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Winter Sad Poems | Sad Poems About Winter

These Winter Sad poems are examples of Sad poems about Winter. These are the best examples of Winter Sad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Kyrielle | |

The Winter of My Tears

"Alas! The lessening light, the worsening my plight- My face- a somber expression..." excerpt from *a poem by Just That Archaic Poet The summer of my laughter’s passed; my happy skies grow overcast. No meadowlark is singing here. The winter of my tears is near. In vale of shadows, sun hangs low. I sojourn now where chill winds blow. Into November’s gloom I peer. The winter of my tears is near. Before I meet eternity, a snow shall come and bury me, Its brilliance - anguish soon will mirror. The winter of my tears is near. The summer of my laughter’s passed. The winter of my tears is near. *Poem interpreted: "Equinox" This is technically a kyrielle sonnet for the Reinvent, Reimagine, Revamp! Poetry Contest


Details | Rhyme | |

Winter's Relief

Let winter come 
And freeze the sky 
No more will shadows cast  
Let showers turn to heaps of snow 
With gardens hidden deep 

Let working cease 
Migration fly  
Let herds to safety dash 
Farmers idle, fires glow 
No fields left to reap 

My picket fence
Blockaded high
No perfect cobbled path
Let winter come, and snowstorms blow   
I need some time to sleep  

By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos


Details | Free verse | |

A Winter Walk

I needed some time, some space to think
And it was either take a walk or drink
And since I knew drinking would solve nothing
I put on my shoes and I started walking

The wind blew the chilly air
Through my unkempt locks of hair,
But I hardly felt the biting cold,
Walking with memories warm in my soul

The street was dark, cold and silent
It was funny the places where my mind went
While I slowly walked across the blacktop road
No destination in mind where I would go

It's funny the things you will remember
I recall a day in mid-December
And how suddenly, nothing seemed the same
After that man at the door called my name

I followed him into a secluded office
Where he would tell me his diagnosis
And suddenly I felt my beating heart
But the rest of the world had just stopped

I felt a hand in mine get tighter
I don't think the room could have been quieter
I shook my head in total disbelief
Too numb to feel anything, even grief

The question asked, "What does this mean?"
But the answer didn't mean anything
My head too fuzzy, my thoughts too jumbled
I turned to my love to speak, but mumbled

I don't remember what else he said
Because of the swirling thoughts in my head
It took three days before I could even think
Which led me to tonight: walk or drink

So I walked and I thought and I truly remembered
Dreams of the past, love treasured forever
Friendship and laughter, sorrow and pain
As though I was reliving my life over again

Little things that I'd sorely taken for granted
Things that didn't happen the way that I planned it
Promises made and ones that were broken
Love that was shared, love still unspoken

The frosty air filled me with a sense of renewal
Inside my soul was fighting a duel
The angel, the devil, both battling demons
Inside of myself I fought to redeem them

I don't know who won the ethereal battle
And I'm not sure right now it even matters
Where once I believed everything for a reason
I'm finding that harder and harder to believe in


Details | I do not know? | |

A Material Christmas

It's Christmas! Christmas!
That time of year
When people are filled...
With holiday cheer?

Yeah right. . .
I really do wish it were true
But people are people
Through and through

It's not about happiness anymore
Or in respect to what matters.
In reality it concerns what you get
And the food that is piled on the platters.

What has happened to the world of today?
Where is the 'loving and giving...'?
Now it is all just me, me, me.
Is this a nightmare? Or are we actually living.  

Yep we might have a lot of things
Hang on! Let's add some more
It isn't the family that I'm expecting
But the postman knocking at the door.

When the topic turns to Christmas cheer
Lets go stuff our faces...
Break out all that lovely beer!
Chuck away those graces!

But... Suddenly the month is over
There go all the gifts you gave
Your debt payments crawl closer and closer
And you become a material slave.






Details | Romanticism | |

A Flower's Funeral

A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.

-10/6/2013-


Details | Ballad | |

New Year's Eve

Can’t think about the Year that didn’t last
Can’t fight the time and how it passed so fast…
Voices were cheerful that night
Everyone was full of silver light

I heard the sounds but didn’t care
I couldn’t help but only think and stare…
I dreamed of love that possibly I’ll never share
And of life that was just like a fairytale.

In that second of complete despair
I saw the moon and realized it was all a dare
Then your voice whispered in my ear
Promising me all I needed to hear…


Details | Concrete | |

dry cry

the child of a distant mother
whose cry ran dry over the other,
the child of nothingness in winter
whose feet ran cold to the toe,
to whom were she without 
a glow to the unknown?
for whom need she commute
when she does crawl than norm?
then who must follow when she cries
to the voice of a soul child; so dry?
where is the father gone too long
or were there a mother, done too long?
whose child a tender care must one render
to which child than love of a parent?
her lips cracked in instances 
and tears long soaked in her tearful skin...
 
opn28032013/0315


Details | Senryu | |

Blue Winter

overcast day
winter winds sigh and moan
grieving over you


Details | Narrative | |

Dead Winter

I still remembered that night
the snow was heavy and unusually white.
We gathered around the fireplace,
Momma was sharing her Christmas grace.

Daddy went home and brought us presents
Momma stopped her story and away she went
out into the snowy streets 
buying us winter treats.

It has passed dinner and she’s not home.
Our stomach started to ache and roam.
Daddy began to worry,
and away he went in a hurry.

Me and Anna were still inside
looking through the window with eyes opened wide.
Then Anna started to cry,
I was still wondering why
until I saw a shadow in the foggy snow.
Anna squeezed my hand and wouldn’t let go.

A squeak, a squeal - 
a spinning wheel
down the hill
that’d thrill and kill.

It came clashing and crashing
through the glaciers it went bashing
through our door it was breaking, 
left us all shaking and quaking.

We did not restrain
the shrieks and tears weren’t feigned.

Next morning the neighbors came
and told us that momma and daddy weren’t the same.
I followed them and what I saw
with only a glance made me drop my jaws.

There, two coffins neatly laid
“Uncertain causes” was clearly sprayed.
I laughed and thought I just got played
but grief suddenly fell when the priest prayed.
Nobody helped when I fell limp on the floor
as they carried my parent’s bodies through the shattered door.

From that day on there wasn’t winter anymore.
Snow were redder than red – the color of gore.
Their tombstones were always cold solid steel
and if you came close you’d feel:
A squeak, a squeal - 
a spinning wheel
down the hill
that’d thrill and kill.


Details | Monoku | |

winter burial

a pine cone sinks into snow - winter burial



12/7/2013


Details | Free verse | |

Last Sonnet



Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.

Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.


Suyash Saxena 
St. Stephen’s College.


Details | Personification | |

The Snow

Falling at a terminal velocity
From the ether we fall at a speed that is  
Slow
What is my purpose, my destiny
Inevitable fate befalls the
Snow

Colliding with the other frosty white souls
Scattered across the ground sparkling like bright white
Gold
We're born in a season that is dead
How can something so white and pure be 
Cold

Like vampires the sun is our infirmity
Dawn approaches illuminating hues of
Wry
The epiphany before my death 
Is everything is impermanent 
Why


Details | Imagism | |

Something good

The smell of coffee: hot and bitter in the cold winter night 
With the rhythm in the left hand and the rhyme in the right, 
He wrote a poem in his secret pocket,
A wistful star like a speedy rocket
Ready to leave this planet intense blue
In search of other traces of life anew.
He remembered after mother had died,
In the cold touch ,stalagmites and stalactites cried.
Father and son felt a strong taste for sweets.
As in the sunset, the blind boatman meets
With an awkward touch the water`s ring
But generally they needn`t to eat anything
For a while they rested an extraordinary team:
Father insistently (sometimes boring) told him
All his recollections:childhood,war and the rest…
All muscles and teeth pressed hot, like ice on the crest.
The son learnt them by heart, and later
He would retell them to father, even better…
One was on duty to wash the dishes;
The other tried to follow his wishes…

Their only joy was to read and read and read…
One had to cook at home ,and to bake the bread
In a bread factory:He was happy even when he was sad.
He could recognize each bread: All his loafs were bad.
He was like Chaplin in “New Times”.
He was speaking in figures and rhymes.  
He wore a monk beard and father was much more younger.
Looking through the window: grey hunger and anger …

At the weekend, he used to ask his father 
About the favourite meal, but rather
He would find a surprise the next day.
Each day was windy winter and grey…

Father had the same touching answer:”Something good”.
In the strange interference ,water and fire ,one was rude.
Solitude  was their common friend stealing in like a lizard,                                       
But, in the afternoon they played sweeping their courtyard.
They had leaves in autumn and snow in the winter.
The sky was grey without sun, the clouds were bitter.
Father was counting the leaves, in the old horizon
The son was painting the days ,in the cold horizon.


The war with the falling down leaves fighting hard 
With red faces like an inveterate drunkard .
And years after his father met his final hope,
The son would stop in front of  the sweets shop , 
Ready to buy recollections as Christmas tree sweets.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Here Comes Winter Again

Here it comes again; softly knocking on windows at 2A.M, here comes the winter at a cold silent night, awakening my soul with the smell of dust after rain, the smell of mom holding me into bed, with the voices of my sisters playing next room, here it comes again with painful delights, here it comes again taking me back home.

Let the drops of rain knock on my door and let them ache my heart, let me taste the sweet smell in my tongue like a little boy getting wet beneath the rain, waiting to be rebuked, but none of this does matter because the burdens of life are slipping down with the rains being drifted on his coat, none of this does matter because the weight of life was just not this cold before.

Here comes the winter with empty corners in my head and echoes of laughters in my room, a piece of chocolate I can no longer find and a broken toy I’ve never thrown away, with good sweaters that never felt warm on a cold night like this, let the chilly breezes of winter take me back home again, to smell my father’s smoking cigarettes and my mother combing my hair, and the smell of coffee beans on one cloudy morning to refresh my day, oh here comes the winter, remembering me again and stopping by with few memories to take me home.

Check out my writings at:
http://echoes19.wordpress.com


Details | Rhyme | |

Winter Weary

Relentless and endless rain pours down
From the Heavens, dark and grey.
Sad and alone, I sit by the phone
Restlessly longing for sunny day.

Relentless and endless, dreary rain
Covering the country side.
I sit by the phone, sad and alone
Hating the rain I cannot abide.

Relentless and endless, so it seems,
The January days go by.
Sad and alone, I sit by the phone
And shiver with winds that won't die.

Relentless and endless, no respite,
Each day boring as the last.
I sit by the phone, sad and alone
Until cold winter days have all passed.

January 2, 2013


Details | I do not know? | |

celsius

Fallen snow will remind of me/ it is snowing ... 
Slowly as in the dream/ 
Boy word-beads/ with signs on his spine/ 
He kisses fine/ 
Your eyelids /

And it snows ... It snows /so slow/
It does/ and you're thinking of me/ 
'Coz it's warm/ it's better to stay in warmth/ 
Waiting for summer dim/ 
It is snowing/ slowly like in the dream/ 
Flakes/ go round/ playing the music theme/ 
You've been looking for rescue/ 
You searched in wine/ 
But it's in me/ 
all the rescues are mine/ 
It is snowing/ the snow is fluffy and white/ 
If you see darkness/ I'm deaf and blind/ 
there's the cast of time/ on the arm/ 
But I discern the light/ 
Dreams/ upon your eyelids tips/ 
Prepare you for winter drowse/ 
And it snows/ 

Fallen snow/ will remind of spring /
it will crumble and crackle in vain/ 
It will snow / fluffy /white/ and slow/ 
And you'll become whole/


Details | Rhyme | |

winter song

I’ve felt the seasons each with passing time
each with weather tuned to its own phase
winter brings a cold I may not survive
if it weren’t for warmth that comes in its own ways

some say what’s in the sky depends on what’s in your mind
but how can you light a fire when the rain won’t dry?
to me seems like a big thing to deny
in the long run, just a different way to lie

bring your ice, bring your frost
bring your chills, don’t count the cost

bring your winds, make things die
have no mercy, cloud the sky

spring is bright and warm on certain days
summer is the single most bold
autumn is bright and warm on certain days
they all bring their days of dark, dark cold

winter’s frost forms in ways unclear
many of these chills i cannot relieve
the other seasons hint its coming’s near 
kinda like winter never leaves

bring your ice, bring your frost
bring your chills, don’t count the cost

bring your winds, make things die
have no mercy, cloud my sky


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Portrait In Indigo -She Dreamed Of Icarus

                                                                 **~~**

She seemed to be like a delicate portrait
   which had fallen from its gilded frame 
Abandoned, lying face down on the cold winter floor
   An elegant portrait once painted
In resplendent hues of indigo blue 
Her eyes told a story of bittersweet 
   magenta colored sorrows bathed in tears
that etched themselves throughout
   The frail intricately, woven canvas of her soul 

Over time thoughtless hands had subtly 
   Contrived to manipulate the beauty 
Of her painted portrait into a resemblance 
   Likened to that of a cold, chiseled statue 
Carelessly molded by calloused fingers
   Lancinating the fragile fragments 
Of her spirit leaving her heart
   With etiolated worn fabric - called her life
 
She dreamed of Icarus soaring down
    on silvery wings of steel shrouded 
in cobalt and lavender clouds
    with outstretched, feathery fingers
lifting her up to dance a Stravinsky ballet
    As it was meant to be - not how it was 

She was a beautiful, fragile butterfly 
    bruised by a world much too harsh 
for her diminished spirit 
    leaving her unable to fly away
 from the skis thirsty rains 
    making it difficult for her to fly away
 from the skis thirsty rains
    It left her struggling to stay afloat
 In the springs melting snow 

Life had bruised her tender skin
   Gnawing away like insatiable insects 
On her delicate pink frescoed soul
   Leaving her feeling 
Like a fabricated manikin on display
   For all to pose her as they may

 Muddied soil was the blood that coursed 
  through her veins, holding her tethered heart 
in fleshy, mounds of chocolate brown earth 
  It held her helpless in its hold 
clogged by the silt which descended down 
  Into spaces of her soul…
Like murky strings of yellow tattered maize
  Leaving their ragged tassels tangled
Throughout her life flowing veins 
  Choking off the blood she needed
To nourish her hungry heart 

Mighty winds toppled her willowy limber tree
  Snapping the delicate boughs
Of her outstretched arms 
  As they pulled at the tender fleshy bark of her skin 

She stood cold and alone 
  In the icy winter night wrapped 
Only in her wounded, naked flesh
  With open, bleeding wounds 
Under the icy blue mist of the winter moon
Her heart and soul painfully revealed...
   In shades of indigo blue

                                                                     **~~**


Details | I do not know? | |

The King Of Winter's Death

In the Land of Make Believe
The flowers fade
The King decrees
The leafy trees that grow so tall
Will be forced to fall
Chop them down if they dont bend
Take their will away
I am the King Of Winter's Death
I steal away the Child's Breathe
I take away their Innocence
Mothers beware
Of my lustful gaze
The child Loves
But then they will hate
It will consume them 
Till the day they die 
And like the trees 
     They'll Fall
         They'll Fall


Details | Personification | |

Winter

‘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.
Perchance,
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. 


Details | Tanka | |

Like Winter

Sadness, like Winter
Seems endless, but remember
Beneath the thick snow
Lies a Winter empty tree
That will bloom green in the Spring


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Golden Fertility of the Harvest

He is the sinking of the final red orange sun of the glowing summer 
Warmth no longer oozing and seeping into the pores as I lie bare under the skies 
Jeweled dewdrops on the morning grass to dampen bare feet all softness under  
And the shimmer on the surface of the lakes like the diamonds in your eyes 

He is the golden cusp pf Autumn's Fertility 
The ritual dance of the scarecrow in the breezes 
(Straw coming loose and flying towards you, most certainly 
will brush up against you and tickle before he ceases)  
 
And this thinner less lumpy all seeing scarecrow  
Seems to be in no remorse: his knowing face will always grin  
And his arms will always be raised in a wave to show 
He will protect the yellow brown stalks that bend before him 
 
He is the crisp wind that caresses the crinkled foliage 
Their rustling like long flowing skirts on a 1940s ballroom floor 
These winds chill the fingers and toes and your face with the stinging red roses  
Yet when winter beckons the retreating light, we will be frozen at its core 

He is silent snowfalls and many winter moons  
And the brown earth beginning to expose itself  
The uncoiling of green and mud beginning to ooze  
And all new life breaking free from its fragile shell


Details | Rhyme | |

The Chiming Winter

She breathes a white mist. Her soul shivered,
Her heart now dissipates on ice.
The snow falls silent, a note unheard.
Belief falters of the Jesus Christ.
It's hot; The salty beads tease her
But her cares are frozen still.
Her naivete of life has dispersed;
In a soundless second, her hope is killed.

The colours are raw.

It is winter now where it was summer then.
Her face is dead. Covered in frost.
She cursed her flaws in heat, now winter made its descent.
The cold wind blows colder,
Her aspirations gone dead pale.
What she feared most held onto her
The ice consumes her warmth; a freezing veil.

"Jesus...why Jesus?"

The sweat is overpowering.
Between her legs dries under the sun.
She hears the melody of his belt singing.
Her scream doesn't bother...her reality cannot be undone.

"Why me Lord? Why me who never sins?"
Silence. It could have been worsened.
Praise be to Him that your life is now ruined
Instead of it stripped away and taken.

Praise be to God for He is good.


Details | Senryu | |

Green island fire and ice

so sad for the loss                                                                                                  comfort the families                                                                                                        L'Isle-Verte pray   *                                                 *                                                     -  Quebec fire bodies search temporarily suspended


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Train

Please...
My and mines' next meal awaits
My sons school fees awaits 
My youngest daughters' shoes await
My nieces' dress awaits 
My mothers' medication awaits
My mud huts' repairs await
The winter blankets await
And so does the winter coal 
Rosies' next instalment awaits...
Get me to work, I have to be there by eight.