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Snow Christmas Poems | Christmas Poems About Snow

These Snow Christmas poems are examples of Christmas poems about Snow. These are the best examples of Snow Christmas poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Epic |

One Winter's Night

I stood on the balcony one night,
The land was bathed in luminous light,
The air was filled with winter's chill,
Frost had covered the window sill.

I stared into the sky above,
My heart had swelled full of love,
The galaxy glowed with bright stars,
Lights so heavenly, from afar.

The night shone bright on every hill,
Yet, everything was quiet and still,
Through the valley no wind did blow,
The little village blanketed in snow.

What joy the Yule is going to bring,
At the break of dawn, the town will sing,
Making this, one eve to remember,
On one magical night of December.

But, in this fantasy land it is late,
And this seasonable panorama is great,
I want to take this long walk alone,
Through unchanging scenery, I wander from home.

I'll take a candle to light my way,
Upon the ice, I could walk until day,
I made it up a deep, glittering bank,
In the glistening snowflakes, my feet sank.

A million diamonds now covered the land,
I pulled my mittens on, over my hands,
The snow could never melt in this cold,
The Northern degrees of stories once told.

I will enjoy the winter as in days of old,
The still photographs of the past unfold,
A thermometer shows the drop of degrees,
The thaw of the snow I hope not to see.

Mirrored is my reflection along the river,
Quartz crystals of ice, makes me shiver,
Icicles hang from a cabin, near the woods,
Silently, wolves and elk in the forest, stood.

Reindeer and rabbits run through the snow,
A memorable sight in the lovely moon's glow,
An owl calls out from high in a tree,
Imagine all this, as a keepsake to see.

Tomorrow the snow will make the children sing,
To the hills, a toboggan they will bring,
Soon, we will hear his sleigh bells ring,
And, all the Christmas bells will be jingling!



Written by : Kelly Deschler
For Leonora Galinta's contest - Christmas Epic


Details | Free verse |

Snow

Snow sprinkles the ground
 
as delicate as sugar
 
crystallizing the exterior with a romantic heritage
 
only found in the heart of a child's imagination.
 
Like happiness it can melt in your hands,
 
and like happiness it can grow bitter like the ice you slip on
 
Forming miraculously to the curves of the earth
 
hugging till the land soaks in it's providence
 
white like the pages I battle with
 
Falling so passionately you'd think it was falling in love with the ground
 
And when it lands,
 
A blanket of perfection
 
glistening the season to a crisp
 
gently the sun arises
 
"there's no where to go today,
 
I'm just going to sit and enjoy the magic."


Details | Romanticism |

His Beauty Revealed on Christmas Day

As the snow falls around me, I marvel at God’s wholesome and worthy entity. The Lord, on his special day, has given me a gift so precious and special; He has opened my eyes to his wondrous glory. The Lord above all has allowed me to see the beauty in the smallest of things: The stars and moon at night, and the clouds and sun by day; The little trickles of freezing cold, yet clean, fresh, clear water Running down the mountainsides, quenching my insatiable thirst; The trees in all their grandeur, That provide my warmth when I gather their branches; The leaves and pine needles at my feet, Providing soft beds for me and all the forest creatures. Best of all of these, however, is the snow. The beautiful snow in which no two snowflakes are the same. The same biting cold, yet strangely comforting and fulfilling snow, In which brings forth light on the darkest of days. I must thank the all-loving God, who has bestowed upon me this glorious gift. Me, a pathetic excuse for a soldier who has run away From the sight of bloodshed because I cannot stand to fight another friend. Me, a coward who is now running from the law, And living solely in the forest for fear of being caught and hanged. Me, a God-believing man who has sinned greatly. But I have repented. I have asked God for forgiveness of my sins on Christmas Eve night, And He has replied by giving me snow on Christmas morning, showing me that I am not alone, and that I should not be afraid. And, by His grace, when all I have been seeing was darkness and despair, He opened me up to allow me to see the beauty and light in all his creation. “I praise You, oh glorious God, for giving me this most wonderful gift! I thank You for forgiving me, a sinner, of all my wrongdoings, and for giving me this awe-inspiring gift, for which I have done nothing to deserve! I exalt you on high, oh Lord, for all that you have done and given me, and will do for me and give me! I will love and praise you always! Amen.”


Details | Free verse |

The Song of the Christmas Snow

There is nothing with so much life as a Christmas snow
The crisp air is still as little dancing stars float to the earth
Strong old trees become burdened with drifts of white upon their bows
But seem honored to be dressed in such finery and appear almost to move
In fact, everything has come to life to watch the snowfall.
Then everything is quiet
There is a whisper in the air
It ripples through the trees
See the birds, they are the first to recognize the whisper
As the Masters of Chorus, the birds know it is a song
They sit as true musicians memorizing the lyrics and rhythm
So, the snow speaks, the voice is old, like it has sung this song many times
As the squirrels could tell you this is a lullaby, and they begin to search from their 
perches in the trees for the newborn
And life and love has never felt as strong as now
A horse in its pastures stomps his foot disturbed
Though he hears the song the birds do and the lullaby the squirrels hear, he, 
along with all of the worlds creatures, could swear he just heard a cry
The squirrels chatter with laughter, knowing they where right and the birds take 
up the snow-song to welcome the child they heard cry
And then they stop and the world is silent
The snow has stopped falling
The cry was only a memory from Christmas long past
The child, a child of time whose
 Voice comes with the Christmas snows,
To give every soul the chance to hear
The song of joy and love and beginning,
So it is never forgotten;
The song of the Christmas Snow




Details | Free verse |

Bah, Humbug

Ah, the glorious damned winter
and the inviting  
gray chill in the air.
I meander 
ever 
so
slowly 
past lawns
strewn 
with a cluttered array
of pagan snow zombies -
staring blankly,
as I obliterate pint-sized
snow angels 
failing to don halos
that could have easily been
brush stroked with 
da Vinci's golden teardrops.

(Impoverished attention-getters)

"I suggest you peruse Alighieri’s 'Inferno' –
it may, at least, promote heat - if not hope!"

(Simpletons)

Frost continues to cloud my spectacles -
thick and relentless
eagerly permeating the glass -
endeavoring to dance
a feverish Fantasia foxtrot
upon the skins of my pupils.

My heavy feet scuffle
past these endearing peasants.
Bleak…frozen…
forgotten Mt. Everest tombstones.
Disgraced outcasts of embarrassment -
smashed against a stark white canvas
hands cut off –

sticking out their parched tongues
begging for alms.
Click and count.

Their fragile bodies so much alive
their dark, hallowed eyes 
so 
much 
dead.

(So be it)

They stealthily huddle alone -
(Hah! I’ve created my own personal oxymoron!)

These gruesome street urchin waifs -
Dumber than a sackful of hammers and
frostier than a Maine Christmas morn,
convulsing and shivering ‘neath lampposts
without snow shoes or socks,

bawling and boo-hooing...
“Clutching weather-worn copies
of James Hilton’s 'Lost Horizon'
and littering the virgin snow
with salty saline discharge –
igniting street corner bonfires
without the faintest hint of smoke."

(Wasteful)

Ah, the glorious damned winter
and that magnificent gray chill in the air.
My arctic thighs carry me home now
where I am safe.
Where I can slam my door
and shut my eyes.

My cavernous domicile
whereas I can privately converse
with Mr. Dickens and Mr. O’Neill
and read “A Christmas Carol”
or “The Iceman Cometh” -
without a snaggle-toothed interruption...
Listen to the haunting strains of L’Inverno
from Vivaldi’s “Le Quattro Staggioni”
and cackle wildly as I burn first editions
of Clement Clark Moore’s
most infamous penning -

pour myself a 
tall glass of ice cubes -
devour a heaping bowl
of vichyssoise -

scarf down a fudgcicle
and just...

turn the air conditioner

ON.


Details | Narrative |

Teaching an Old Dog

All I remember is going into the garage to get the snow shovel.
 
I am not even sure how much of the driveway I managed to shovel.  Apparently, I was lying in the snow for several hours before one of the neighbors noticed me.

The next thing I remember is waking up from a deep sleep to the sounds of beeping machines with tubes and wires stuck into and on my body.

As I slowly regained consciousness and my eyes were able to focus, I was aware of a young, bald child looking down on me.

“Hi,” said the smiling, angelic face.  Given the child’s age and complete baldness, I could not tell whether they were a boy or a girl.  And, with the tube inserted in my throat and taped to my mouth, I was in no position to return their salutation.

I tried to remember who this child might be and why they were here with me.  I guess my eyes displayed my confusion as the child said, “I'm Elizabeth.  They let me walk around the hospital a little.  Sometimes I sneak out of the oncology wing and look for people who have no visitors.  I like to make sure someone is there when they wake up.  I know I always like to see someone when I wake up from my operations.”

She just stood above me smiling.  I then noticed she was holding my hand.

“Sometimes it is hard for family members or friends to come visit.  Some people just really don’t like hospitals.  And, I guess”, she said, “not everybody has someone that close to them.  So, I like to become their visitor for them.  I hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t mind.  Although it did make me embarrassed to realize that I fit in the latter category; I didn’t have anybody that close to me.

She just smiled at me and petted my hand as the medications worked their magic on me and I started to drift back off to sleep.  I heard a nurse come into the room and say, “There you are, Honey.  You need to get back to your room now and leave this nice man be.”

The next time I regained consciousness, I noticed a hand drawn picture of a house with a Christmas tree out front with a note that said, “I hope you get home before Christmas” and was signed by Elizabeth.

Each new day, I was welcomed by another drawing of Christmas scenes; smiling faces; reindeer; and, starry skies.  All containing a happy note and all signed, ”Love, Elizabeth”.

After ten days of recovery and following the insertion of two stents into my heart, I was well enough to return to my empty home.  On my way out of the hospital, I stopped by the Oncology Wing to say good-bye and thank you to Elizabeth.  When I asked the nurse at the floor station where I could find Elizabeth, she replied, “Oh I'm sorry, Elizabeth is no longer with us.”

I then said, “Well can you tell me her home address or phone number, I would really like to thank her for visiting me in my hospital room this past week.”

The look on the nurse’s face indicated that I misunderstood what she had meant.  Elizabeth was no longer with us.

Sadly, I started walking towards the exit.

Just before I got to the elevator, I noticed an open door with a man lying on his bed, with tubes in his nose and throat and nobody else in the room with him.  I went into his room and sat in the empty chair.

When he opened his eyes two hours later, I said, “Hi, I'm Joe.  I noticed there was nobody here when you were brought back from your operation and I know how nice it is to see a smiling face when you wake up, so I thought I would sit here with you for a while.  I hope you don’t mind.”

He squeezed my hand; gave a slight smile; and, slowly drifted off back to sleep.


Details | Personification |

My Bipolar Winter

Oh, make up your mind my schizophrenic love Unpredictable are your ways I can’t stand your waxing and waning Are you trying to drive me away? Drifting from a gentle snow shower to a hurricane Why can’t you be predictable like the golden days of summer? Or serene like a fine autumn morn’s mist? No more cold shoulders… I want a dusting of snow on Christmas eve And a plush velvet blanket for Christmas morn No more highs and lows where anything goes Just be bold and romantic You’re so easily distracted-you’re hyperactive I don’t want a wishy washy winter wonderland Don’t make me go talk to Mother Nature Even the weather man is scratching his head! By Gwendolen Rix Written for Nette's Contest~Personifying January~ & Deb's Contest~Something Different~ 4th place 1-2-11 nota bene-Ohio winters are notorious for labile weather.


Details | Quatrain |

My Memories Of Christmas

Hearing the jingling bells of Santa's sleigh,
Hanging silver tinsel on the tree for trim,
My cousin and I going sledding all day,
Reading the story of Scrooge and Tiny Tim.

Building a house made of spicy gingerbread,
And hearing a Bing Crosby Christmas tune,
Leaving out cookies before going to bed,
Seeing eight tiny reindeer flying by the moon.

Santa Claus bringing toys down our chimney,
Almost every house twinkling with lights,
Cutting down a fresh, pine Christmas tree,
Hanging antique ornaments, so shiny and bright.

Grandma and I baking my favorite cookies,
Shopping for Christmas gifts in every store,
A fireplace with a stocking hung just for me,
And singing Christmas carols at every door.

My hometown covered in glistening, white snow,
And the sweet, minty taste of a candy cane,
Presents containing treasures we wouldn't know,
And drawing snowflakes on a frosty window pane.

My Mom making a snowman, as perfect as can be,
Decking the halls with garlands, wreaths and more,
Whispering wishes to Santa, sitting on his knee,
And the excitement we all had the night before.





December 12th, 2013


Details | Rhyme |

My Snowman Adventure

I was nine, I saw from my window The snow was coming down Little crystal snowflakes Barely kissed the ground Outside Mr Snowman was waiting For all the girls and boys To whisk them away on a merry ride To the land of toys I remember flying through the air Looking down upon the town For some reason I can’t recall I was in my dressing gown The land of toys was a magical place Santa was there too Picking out toys for all the children There was I recall quite a queue All the toys in Toyland Where vibrant and alive Santa was in a bit of a hurry He had to be home by five Santa gave me a toy soldier That was alive while I was there Though back home was just a plastic toy Which I thought a little unfair Home, the snow was still falling From an overcast slate grey sky I admit I had a lump in my throat As I bid Mr Snowman goodbye I have tried to re-create that moment Many times, alas all in vain It was a once in a lifetime experience I never saw Mr Snowman again But what magical memories They really did happen to me And yes, I am quite well aware Something similar was shown on T.V.


Details | Verse |

SUMMER, WINTER SOLSTICE - 2010

It was a visit long overdue by most people’s standards. I had last seen my daughter two years prior to that during a whirlwind trip which she and her fiancé had made to Cape Town. I had an unexpected financial windfall and the money was burning a hole in my pocket. On the spur of the moment, I called my daughter and asked her to source accommodation for me in London over the Christmas season. A few days later, she called me back with the news that all the hotels had been booked up, save for the Ritz. I chuckled at the idea of having to spend my entire holiday budget on just one night at the Ritz. Then reason asserted itself and we put our heads together to come up with an alternative solution. I could hear her flatmate in the background, chipping in with her penny’s worth of advice. My daughter hung up and I was feeling down in the mouth about the plans for the trip being derailed in such a fashion. Later that evening, my daughter called back with the offer that if I did not object to sleeping on the settee in the lounge, I would be most welcome to stay with them at their London flat. I gladly accepted. She is a chef at a top restaurant and I was looking forward to gourmet meals prepared by her - including the Christmas turkey.

screeching seagulls dive at sushi scraps on a plate - the urchin watches
The evening of the booked flight to London, arrived. It was an uncomfortable hot day and I showered and dressed with only minutes to spare before my friend took me to the airport to book in the statuary two hours before international flight departures. At the airport everything was in chaos. We were given the unwelcome news that our flight had been cancelled. This was the third direct flight to London which had been cancelled that week due to London experiencing the worst weather and snow since records began in 1890! We were offered alternative flights and had to stand in queues for hours in order to procure a new airline ticket. Some people became very verbose and insisted on being granted passage on other airline carriers (at the cost of our local airline carrier). I do not know whether it was due to the weather or the disappointment I was feeling, but when my turn came at last to book a new flight, I readily agreed to fly on Christmas Eve ( three days hence) to London. If I had been given time to reflect on this date, I would not have accepted it. Arriving in London on Christmas Day would have been disastrous: The tubes and other public transport would have been curtailed on Christmas Day and shops and other amenities would have been closed for the day. This I knew from previous trips to the UK over the festive season. To add insult to injury, taxis would have charged triple for cab fare and no amount of quibbling would have swayed them. I phoned my friend to collect me and when we got home, I poured a large glass of Merlot and retired on the sun lounger in the garden. It was *full moon that evening and it was almost worth missing the trip to witness its beauty. I left my bags in the hallway and retired early – after phoning my daughter and giving her an update on the status quo.
moths dart between moon flowers - lunar eclipse
Six am the following morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing. Sleepily I took the call. It was the airline inquiring whether I could get to the airport by seven am. My friend was dancing up and down in agitation and already had the car out by the time I had brushed my teeth. I offered to pay any speeding fines which she might incur during our mad dash to get to the airport on time. The flight was an additional service which was laid on to get the backlog of passengers to their desired destinations. Heathrow had given our pilots permission to proceed, hence the call to me that morning. We were a total of thirty six passengers on the Boeing 747 – it translated to two passengers per crew member. We were treated to five in flight movies which were current and could eat and drink as much as we wished to. By the time we landed in London at seven pm that evening, there was a festive spirit among us. A radio taxi (which my daughter had organised) was waiting to collect me at Heathrow airport. It was a chilly four degrees Celsius below zero and I was grateful for my leather coat and wool accessories.
steep steps to flat shut out the bitter world - a heart pounds
**************************************************************** *The December 2010 lunar eclipse occurred from 5:27 to 11:06 UTC on December 21, coinciding with the date of the December solstice. It was visible in its entirety as a total lunar eclipse in North and South America, Iceland, Ireland, Britain and northern Scandinavia. "bitter" means piercingly cold..... A term commonly used by Britishers... "flat" means apartment. The Londoners I know, refer to it as just "flat" with no adj or possessive noun or article. Please see the About section for explanations regarding the 1ST AND LAST haiku. Haibun(literally, haikai writings) is a prosi-metric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes the autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. ~ Wikipedia


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