Where cold stars exist in the dark,
serene winds whisper to trees
and scarce human ears can listen,
lone songs wail in the distance
in frozen moon's silver spotlight,
a mark left where paws had paused.
Written by: Kelly Deschler. January 16th, 2015
Inspired by creature #3 Coyote
nette onclaud's contest - NIGHT CREATURES
This poem was also inspired by actual events. A few weeks ago, I discovered
some large animal paw prints that were left in the snow, near my home. I later
found out that the tracks were made by a wolf.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015
Starlight pierces ebony,
above sculpted shades of white.
And moonbeams soften the scene,
gilding night with golden light.
Donning a crystalline dress,
Nature's a picture of grace.
And draped in feathery down,
stands frozen in time and space.
Billions of flakes gathering
on branches, begin to freeze.
And subtle features are carved,
by the breath of a sharp breeze.
It doesn't blow hard enough,
to dislodge the sticky snow.
And the laden branches bend,
bowing impossibly low.
Cold cast an enchanted spell,
in the throes of arctic chill.
And silence imbues magic,
to winter's artistic skill.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
Twin, silver cathedral bells, sway and chime.
As every note peals out, clear and sublime.
No winds blow through the sky, this silent night.
The peaceful heavens, filled with a celestial light.
Arm in arm, down the icy lane we do walk.
Heart to heart, our souls they seem to talk.
A pair of happy cardinals, one red, one gold.
Go bobbing through the snow, so white, so cold.
Along the hillside, stands rows of frosted pine.
The fields, blanketed in diamonds, a vision divine.
Couples, young and old, seated in horse-drawn sleighs.
Making new memories, and reminiscing their by-gone days.
Nestled so close together, like two turtledoves.
All bundled up, with warm scarves and gloves.
Amongst white winter lands, we two do wander.
While our light hearts, are growing ever fonder.
Written for Isaiah Zerbst's contest - "Let It Snow-12 Paintings of Winter"
This poem was inspired by the painting-"Christmas Day" by John Ritchie
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
You blossom too soon dear snowdrops of spring
Secluded in the cold dark earth;
The white flakes that fly still haunt the sky
Too weary with sorrow to salute your birth.
One warm day awakened you from sleep
And sang with springtime’s soft breath;
Caressed your eyes with the lips of spring
And you awakened to winter in the arms of death.
Where is the due she pledged to you
The passion of sun and song of the breeze;
The frilled hyacinth with heavy perfume
And the robin’s merry note in the trees?
Birds are yet hushed and the branch is yet bare
The snowflakes fall on the crest of the hill;
Your sodden petals lie pressed on the ground
Without warmth when winter kept his chill.
The snowflakes conceal the spot where you lie
Living too soon in a winter's cold noon
They are covered with snow so no one will know
The grave of the snowdrops that flowered too soon.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011
Behold the silent battle
That the changing seasons bring
Winter's grip is loosened
As the robin begins to sing
The flowers strain toward Heaven
As their fragrance fills the air
For spring has given notice
But winter will not despair
Winter will not be broken
As it fights with it's last breath
But spring's warm winds are endless
And the reason for winter's death
Spring proclaims it's victory
As it watches it's rival die
The snowflakes have changed to raindrops
As winter begins to cry
Copyright © Larry Belt | Year Posted 2010
All the evergreens are greener
And the pines are darker skinned
Only leaves that bear the burn marks
Are the witnesses of wind.
On the grass the dew is frozen
In a spiders web of white
And the cold that bites my fingers
Makes me wonder as I write.
How did winter come so swiftly
How did summer die so fast
Where’s the grave, where was the battle
Are they all buried in the past?
Now I feel the winter nibble
On my fingers with its frost
And the wind that it has summoned
Mourns for seasons that are lost.
Was it but one dusk, one daybreak
Was it only in a blink?
For the summer was my feather
Now the winter is my ink.
How did shadows shift so quickly
How did colours change so much
As reflections in the water
That simply vanish with a touch?
Now the daffodils are rising
Yet the jasmine blooms are gone
Now the evergreens are greener
And the frost adorns the dawn.
Yes, how strange it is to wonder
So I wonder as I write
What if winter should then also
Simply vanish in the night?
I dedicate this poem (and I'm not being sarcastic or exaggerating)
to my mentor and my friend Timothy Brumley, who taught me
the art of rhythm, showed me the advantage of counting my syllables,
raised my goal from acceptable to perfection,
and helped me to turn my nursery rhymes into poetry.
(and no Tim don’t protest, they really were nursery rhymes)
Copyright © Rauwolfia Ra | Year Posted 2011
The Fall of The Winter King
He had risen to power
fueled by a vicious and ruthless determination
to reclaim a lost throne.
His tactics had stunned the unsuspecting,
laid barren the fields,
blanketed the forest,
silenced the sounds of life itself.
A dictator, seeking no counsel,
accepting no offers of surrender,
driven by the desire to destroy
the kingdom that had usurped his throne.
Rumors spread of a daring bud – sprouting -
a tune hummed by the imprisoned trees
adrift on the whipping winds of war
in defiance of the heartless king.
A call to arms sounded
by the most gentle, the most delicate.
The first acts of open rebellion,
The resounding crack of the ice jamb
the aching roar of the river’s rage
surging over its banks
awakening those still held captive.
Slowly the insurrection took root
buds gathered in hidden clusters,
trees quietly bloomed
muffling the screeching gales,
offering safety to bands of rebels.
Flocks of warblers met -
feathered archers - hurling their
darting arrows against the glare
of a cold king’s horror.
Sweet grasses spread across
the brown, despoiled fields -
a verdant gauntlet tossed in the face of dread.
Flowers crept from thawing dungeons
waving their colors,
swarms of banished pollinators
followed the call to duty.
The ebb and flow of battle -
clandestine sunrise maneuvers.
The resurgence of heart,
the growing hope of warmth.
As memory of the chilled repression
faded preparation was made
to receive the beauty and bounty
of a new and peaceful King.
John G. Lawless
For SKAT’s Winter’s End – Poetry Contest
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
The brittle stems of Queen Anne's Lace
reduced to barren winter bone;
a hoarfrost Ermine coat embrace,
impaled in soil that's turned to stone.
The flowers now are wicker cups,
wear Bowler's hats of purest white;
the snowflakes that they interrupt
await the wind; resume their flight.
The Junco in the Prairie Grass,
drad colors blending, stem and snow;
his flitting business come to pass
without a glimpse of style, or show.
White crystal mist; the morning still,
a cold and colorless display;
the fenceposts marching up the hill
like soldiers, slowly fade away.
This day in its entirety
constructed thus to fit the mood,
cabin bound and winter weary,
must you in my lament intrude?
From deep within the Cedar tree
in blazing red from cap to tail,
you interrupt my woe-is-me,
insure my pensive mood will fail!
Copyright © Wayne Sapp | Year Posted 2010
Emerald etchings are given birth
to bask their lives in summer's sun,
until brushing brutal winters cheek,
They cower yellow; brown undone.
Swirling down onto concrete pyres,
They somersault to a random grave.
The earth lays claim to copper corpses
But the winter wind is a cunning knave.
It finds and flips the fallen fibers,
then flings them crisply to the street.
The failing sheaves of burnt magenta,
tossed like chaff from harvest wheat.
Now strewn about with playful malice,
and denied the resting place they crave,
for the golden sun is a glint of amber,
but the winter wind is a chilling knave.
Copyright © Gerard Keogh | Year Posted 2006
Light splashes in the eyes and vibrate
My heart to a rich ecstatic state
Joy is the only bird in the leaden sky
Calling the winds to choir on high
And I in the crystal world spin and spin
Till shards of snow caress the face
Like a pillow from scraps of watery tin
And all green and all colors erased.
Cast back the old belief of isolation
Of wintry purgatory and grief, jubilation
Is a white sheet of innocence here
The sinner like a diamond in the air
Frost symbol of death, and Lewis hopelessness
Shall not sing my song without regret
I take a different motif for my symbolic crest
The beginning of the pain I now forget.
Let Persephone sleep, my Yalda is here
The white breast of her flesh my pear
And I a child in a new womb of innocence
Drink of pure light and devote my sense
To leaps of faith from promise to spring
The eternal moment when season shall keep
Ivory joys before the bright immortal king
Just like a seed of winter vacating sleep.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
September, you are a wistful song
Summer sheds a tear when you come along
Sunny summer melodies yield to your mellow song
Its melody fades while yours grow strong
Summer ends and a certain sadness ensues
Sunny days make way for winter blues
September gives us glimpses of summer
Though days be short and golden leaves slumber
The vibrant colors September brings
disguise the coming winter sting
As summer dies it makes one last sunny stand
But will return, for thats how it was planned
Until then we must endure a harsh season
All bundled up, keeping warm is the reason
When the first snow falls
The pristine beauty leaves us enthralled
Soon summer will begin anew
Gray clouds make way for skies of blue
We awaken from our winter slumber
And welcome the butterflies of summer
For Joanne Grisetti's Copy Cat contest
:Inspired by the poem: September
Which was written by: Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2009
The light is coming and I wish you well...
Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook who flies alone
Inscribing solemn circles in the sky
There is no time to take a backward look
Just running, running, running, running blind
He leaves the flowered garlands that she wove
With ribbons bright, with summer’s love, behind
He runs with only hope in empty hands
All faint of heart, with life blood running cold
The chill of winter earth beneath his feet
All water turned to ice in frozen fold
All out of breath with minutes yet to live
He runs, through elder grove and stand of yew
Runs, seeking for the ancient Solstice door
Described in tales the bards and ancients knew
‘Till suddenly he stumbles on a glade
All silent where no wild bird wheels or calls
And in the glade there stands a single stone
And on the ground a moon dark shadow falls
And there, within the shadow’s light he sees
That which before him other men have found
A stairway leading down in to the earth
A dark descending path in to the ground
No way but down now, this the only way
He gathers one last breath, and full of fear
Goes down the old and foot worn ancient steps
That lead towards the portal of the year
How dark the endless steps of winter’s stair
That shadow down, down to the Solstice door
To where, beneath the door a chink of light
Hints soft and bright across the cold stone floor
He sits upon the bottom step to rest
Reflect, and contemplate the year behind
And lo, she comes, bedecked in leaves and fruit
And dancing, dancing, through his weary mind
Forget me not, she sings; I am still here
I wait for you, for life to shift and stir
And through the keyhole and the chink there blows
A fragrant waft of birch and silver fir
Reviving, blessing, soft upon his face
The promise of new life upon her breath
Touched by her grace he weeps upon the step
For she has saved him with her love from death
Another year dies, another lives
He sits and waits; she watches from afar
And as he waits the light in darkness shifts
And creaks the ancient Solstice Door ajar…
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015
shake salt slow so she see's slick snow
Copyright © Harley Green | Year Posted 2011
I left my
of wonder and
awe. A place that
knows me better
than any other place
I’ve been. This place
has changed me and
molded me into the
person I am now.
The forests, trees, creeks,
and open skies instilled in
me a love for God’s works.
The harshness of the winters has
taught me to be patient and to endure. My small
town is where I learned the small-town work ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn and earning what
you want takes a little bit of sweat and tears. Here
I learned that you don’t have to be blood to be
family. Brothers and sisters are made throughout
years of school together. We relied on each other to
be happy. This place will forever hold my heart and
soul. I am a small town girl through and through.
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for shaping me into something more than I was.
Copyright © Samantha Farr | Year Posted 2013
vivid green cedar
against winter's bare oak tree
red bird sits alone
Copyright © Donna Jones | Year Posted 2013
wind whips the weeping willow
a wolf rests deep within
watching snowflakes waltzing
Copyright © raskin bobbins | Year Posted 2013
First snow on tree tops,
Canadian pristine . . .
Nature's own beauty
Of spirit supreme.
Of crystal clear birth
Instill serene pleasure
From heaven to earth.
As the lake mirrors mountains
And deep azure sky,
We commune together,
My God and I.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014
Snow is just a mask
Regenerating earths face.
A special peeling.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Swimming, boating, sunning
Sky, airplane, ocean, seashells
Skiing, sledding, snowball throwing
New York City
Copyright © Danitra David | Year Posted 2014
Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view,
In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew.
Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck,
By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck!
By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played,
Million blossoms wide open one February day.
This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels,
Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals.
From those all around laying dormant in state,
Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake.
And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash,
Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash.
But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense,
In the short time required for fresh java to dispense.
Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass,
The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass.
Submitted to Giorgio A. V. Contest themed: Impress me with a small poem II!
1) user name: wedge
2) choice of motif: nature
Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2014
A freezing cold evening
Where the stars shining bright
With frost blade flanks
From mouth and nose steam
In the clear silence
White untrodden snows
Nature's frozen pulse
Sleep like a little baby
One gracious moon
After the night the light is shattered into gold
At sunrise raise your heartbeat
03.01.2016 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016
FROZEN IN CRYSTALLINE - 2
The icy feather flakes flitter hush--
swirl free to sprawl on midnight mush.
Sponsor Andrea Dietrich
Contest Name Frozen In Crystalline
5:22 pm, November 24, 2014
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2014
We frolic and hide
Among wind swept laughing clouds
Copyright © William Kershaw | Year Posted 2010
Frozen in his tracks, a white tail deer
hesitates to crack the gilded grass
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Let's take this chance to relish color
Embrace the autumn while it's here
for soon, we'll need turn the corner
and find Jack Frost is waiting there
His frosty face will nip the air,
His slick rain coat will steal the show
He'll blow a wind to bring the snow
and trees will shed the golden glow
Let's count the stars upon the night
Before he snaps his fingers, twice
Let's bask in harvest moon's delight
before he turns the world to white
Relax among the fragrant grass
Pick pumpkins and an apple red
Throw frisbees high above your head
Let red and rust adorn your bed
Around the corner here he comes
He whistles winds, and likes his rum
He'll offer you a icy cone
But do beware, he schemes to own
He brings along a holiday
And loves to watch our children play
Let's run around the nearest corner
To see how long that he will stay
A snap of fingers, a snap of cold
Will stop us in our tracks, be warned
He calls the shots, and though he's old
He'll last until the sun is warm
Let's take this chance to soak the sun
before he spoils all the fun
The world will never be the same
until we wave goodbye again
10/18/14 For Francine Robert's Contest: "Around The Corner"
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
Mountains put away their winter caps.
In warm sun, soon they'll take their naps.
Rivers stuffed full of melting snow;
running swift to trim, then they will slow.
Brooks frozen silent, now breaking free
to babble on their way to warming sea.
Lakes throw back thick icy covers;
their warm waves calling swimmers and lovers.
Smoke, donning perfume of fireplace logs,
now wears a new scent of burgers and hot dogs.
Trees, that for months have been stripped bare;
knitting dresses of green, they're soon to wear.
Spring hastens in beautiful gardens to tend.
New lives begin at Winter's end.
Contest: Winter's End
Sponsor: Skat A
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015
becomes robed in virgin snow
footprints prove there’s life,
yet the secrets of springtime
in hibernation till birth.
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2013
Many are the maples that encircle my home, my nest, my dwelling abode,
And in the dark of night they tap on my frosty windows, crying;
Past their deathly stance, a wintry scene,
Looking through their tangled limbs snow is falling, endlessly.
Everything in my world is icy white, sky and earth mingling,
Soon, I whisper to them, you will be wearing your emerald gowns;
Creaking and groaning they mumble in their frozen rest,
Reaching out gnarled fingers to me.
Yes, my dears, soon, so soon you will stand in resplendence,
Ice and snow will be replaced with fringes of delicate, filigree green;
Now rest, now sleep maples sweet,
Gather your memories of spring, summer and fall close and dream.
February 3, 2012
Submitted to the contest, Best Short Acrostic Poem
Sponsor, Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2013
The heavy cold grey skies
Tell of winter's want of lightness
Then lemon white breaks
Through the clouds
A painter's brush
Touches the ground
In the distance
Copyright © linda milgate | Year Posted 2010