
secretly longing for dominant reign.
Monopoly: alas, they yearn-
ignoring the threat of audience, bored.
Winter is here, weather has changed,
Bitter cold, mood rearranged,
Winter is here, unmoving it seems,
Tearing its needle, through the seams
Winter is here, and it’s here to stay,
Here in my mind, a world of disarray,
Winter is here, the light wont shine,
Disrupting themes, destroying minds,
Winter is here, oppression time,
Hindering us, for the depression climb
Winter is here, no room to adapt,
No one around, more room to collapse,
Winter is over, smell that clover,
The never-ending line of springtime lovers.
The man in the moon
pulls his collar up
around his chin
in the frosty evening
and warms his hands
on the fires of Mars..
The melon yellow sun, burns through
the winter forest,
backlighting it in shades of gray and mauve,
causing retinal flashes;
impeding the forward progress of traffic.
Car headlights, string out across the vista
of days end, like reminders of Christmas past.
Red tails flare, as the iron horses baulk
at fallen limbs, left by the last winter storm.
The air is heavy with
the monsters mechanical breath.
And, within the belly of the beast,
behind their lensed lids, condensation forms.
Frost, smeared by the fingers
of its symbiotic masters,
make the lifeless quadrupeds appear myopic,
As they rush frantically forward into
the on coming night.