Violence Winter Poems | Violence Poems About Winter
These Violence Winter poems are examples of Violence poems about Winter. These are the best examples of Violence Winter poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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Afternoons the sky shuts down around the swamp's warning tapes
propped up with restoration piping and dirt leak fencing.
We’re fleeing toward the wild, seeking the names and shapes,
the same way the Cedar Waxwing flit and grip for berries tree to tree.
Canada Geese are easy, they lead off down the lane leaving residue,
Widgeons have green stripes and gold stripes, one American
the other European, and they’re all mumbling our family phew-do
they didn’t burn the kid, they can’t keep the house clean, drugs…
Blink away the cold wind tears. Forget all that, only remember
Shovelers have the long low profile and the long bill from studies
in New Zealand, like a deep breath, we set aside work, unlimber
spy the race of killdeer away from their guarding territory in gravel.
Our boss didn’t try to replace us, he ducked out to a new job
leaving the crime ringing in our ears like the police car roaring past.
Head down, we tunnel under the high way finding the dunk and bob
of mergansers and their hallowed or red heads,
remarking differences when the sudden scream of honking
mallards flee up river. Caught off guard, we wonder did we cause
all this pain? The rise and dunk flying goldfinch happily chirping
cling to the thistle, their favorite waste near the waste water
ponds where all the Black River water flows for cleaning
spilling into the nesting lower stages of the tertiary treatment.
That’s all this is, treatment for the shock wave week riding
current events on our shoulders, almost like the red-tailed hawk
that screams and skims our head, rising up to the setting sun
turning the sky purple and pink and bruised. That’s when wood
ducks skim into view, our breath captured and then steaming undone
but soon the heavens offer confirmation, blue angels
with their huge oversized wings soar in pairs down as gift.
We hold each other then, let screams silence, detail enriched.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper
She was beautiful, unlike any other
She stood high above the ground shining with bright colours…
Had she grown somewhere else
People would line up, only to take in her scent…
But she was lonely…
The only rose to rise where the dead lie
So nobody ever came to keep her alive…
And she still grows…
In a field of snow, a picture so cold
There…the red beauty stands strong
As if her roots had grabbed the centre of the Earth below
In a loving embrace, never willing to let it go…
There she stood…
A soul so misunderstood…
The graveyard rose…
Copyright © Zeki Madjid
They say fire and ice are an example of balance,
Associated with harmony and peace,
Even a story of love.
Is man really so jaded?
Fire and ice don’t exist like this.
Fire can be a lot of things.
It’s the passion burning inside you
Or the light that keeps one alive.
Fire comes in many forms,
But always burns everything it touches.
It consumes that which blocks its path,
Leaves only ash.
It shows no mercy,
Raging flames devour all.
Ice is more gentle and serene.
It's seclusion and clarity,
a peaceful mind.
It's loneliness and fear,
just as harsh.
Don’t be fooled by its allure.
It’s just as cruel.
It sucks the heat away,
Draining all life.
They are only natural phenomena of destruction
Copyright © Jenna Gray