"What falls out in the forest stays in the forest"
The tree is trimmed,
Proposing passion, protecting sweet sweat
Naked with nothing to bear or wear
Nature's breath lightens the atmosphere
She breathes in, he breathes out
The sound of rain drumming down deepens
Every form is near its end,
Deep in this forest night
A Gentleman among the trees,
Hibernating new seeds
"On the other side of the forest"
He guides my path, with ebony eyes
A convincing vent, I swallow
The fear is broken, I sleep in glee
The whispers disappear
Dying in peace by the secret bayou
Broad leaves lay under raw landscape
Stilled by the chills he quills
A quarter past midnight
Mr Romantic prepares my sheets of Winter
Contest: "Write Me A Winter Poem"
Copyright © SKAT A
Wintry white wisps wondrously whirl
Soft sparkling snowflakes silently swirl
Coolly carpeting countrysides carefully
Dazzling diamonds dancing delightfully
28th December 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON
shake salt slow so she see's slick snow
Copyright © Harley Green
wind whips the weeping willow
a wolf rests deep within
watching snowflakes waltzing
Copyright © raskin bobbins
~FALLING, without winter wings~
My mind sometimes goes there, somewhere, nowhere,
amongst the shooting shining stars, floating like in a womb, yet not afraid,
free falling flakes, weightless – wondering why, where
from the highest branch I lost my grip gasping, grasping
and tumbling hopelessly DOWN AND DOWN DEEP… into the unknown
DOWN AND DOWN DEEP, I allowed myself to fall like a raindrop,
landing a little like winter, holding my breath, above the mountaintop,
a tremble brought about by the breeze, losing myself completely,
Wandering in welters of wasted words, into the fire of all my torrid tears,
I slip into despair into the cold, a chilling fall, after LETTING GO…
LETTING GO was the hard part, the horrid heartbreak, it always will be.
We had climbed so high, so high we had to come down
and as we stumbled we slipped we slid, slowly away from one another
because we had lost ourselves, our own identities.
My journey now must be to like -- LOVE MYSELF AGAIN.
LOVE MYSELF AGAIN, a never-ending task.
Holding on to what was and always will be a falling star.
Wishing, the wind would lift us up and put us back were we belong.
Sinking, dipping, dropping, and drowning with the sea,
A path I seek when I find myself losing grip of reality.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
Sun beams like Hot Choclate on a blue day...
Soft silky and smooth on your skin...
Butterflies softly floating like falling feathers in the wind...
Gently gliding gracefully over the bright green grass...
Eyelashes brush against your cheek like soft snowflakes on your face...
Fingertips flit freely across your arm...
Together playfully prancing like horses running wild...
Spinning tops twiling tenderly....
Wishes whispered wimsically like pixies playing hopscotch...
Softly calling quietly,
I love you!
Copyright © Desvin Umberger
slowly suddenly and then without warning it crosses us and blankets our world it turns the stunning orb into a hollow sphere dull and dead and nothing is seen just bleak dark black its there its lasting the silence never to end
the day slows to a standstill and goes backward
the noises about come to a close
the shades begin to venture
the bleak blacks cross the clouds
the sky is blanketed and choked out
the sun has fled
the day has left
the night is here
the silence is everywhere
Copyright © Jayce Collazo
I’m still in the memories of the frost of twelve
I always think how amazing your ideas are
With your wonderful smile
you can heal all my scars
You are my angle with angle eyes
and those angle lips I love to kiss
I’ve never seen a liaison like this
A girl like me and a guy like you
The night of cold winter when you
hugged me in the blanket so tight
It felt so complete and so right
I felt the warmth of your body
and this beautiful relation
I wish to give you the same
warmth the same affection
I looked at the hills intently
from the balcony of our hotel room
I was seeing the plants and the shrubs bloom
That frizzy morning I got up early
scanning your face all over
Don’t ask me why? I have no answer
Baby, do you remember the night
we walked through the dark place
I was holding your hand
and in the dim moonlight I could see your face
Now the wintry memories will
always stay with me at any pace
Copyright © Kiran Bisht
Tune of the nightingale
Lyricism illuminated as you lumbered,
it was in your locks beneath lamplight,
a lilting ambulation, a melody elongated.
With a veil of longing, filling
in the solitude of a bramble
a chill, snow fell. Flawless
I thought, I of the nightingale
listened to the melancholy loneliness
with a wistful smile, a soul’s duel.
Knowledge of my own inabilities
of love’s deliberations. Liberation
flew on philosophy, to be or not
or not echoed blindly in the flurry.
Recollections nestled in a swirling trail.
Copyright © raskin bobbins
WEATHERING THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT
In this, the death prone winter of our discontent,
the world lay languishing from mitotic chaos
and malignant uncertainty---spreading a pandemic
cancer of destruction over the body of our moral humanity.
Infected rebirth cells of ancient crusade history
scatter world wide---blown like dry leaves
in chilling winds of cold war seasons.
Here, in the frozen season of time, Armageddon
stalks democracy in the chilled midnight hour;
while in the twilight of the eve of destruction,
world watchers waddle the time away: constructively
engaged in spotlight moments of warming scenes.
With a bloody but unbowed head, let not our world wallow wearily
in the mirage of winter’s defeat; nor allow her frigid blast
to shatter the bruised reed of hope or out the burning wick of love.
Let us stare adversity in the eye, rekindling the spirit of unity;
let us refashion the crumbled, rejected stones of our moral society;
we building a new and better world where we hold it to be self evident:
peace---perfect peace, is the dominant ethos of our recaptured humanity.
Copyright © millard lowe
Whispering winds of winter woe,
icy branches bend and bow,
catfish cradled in the mud,
winter waters slow their blood.
Scampering squirrels, fat & fluffed,
chasing, leaping, playing rough,
the birds are bent on staying warm,
surround the suet in a swarm.
Babs and Buster, canine friends,
stalk the squirrels who torture them,
they snort and sniff at gopher holes,
tormented by these mining moles.
In the western window, warm,
the felines flourish through the storm,
soon the sunshine's streaming in,
thus the cooking of cats begin.
Cloaked and covered, in cozy coats,
we wait for Spring with hallowed hopes,
to lay upon the dock again
and feel the sunshine bake our skin.
Copyright © Danielle White
Whispers to her,
The warm rots.
Beauty of art,
Falls onto the window,
In all shape; touching the heart,
Flying down in a flow.
With hats on all,
The cities bright,
Thick coats in the hall,
No people in sight.
For it's winter time,
The MidWest is cold,
Making love music rhyme,
Keeping loved ones close;hold.
Streets are a fluff,
Driving slow in caution for all,
Children play rough,
Down the hills they fly so tall.
Snowflakes make snowmen,
Snomen make friends,
As the birds fly by towards the wren,
The weather lends.
But hold each moment close,
For seasons come and go,
Imagine a place of prose,
Now sit back and enjoy the snow.
Copyright © Stacey Behal
Waves wash up ,
Palms paper the sky ;
Indulging impossible bliss ,
Flakes fall freely
White Window displays wishing ,
grass greener on that side,
likewise, the flip side applies
Not natural? No never!
Wicked grins, warm weather;
I give up gloves gleefully ,
Scarves ,snow, seasonal
Wouldn't want it any other way;
Better ,basking , baking,
Sunglasses, slightly sun-kissed
Warm Winter Holidays
Copyright © Melani Udaeta
Winters' wandering within
wicked waves of worsening weather.
Wildly whipping winds
whistling through windchimes
Women wrapped in wreaths
of wool or, if rich,
cashmere coated against
the avalanche of chill
around corners marching,
counting with a
to ensure a regimen
regardless of winters' waft.
Snow softly swirling
through the thermal drafts
not ready to land yet.
Not really stuck ...
Copyright © Sue Mason