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Death Winter Poems | Death Poems About Winter

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

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Details | Free verse | |

STILL WINTER

Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 


Details | Ballad | |

The Stone

The Tale below was carved one night,
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



.                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone 
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were bright, her face was pale
.........her eyes were bright, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



.                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream
One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...a Ship was stripped where winter stormed
.........a Ship was stripped where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the sea entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the sea entombed

Your James... denied by Davy Jones!
His spirit gone, his flesh and bones
...are resting now amongst the Stones
.........are resting now amongst the Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades and dreams in darkness groan 
.........where shades and dreams in darkness groan 

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew –
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou   
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold –
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
There sang a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint and feeling frail
.........which left me faint and feeling frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“I miss you too, my darling Beth”
Re-echoed from the Ship of Death
...the future buried in a breath
.........the future buried in a breath
	
The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, the wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death lay moored
...beneath, the icy ocean roared
.........beneath, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



.                         Epilogue

That night the wayward winds were weird 
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



.                         Epitaph

Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps



inspired by ~fc~

DEFINITIONS
Wight (obsolete): a supernatural being, creature
Bight: a bay or gulf
Swale: a moist depression in a tract of land


Details | Quatrain | |

October Brings No Rest For These

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.


Details | Free verse | |

The Task

The old screen door still welcomes me
    .. a familiar face, just as before
but after this...who'll pass this way?….
Will they use the rug and wipe their shoes?...
Swipe away the grime and mud?
 .....Or will they even care?

I feel my pulse and lungs collide
I take a breath...and step inside

She lived alone, the last to go....
one amber dawn when skies were clear
silently, without fanfare....
death wafted through these hard wood floors
and took more than a glimpse of her

I've been asked to sell the house,
to clear it out, and set it right…
                                                                            
Somehow, seems wrong…. 
a trespass on the throne of  life
that was softly lived
behind the gate, where thirsty roses bloom, and wait…

I hesitate….
to disturb the lace on drop leaf tables…
disgrace the quiet of the gloom
open drawers, snoop and sort, ….a pruning, 
of the good, the used, from worn and torn

My hands are able, but my heart declines..
what isn’t mine, to toss, to find, to mark, and label…

I hear the echoes, in each room…
along with swishings of my broom…
and the dust motes in the window light
like glitter in the afternoon…
reminders of old sparks ingnited
where cozy logs had offered light
keeping her last nights warm..…

The whirling sound of winds outside… 
whispered breaths of weaving looms
the treadled sounds of sewing hems..
peddled feet, and bustling, rustling
and those of clattering pans and potting blooms…

There are questions I want to ask
tho’ I can’t recall just what they were
no matter now….with no one here
I must be focused….on my task…
it must be done…

And now, …as doors of dark begins
I see, somehow, that fate moved in….
I am glad that I, with my two hands…
have witnessed with a smile, unplanned,
A life once new, until the end

I hold it all, and always will
her life, I held in loving hands

I stand here in the halls of night
content, I'll leave without regret
companioned by a day well spent…

                    I've been within …her company
     


..............................................................................................................................


Details | Quatrain | |

The Dead Of Winter

Here under the cold winter sun,
Beneath the old, lifeless tree,
My winter mourning has begun,
When no one comes to visit me.

Left out here on the edge of town,
Underneath the gray and gloomy sky,
In a lonely cemetery, with not a soul around,
Where every lone wintertime, I cry.

As I lay here, frozen and numb,
Crystal snowflakes are falling down,
The dead of winter has finally come,
Like icy teardrops upon the ground.

The wind howls like a lonely, lost spirit,
Through grass overgrown this December,
And it still hurts me to hear it,
That nobody even came here to remember.

Icicles have formed on the iron gate,
And the days now become dark so soon,
Forever sealing in my forgotten fate,
My only friend is the bright, shining moon.

And so I'll just lie here all alone,
No one will come until the spring,
And while you are staying, warm at home,
No one has left me flowers or anything.


Details | Rhyme | |

Trumpet Call

My heart is the same full of love
     My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
      The hair of gray and wrinkles reign

I set the table full of food
        For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
       When changes prepare for winter

I'm not sure I'll know winter now
        For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
        Where beauty glows bright from the depths

Producing leaves of many hues
       Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
        I think that when winter comes cold

Plants freeze if left out in weather
      They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
       There's time to prepare room somehow

I still watch the birds from window
       They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
        Soon most will be gone for winter

Winter soon will approach with cold
       Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
       There are few thoughts of approaching winter

But when winter comes my way
        The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
         On another day I'll be called by trumpet away


Details | Verse | |

Chilled Dawn

She is shadowed by fuzzy cobwebs of a morning without coffee,
while dust motes mingle with the mold of time.
Gazing out to the yard, through dingy glass, and fog, 
into a dismal January, she hopes to catch a glimpse of the paper boy.
He travels through rain, sleet or snow, how could he understand, 
(this teen-aged Paul Revere), that in this decrepit old house, 
she is longing for a sign of youth? It has been a weary night, watching an old woman hang on by threads of life, that had worn thin years ago. 
Watching and waiting, while cold winds blew and snow was falling,  
and death was hoping to make a house call.
Any diversion, life being lived,... one brief eclipse of life in motion would be a relief.
To observe him toss the news into the sky like a Frisbee... not a care in the world
How would that feel...has she ever known? Has anyone ever been so young?
She thinks she may go mad with death and dying, with weariness, with waiting.
She suddenly shivers from a dreaded draft of frigid air, slithering in,
like a sneaky, uninvited ghost, slinking in around the rim. 

       nor'easter winds                                                roll top shoe box...
      splinter the silence..               --                     debutante' caught in amber
        a cataract view                                                   frozen sepia  

Grabbing a handful of a thread-bare doily,  she polishes the cold glass, 
rubbing vigorously in circles against the grime, 
making figure eights, in spite of frozen, stiff, fingers.  
Satisfied, that she has a decent view of the blanketed yard,
and can see clearly where the muddy, gravel driveway,
bends gradually, curving to mate with the snow banked road,
at last, she spies the old Jeep coming, and watches with automated eyes, 
yet, with some expectation, and strange excitement. 
Then, as she might have guessed,
the teenager drives hurriedly by, barely slowing down, tossing the news,
and leaving her gaze and her thoughts, splattered by dark murky water, 
while the slinging gravel that has been pitched into the sky, by his screeching tires,
falls like the pieces of the old woman's lonely life upon the pristine snow. 




__________________________________________
For Deb's Contest: "Mix It Up"


Details | Elegy | |

Passing

To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice

The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content 
With the debauched path she hath went.

Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon

I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu

You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed

She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat

Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse

But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Ice King

Ice King

The blade is frozen - feels like ice,
arcane the skies of winter's war,
'the Valkyries' bold entice
today to fight alongside Thor.

This great of days is best to die,
the snow, white shroud, persists around
to slowly muffle his war cry,
on skyward Kingdom he'll be crowned.

© G. V. 07-27-2013
(Iambic tetrameter)


Details | I do not know? | |

Fire

Fire
Instance of combustion
Fuel
Ignited
Oxygen
Light, Heat, Flame
A burning mass
As on a hearth
Destructive conflagration
Heat
Greek fire



©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy for Neil

Our great Balboa has left the hillock bare
And two waters converge in evening mist
Where from our vision he made us stare
As the divided dimensions rose and kiss
So sleep the sailor, so sleep the caravel
So sleep great Balboa, toll, toll your knell. 
              A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
              Winter is for children play, and for hubris.

The navy man has taken his golden wings
On glinted them against the silvery dusk
The eagle rising fro the earth sweetly sings
On dust-rock horizon where triumphs husk
The veil that cover human tears and fears
With tragedy that all mass and matter wears
              A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
              Winter is for children play, and for hubris.

So Balboa, remember your craft on one engine
The sound barrier rescinded, brings you to earth
The grave has no remembering, O the final spin
That undo all dream of birth! fair Deist now inert
Shall only watching moon alert us of this memory
The great walk that expanded the edge of history?              
               A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
               Winter is for children play, and for hubris.

Conquistador of the modern world, great sailor
What tribes did you subjugate beyond Korea, tell
What corn you planted, what gold in your valor,
What new dominions now your great spirit swell?
I hear Darien laughing in the silence of the moon
I see the caparisoned horse, and the taps balloon 
                 A sprig of spring is all autumn's promise
                 Winter is for children play, and fo hubris

They come, they come, stolid mourners slowly
The riderless horse ignorant you are gone, gone
Forever, grief bowed us, and pride lingers greatly
Thanking you for gyral cycle of an ambitious dawn.
But Balboa do you hear them, can you see tears
Can you reverse the plunder of the vernal years?
                A sprig of spring is all autumn's surprise
                Winter is for children play, and for hubris


Details | Rhyme | |

A Woeful Winter Dirge

Comes winter with its icy blast 
Across the land thy death shadow cast
Life purged by thy soulless wind 
With thy sting of death thou doest offend
Thy snowy shroud upon January’s cold ground lain
Bitter tears of crystal ice now rain
Naked branches broken and battered in sorrow doth wail 
amid thy northern gales. 
Woeful Winter Dirge!   
May the southern breeze push back thy artic surge
O Scourge of the seasons release your icy grasp 
May the sun shine at last!



 


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 | Free verse | |

If I Shall Grow Old 2K13

If these eyes shall become blinded, and if this
hair shall come to be combed thinly and grey;
No, it would not be the end of the world.
I would still see beauty therein this world through
the songs of Crickets and Feathered Songsters.
The breeze would yet whisper and trees still dance.
I would yet smell the freshly bloom of Spring.
I'd still endure Summer's sweltering heat.
I'd yet feel Autumn's leaves crunch 'neath these toes.
I'd still long to be fireside with Winter.
Disabled or not, perhaps I'd yet walk
therein wonderful imagination.
How I'd be forever young at heart!
Then just as one journey came to an end,
I'd indeed greet another with a smile.


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 | Lyric | |

In My Dreams

In my dreams

I’m still in my dreams
Walking along the streams
The way looks so dangerous
Its stories were so famous
But I’m still in my dreams

I don’t know where I’m going
Just know going to be ruined
I have not control on my mind
Summer is not so fine
But I’m still in my dreams

I saw a shadow looks terrible
Structure is not so visible
I make my steps towards shadow
My feet going to be swallow
But I’m still in my dreams



Weather becomes cool
Shadow is making me fool
I am a little afraid
I think my life has been paid
But I’m still in my dreams

I see a dead body
Where was nobody
This I’m not ready to face
I have to get out of this place
But I’m still in my dreams


By: Allishba Khalid


Details | Kimo | |

The Little Match Girl



by her burnt matches on a snowy nook
face aglow on New Year morn
lies the frozen blessed child




*Inspired from the touching story of "The Little Match Girl"


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 | Ottava rima | |

The Fire Glows

Before the fog, when music rang
The house was warm; their love abide.
Sweet children to good parents sang.
While standing safely by their side,
The fire glowed and music rang.
Protecting strong from dark outside.
The cherubs watched until the tomb.
When orphans life took flight to doom.

Their mother’s harp made magic sounds,
Like angels dancing on the wind –
The little ones to fear were bound.
What fate for orphans would transcend?
The streets were cold; no warmth was found.
Two broken spirits hope would mend.
There perfect virtue white as snow.
Abyss of darkness let love flow.

An icy sidewalk cold and bleak,
Two children stood with freezing feet.
A night of refuge they must seek.
Too soon, the sun finds its retreat.
Where, strangers walked; sisters were meek.
How loudly those young hearts did beat.
Then, came the angel, golden hair.
The guardian took them to his lair.

Copyright January 14, 2014
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Meme er Contest: Let It Snow- 12 Paintings of Winter Free Sponsor	Isaiah Zerbst
Inspiration from Philip Calderon’s painting, The Orphans


Details | Sonnet | |

Hope Of Renewal

As the last rose petal falls swiftly down
The last of the great roses of summer
What a great summer that was lived_you known
Rose had much character an affirmer

Fall approaches with sure desolation
Only bare branches with prickly thorns left
Mocking Bird nest with nesting cessation
Protected by the Rose as in a  cleft

Used up_bare waiting for winter's cold breath
Not knowing what this winter chill will bring
As the petals flood onto the ground_death
Hope awaits but winter comes with its sting

Will the sap rise again coursing through vine
Revitalization __ one  bud sure sign


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 | Rhyme | |

Devil's Cocaine

        make no mistake
snow flakes are not angel
lace
or the tapestry of miracles
they're devil 
blades
drifting to earth..
to 
set the metal in the mind 
to 
spinning
turn life into
a pair of pit viper eyes
slide you into the grave 
before you've made peace 
with your maker?
       snow flakes are white leeches 
bloody lips anchored to shovel and spade-
twisting ancient backs 
into candy
canes
rip the heart from its throbbing  
cage...
daggers of misery 
hanging like devil snot
from christmas trees
freezing little fingertips
churning eyes to charcoal
turning ponds to  blue ice crypts
       at night when all is asleep
they dance-chant in a swirl
white witches
hiding their black ice sins
knitting snow white caps  
to warm your tombstone...
snow flakes - the devils cocaine.


Details | Narrative | |

Frozen Golden Hair

His smile was as warm as the summer sun.
But his cold-cold heart chilled the soul.
Debonair, golden hair, he often had to run!
Those notches scratched in his paltry pelt,
Lay evidence of his lusty embrace.
He was a hit and run, son-of-a-gun.
Many young women, 
Slapped without a trace.  
A new fair maiden fell for his heat.
He ripped virtue out, with a lusty hold.
Surprised at the end, not even a friend.
Her heart suffered.
The serpent’s sting –
All alone in the winters freeze,
Seething, in woman’s scorn.
- Loved and left without concern -
She had esteemed him, true.
What to do?
The answer soon was clear.
Death paid the toll in the winter cold.
Her sorrow would forebear. 
Debonair, golden hair, 
He no longer had to run!
Her smile was as frigid as the winter’s freeze.
And his cold-cold heart lay icy, still.
Death caught this man who left with fast feet
No more notches would he carve in his strap!
She grinned as she patted his manly pelt.
That winter of his frozen golden hair –

© February 13, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen


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 | Haiku | |

Play with doves

After long day`s play
with doves ,they fly in the light
Let`s rest in the love


Details | Couplet | |

Darkness Sleeps

Single file in a row
bare feet freezing in the snow
in a pile, bodies burn
all wait fearfully for their turn
ash and smoke clog the air
ringing with screams of despair
moving closer to their end
their minds begin to slowly bend
the snow is stained with crimson red
drinking in the blood they've shed
in the trees, starved ravens wait
to feed on those who've met their fate
more bodies burn, the bells tolls on
the moon reveals a scarlet dawn
as all the corpses burn in heaps
just for now, the darkness sleeps

By Morgan Mise
Written December 3, 2012


Details | Sonnet | |

For the Late Midsummer

Show me a clear midsummer’s day, and I
Shall reveal the coldness lurking beneath
For which the mortals heave a knowing sigh
In kind, the winter bares her savage teeth


Yet we, who know better than to implore
Play games with Time that are cruelly coy
Always to have less than ever before
And thus is the fickle manner of joy


To depart tenfold as quick as it came
Seeking first the ones who try to hold fast 
For all who dare speak that elusive name
Breathe tender eulogies of summers past


Fear not, for the blush of this earth entombed
Shall run our blood until we are exhumed


Details | Free verse | |

Darkness

night’s realm lays in great forests dark and deep
strong tall trees stand in brooding stolid indifference
barren twisted limbs reach deeply into clear black sky
grasping fruitlessly full moon’s piercing cold white beams 
casting grey sinister shadows upon hard frozen ground
abandoned to gambol in impulsive provocative dance
incited by wickedly fierce courses of rasping winter wind 
playing gloomy melodies arranged on creeper and grass
sirens of maddening woe and bleak foreboding wax ghostly
coaxing him gently toward endless abysmal melancholy
forming narrow furrows of age and grief upon his face
staring soulless brooding eyes’ in empty earthward focus 
study insignificant gleaming steel grey stone monuments 
chiseled upon with names of father mother sister passed
wasting his life imprisoned in unending anguish and sorrow
questions an omnipotent power’s righteous grand design
answered by luminescent cloud cloaked spokes of moonlight 
waning lunar light beams dim to impenetrable gloom
beckoning harsh winter chill nearer heart and soul
callused extinct of warm compassion joy understanding
contradicted by falling swollen flakes of soft snow
piling noticeably in great white frigid heaps 
ending as forgotten footprints belie an eastward trek


Details | Haiku | |

Graffity

Immortality,
youth`s luminous graffiti,
drawn on winter`s wall.


Details | Verse | |

Revelation Act 4 - Scene 3-Final Prelude

____ I have flown as free as the waves of eternal thunder Sure as a flower pleading to the winter freeze I have gone before death should come Now as still as a frozen lake draping her winter coat a scintilla of eternity has shown me love In stillness, falling from mountain heights, a peaceful sonetto births fragmented light and..... I am gone I am gone I am gone ____


Details | Kimo | |

THE VAGABOND'S CRY

Colder and lonelier than a bare tree
lashed by the February's wind,
the vagabond cries out.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Snow

Snow burdened the weary leaves,
Drooping in view of the shivered fence.
There I sat blushing my knuckles,
Uncertain of movement around this chair.

I remember the etching stone,
With silent squeaks,
That circled my brain.
Grievingly aware of departing clouds.

There I sat with no muscle,
To find with sight a consuming abyss.
Littered with glinting, white eyes;
Like a madness scatters nails.

And then dark oversee,
Dark, blackest light
Spat out my eyes...

Burn an old barrel.

Snow burdened these weary leaves,
And I surveyed the depth of the fence.
For now I may hang out my hands,
Sitting alone on this frozen park bench.


Details | Haiku | |

Mourn For Me

trees mourn my passing
warm caress now frigid grip
leaves shed in sorrow


Details | Light Poetry | |

A Silent Wave

A silent wave rushing inside my heart

Your hand leading me so far we won't depart

Your voice I heard in away that's taking me far

Into a silent wave rushing inside my heart.


Oh the thrill it was to hear

your voice so silent as I opened up to you

so wonderful this silent wave rushing inside my heart


I was searching for a answer to a question for so long

there it was a silent wave rushing inside my heart


Your voice Lord, in ways I never found

a silent whisper so very loud

inside my heart the silent wave replied

to me your love is so divine..


So when the shattered dreams are filling your mind

please please listen to the silent wave rushing inside your heart.


Written by:©Betty Bolden


Details | Free verse | |

To Where a Snowflake dies

A war in heaven reluctantly concedes
To the lullaby's in the night singing softly
Covering us in heavenly whisper blows
As feathers falling light so intense and gracefully 
Escaping God's whitened watery coves

And somewhere up above
I believe there are angels also grooming
Thus, for the twilight showing, shedding as they rush
The world as such, always in a hurry
But, for an instance and out of nowhere
An avalanche of marvel captivates the hush

And in my distant mind I most certainly can relate
As to the stars and ancient sands of grain
My tongue tasting these miracles of wonder
Reaching further to acquiesce
In greetings, to miniature designs
Crafted out of God's very hands of great

While, celestial bodies move
Constant shadows consume
Around assumptions of the human mind 
Thus, begins the dusk and ends 
To the place where a snowflake dies

Look around
Who is it that seems to care
Or thinks to ponder the manual labor input here
With hammers, chisels, nuts and bolts
Never to witness to a mere mistake
Or upon discovery any kind of error

Yet, I listen… to the silence…
Extracting all its pleasure
Before, another million frigid seedlings ashen
Met with daunting fate
And in the still of tranquil
Neither snowflake cries out or offers up complaints

For a day
Or merely several nights evermore
A complex purpose
Or to thus, a simpler existence
Then, I pause...
Unto supposition, as I meditate the message

Guesses drift off, into what's last unknown
Of the never ending knowing
Embracing their provident life
Watch as they embrace each other closer
In a bank of ice, waiting for the melting




Details | Free verse | |

Fate

Winter never surrenders,
It ploughs through the soul
And freezes the people.
For all time its fierce fangs
Inject bitter venom 
Into its victims.
Some fall prey of a sudden
Trapped beneath the surface 
Of the ice. Others fall asleep,
Unable to fight any longer.
Still some brave the bite 
For the sake of others
In order to help them
Safely return to spring.
Spring endures, 
But winter conquers, 
Such is life they say, 
Though they wish
It differently.


Details | Verse | |

To Where a Snowflake Dies

A war in heaven reluctantly concedes
To the lullabies in the night singing softly
Covering us in heavenly whisper blows
As feathers falling light so grace intensely  
Escaping God's whitened watery coves

And somewhere up above
I believe there are angels also grooming
Thus, for the twilight showing, shedding as they rush
The world as such, always in a hurry
But, for an instance out of nowhere
An avalanche of marvel captivates the hush

And in my distant mind I most certainly can relate
As to the stars and ancient sands of grain
My tongue tasting these miracles of wonder
Reaching further to acquiesce
In greetings, to miniature designs
Crafted out of God's very hands of great

While, celestial bodies move
Constant shadows consume
Around assumptions of the human mind 
Thus, begins the dusk and ends 
To the place where a snowflake dies

Look around...
Who is it that seems to care
Or thinks to ponder the manual labor input here
With hammers, chisels, nuts and bolts
Never a witness to a mere mistake
Or upon discovery of any kind of erring

Yet, I listen… to the silence…
Extracting all its pleasure
Before, another million frigid seedlings dare
Met with daunting fate
And in the still of tranquil
Neither snowflake cries out or offers up complaints

For a day
Or merely several nights evermore
A complex purpose
Or unto thus, a simpler more existence
Then, I pause... unto supposition
As I meditate the atmoshere of message

Guesses drift off, into what's last unknown
Of the never ending knowing
Embracing their provident life
Watch as they rely on each other ever closer
In a bank of ice, waiting for the melting


Details | Rhyme | |

cycles of love

my mark is fresh like snow in air
brisk and mist will crisp on hair
fists ball up from risk to care
whisper and stare but all is fair
love and reason, flow like seasons
the endings blending and quite seeming
parts of hearts, tho awake or dreaming
half is seeing, the other believing
eyes align and beats will sync
eyes a line for heat to sink
taken quickly for a fall
lovers stroll through memories' hall
echoes stir sight and scent
my senses flight keeps suspense
until logic teaches what it meant
all good things come to an end
summer lighting longer days
more hours to burn for lovers lay
precious tokens we hope to stay
from constant change or parting ways
spring into action to save those astray
a few more years can cost a pay
with lives and sacrifice displayed
perhaps tomorrow will be okay
years can fly like clouds in sky
feelings revealing what to decide
and just like that were back to try
to love the same until we die


Details | Haiku | |

Dead Of Winter

dead of winter with zombies 
running a muck dead of winter
with vampires hovering above
peoples beds dead of winter
is a time for the dead to pop
out of their graves and celebrate
the dead of winter once in awhile.


Details | Rhyme | |

Winter Nights Moon Glow

Would you like to go with me my love? Perhaps better not… to go! I go into the woods at night you see Neath Winter night’s Moon glow I listen for the night bird’s cries And when I hear them I know That I’m close to where I want to go Neath Winter night’s Moon glow For March is when Winter starts to die It’s life force ebbs and slows The night birds cry, the cold winds sigh Neath Winter night’s Moon glow Would you like to take that walk with me A stroll serene and slow? Perhaps we’ll be, in luck and see Things that we shouldn’t see… or know I’ll only ask you one more time (or three) You alone must decide to stay or go Winter’s demise waits not, for you or me The night birds say it’s so You’ll not soon forget what you’re soon to see Again!…perhaps best you not go! the night bird cry, high in the skeletal tree Neath Winter night’s Moon glow When Winter dies, and Jack Frost flees And barren limbs sway to and fro It’s only fools and lovers like you and me That dare bear witness to tortured throes …Neath Winter night’s Moon glow…


Details | Lyric | |

Autumn's Arms

Written November 17, 2013


The summer dies slowly
Into autumns arms
And winter does linger
Until spring breathes at dawn
I've fallen for you
Cast under your spell
My gaze as stone
As the old towne well
My face as pale
As the moon in the night sky
My heart unspoken
Left wondering why
These days are so chaotic
Yet these nights so serene


Details | Free verse | |

Mercury

My mind is dirt and this soil my curse
The seeds you plant in this heat make me worse
I just get so nervous, like I should believe
So perhaps I am wicked and not meant to be

And the steam that is rising
Intoxicates quickly
I have grown pale and swollen and sickly

Crocodile, crocodile, dry off your eyes
And take back your sorrowful, meaningless lies
I dream of your lovers, I wish for their deaths
Inside plastic bags, I will keep their last breaths
And with confined sighs, go north for a rest

I will leave with my murders and nothing will matter
Hot into cold, my love it will shatter

Beneath a deep snow, I will hibernate sweetly
And sleep off this hatred that binds me completely
I’ll pluck all my hairs, I’ll spin them for thread
To sew up the gashes I’ve put in your bed
And with mattress mended, go sleep with the dead

And the water that drips
Is forming a knife
My cheeks will be rosy devoid of past strife

My thoughts will be still when the earth has gone hard
The roots of your anger will leave my heart scarred
I just get so anxious, with all I believe
So perhaps I am wicked and not meant to be


Details | Pantoum | |

The Orphans

Weeds grow around, under the fence that leans
Wagon sits in barn yard needing mending
Hay rake left in the field to use between
Summer showers, rake hay for winter feeding

Wagon sits in barn yard needing mending
Since father died none takes charge of farm
Summer showers, rake hay for winter feeding
Five children left orphaned no one sends alarm

Since father died none takes charge of farm
Hay rake left in the field to use between
Five children left orphaned no one sends alarm
Weeds grow around, under the fence that leans



(My mother's mother was left a widow with five children ages 12 years to 6 months.  Mother's 
father 
was bitten by a rabid dog.  The doctor sent for medicine to treat the illness and gave him the 
meds.  The doctor told him that he needed to rest stay out of the heat but he felt that he had 
to 
move the saw mill to another location so that they could start work and this was a fatal 
mistake.)


Details | Blank verse | |

The Red, Red Rose

A drop of red in a field of white,
A single red, red rose standing above the snow.
Why it didn't freeze, no one knows,
A patch of hope in the barren land.
A small glimmer of light. 
A single red, red rose.

The last piece of humanity left, 
The last of life the Earth will see.
A single red, red rose above the snow,
The very last of nature's beauty,
Why it didn't freeze, no one knows.
A single red, red rose.

As time goes on, the rose will die,
The light will fade,
The hope will be no more
The Earth will come to pass away,
As the petals, from the rose, are torn,
But for now the single red, red rose,
Stands above the frozen snow.

Unless, the hope can be restored,
With love and care, the rose will grow.
It will shimmer like a light,
And it will spread it's seed,
Spread it's hope.
It will stand above the snow,
And finally, why it didn't freeze,
People will know.

The cold and barren wasteland,
That is covered with snow,
Will become green again, 
And it all started with, 
The single red, red rose
That stood above the snow.


Details | Free verse | |

Except A Seed

A shrunken, bitter fruit
Dropped from a brittle branch;
The summer rains have passed it by;
The harvesters have let it lie
And Winter stalks the field.

Numb through long days and star shy nights
Beneath a void of trackless snow;
Dull passersby may never know
The bounty death will yield.


Details | Elegy | |

My Great-Grandmother, Great Mother

My great-grandmother is sitting
outside in the winter sun,
with a double-felted deel, 
snow white hair, 
and a hat,
just taking it in.

I play at her feet, and I
make a racket, 
running fast about,
I raise dust in front of Great Mother,
whom even the birds ignore.

The quiet fire in her gentle soul
was once very fierce they say
but all I see when I look at her, 
is the calm warmth in her eyes,
while I play at her feet
with the clouds, rocks
the desert spirits, and the sky.

She moves with effort, no complaints,
she takes upon all the worldly cares
feeds, clothes, and shelters me, 
fetching and tending,
to food, water, and fire--

Ah, fire, they say, she broke hearts
of men who rode over mountains
who crossed icy rivers; 
and they say, she knew,
Knew, and her hair grew more gray,
when five of her seven children--
the exact moments they each died.

As I play with the clouds,
the rocks, the desert spirits, and the sky,
I know my Great Mother--
she lives in them all now,
somehow in that cold winter sun, she's still
sitting there with a double-felted deel, and a hat.
As I play at her feet, running fast about
sometimes I glimpse her snow white hair, and,
she takes upon herself 
all of my worldly cares.


Details | Free verse | |

Winters Sound

The trickle of sound…
The howling of my veins…
The left handed shackles keeping me…
The uncrossed territory on the north bound…
The loneliness of this cursed winter…
The slim sample of hopelessness…
The insipid matrimony…
The loss of sound…
The creaking of the earth’s rendition…
The sole purpose of this mission…
The fallen voices listen to my sobbing…
The trials and trials of weakness are coming…


Details | Bio | |

Homage To a Life


    MY skies are turning grey, there's silence in the air..
    The clouds are weighing heavy, especially in my eyes...
    My days are passing quickly by, the years have almost gone..
    Where are those sunny, summer days that were going to last forever..
    When hope was Spring of things to come and ambition drove my youthful life..
    But now the Winter fills the air and chills me to the bone..
    The evening light is fading and the road ahead is closed..
    There's nothing left of aspiration it's laying scattered at my feet..
    With forlorn hope and a future  full of scorn..
    You see I'm getting old and getting in the way..
    I'll be tomorrow's shadow sitting in the dark, or lonely in the park..
    Just like the ugly duckling but going in reverse..
    From being strong and healthy, to weak and hard of hearing..
    My tree of life is failing, the leaves so brown and withered..
    They fall and dance upon my Autumnal grave..
    I'm wrinkled to my sagging skin and chaffed beyond belief...
    My trunk is riddled with disease, the drugs will dull the pain..
    These once strong arms are snapping in a gentle breeze....
    My time is nearly over, my legs are oh so thin, I'm sinking to my knees..
    The Winter wraps it's frozen shroud around my weakened body..
    But just before I go to sleep, I smile and think of you...
    Oh my love, my precious gift, my very special moment...
    Perfection of the beautiful kind, the angel of my dreams...
    A love so true and tender, that kept me warm on the coldest days...
    And now sends my contented soul to heaven......
     


Details | Rhyme | |

Winter's Endless Night

 In the winter, when midnight's at five, 
 a broken clock ticks inside my head. 
 Cold bones ache, so I know I'm alive, 
 but my life-hung'ring soul is half dead. 

 Outside is bitten by frost and death. 
 The tired garden hides former needs. 
 Dormant plants lack color, vibe, and breath. 
 Resting hands enjoy a break from weeds.    

 Caged inside, I hide from endless night, 
 scrapbooking pictures of life now past, 
 sunning under unnatural light, 
 casting aside the stormy forecast.


Details | Verse | |

gallows tune

twisted branches cast their shadows
upon dusk infested gallows
slowly bringing up some shallow
hollow eyes, so full of fear

waiting out the fall and winter
with tighter ropes in wooden splinter
slipping into nooses center
taking lives away from here

captivated by death standing 
a chilly hand all demanding
crowds have gathered, screaming, chanting
chants that rise into the air

guilty lined up, all are pleading
families gathered, crying, weeping
weeping for their loved receding
into reapers silent care

* still working *


Details | Free verse | |

Frozen Seeds In The Dead of Winter



" Frozen Seeds In The Dead of Winter ... "

(Eccl. 3: 2)



Let Me Die
On The Cold Forest Floor
In The Glittering Dead of Winter

Let Me Not Cry
At Its Freeze-To-Death-Core
As I Lay In Its Rigid Center

And Open and Close
The 'Rest In Peace' Door
and Bid Dark Oblivion Enter

Leave Me Exposed
Where Only Blind Blizzards Snore
In The Harsh-Hush of Howling Censure

Take Me Deep
So An Avalanche Stores
My Frost-Mist and Ice-Block Sculpture

Where I Shall Sleep
As Heavy Snow and Sleet - - Pour
In This Glacial, Slumbering Adventure

Blanket Me, Goodbye
Where The Cold Ground Bore
The Last Seed of My Life To Endure

Wintry Sky
Sinks To Take Me Where Before
I Touched This Frigid Temperature

Now, Let Me Die
On Cold Forest Floor, I Adore
In Its Glittering Dead of Winter

... A Grave Season Fixture


        Written & Copyrighted ©:  1/7/2014
               by:  MoonBee Canady 


Details | I do not know? | |

Midnight blade

Midnight blade unsheathe that metal put it down to the player let him see how it feels the expression that i felt was more than a smile when i heard him mourn with a slice to the arm the blood it poured like niagra falls like a sheep to the slaughter he lied their like a dog strong scent ammonia filtered the air why gas masks work great why dont you comply
the pain that i bore was far more insane your lucky a fragment of mercy is poured out like blood


Details | Rhyme | |

Mixed Messages

It's a hazy, lazy morning
In an Arctic of the cold
And I am soon exploring
My relic of a Soul
I wonder if I'm dying,
At the thought of getting Old
All my life sincerely striving:
To save my Youth--My woe!


Details | I do not know? | |

NATURES DEATH

The trees are shades of yellow 
The leaves are a frightening red
And now the leaves are falling off,
This means nature’s dead
The autumn leaves succumb
To winters icy breath
Now the flowers are all gone
For this is natures death
Before the winter packs to go 
She returns the leaves 
Green and new
And she takes back her frozen snow
Spring and summer come to pass
Once more the birds all 
Fly away
Right before winter, comes to stay 
All the flowers, trees, and grass
Know their lives have once more
Come to pass
And once more winters icy breath 
Spells our misery 
And 
This natures death 
I was always taught that death is sad 
I was always taught that death was bad 
So why is the death of nature the most beautiful death
Because in the end 
You know this death will come again
But before death there is always life
And this is why winter is the 
Most breath taking sight


Details | Rhyme | |

Glacial

Glacial
Cold and numb I am lost within this frozen wasteland that is your world
The trees crackle and crumble under the weight of your freeze
Treading across your icy veins they shatter as I fall into the arctic stream
Swept away in your familiar blue frost with a statuesque scream
Queen of the ice your weapons subdue and enslave me in your sub-zero
My temperature drops with every whisper no chance for the thaw
Icicle eyes piercing through while my soul turns black with frost bite
Buckling in your snowy storm my remains now coated in white
Drakavai2013


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Boot Prints In The Snow

Wandering in winter's gusty grip
Nothing is safe from its frigid whip
Taming even people on their journeys.
Animals wonder if theyll see the spring
and the plants would too, 
Were it not for the Winter King
Leaving all but their progeny behind.
And on this journey through the trees
Bootprints in the snow
are the only sign of life around, 
winding their way, as if following the sound
of the Winter King's whisper
Condensing to the crystalline carpet now layed.

His Majesty's frosty reign will be over soon.
His icy staff will melt to rivers twisting through the lands
and everything will shine with new glory again.


Details | Pantoum | |

Abele Trees in Autumn

Above the lake abele trees are golden
Now that autumn has reached its pinnacle
Two muted swans surrounded by reflective color
Snowy white swans face longing for each other


Now that autumn has reached its pinnacle
The lake reflects gold and red like miracles
Snowy white swans face longing for each other
Knowing winter is coming with its bother

Now that autumn has reached its pinnacle
Two muted swans surrounded by reflective color
Knowing winter is coming with its bother
Above the lake abele trees are golden


Details | Rhyme | |

Garden of Eden ( Part one )

"Every time dear mother would speak of the Garden of Eden,
The harmonious image of our village would cross my mind,
For it is more beautiful and much sweeter than heaven,
Where my friends and I would laugh, play, and leave our troubles behind,

Our village's sky is oh so azure,
And full of different patterns drawn by it's clouds,
In winter snowflakes would fall so white and oh so pure,
As we enjoy them melt in our tongues while we chuckle and scream out loud,

When winter ends, and our village is only submerged with rain,
We'd take turns in stomping in deep puddles time and time again,
Every winter afternoon, our mothers would send us to play for hours,
For after we leave they would pick out the prettiest of flowers,
To doll up, so when our fathers are back from work, they'd be caressed with 
showers,
Of love, comfort, and a lot of joyful power.. "


Details | I do not know? | |

Ode To Winter Longing and Snow Rememdy

Sheets of nimbus cumulus, a damaging blue gathering colour mix
A grey filler sky as no birds seem to waver within a angered skyline
Beyond ahead, is spects of glass, artistic flakes choosing its place to stay?
Whitest shine of frozen water float in a reserve flight of upwards
Swifting in a promising dance to make it to the gracious dance below.
Dancing in the air circulating, making the coldest love happen.
These sudden blankets is now pelted, smashing agravating until scarf white.
No sight to see! No sight to be with frozen nimbs to climb through the flakes.
Walk through the ocean of white which is making compound on the ground happen,
togetherness family no colour, Little children delightly tongueing and stealing a little
The no taste of a source of water ala natural, smiles and activities ensue,
Sled down with dampery of heavy clothes, the ski, the snowmobile hummer, the extreme of board.
Newest winter does Old mother mature gift us, its sweet sorrow cold,
Its pantomime of beauty to lands so smileing for a cold sleep.


Details | Free verse | |

A Mad Gypsying On

i wonder if those cackling coyotes

hiking the surrounding fields sound

anything like Hell, well, i sure hope not.

Hell would be a terrible place to be.

 

still, i feel and fill with remorse.

it’s the middle of November and

it’s ruthless Ohio with her revenge.

with the love of fall beneath her

and the sparkling of frost in her hair,

beginning in the morning under a

fingernail clipped moon and too

far away stars and few headlights,

ohio offers her lullaby here, now.

 

scraggly pups made of fur and bone,

calloused paws to a calloused ground,

tough like old brick and new cement

and an icy pitch bark that bites back.

 

people are being pulled from these

pages that used to keep me wide awake

but now only keep me sad and conscience

in the too broad daylight in clean clothes

reading things too keep me soul sick,

to correlate with groggy afternoon insanity

that is not like tonight’s cold but like a

burning city, with me, standing—waiting

at the pier with the commotion of some

kind of humanity bleeding from the parks,

avenues, alleys, clubs, bars, and markets

but i only see the smoke and hear the clamor.

 

the rest is made up i suppose,

and my heart in the other senses.

 

but it is too true for those

coyotes in that cold and

i dare not let them in.


Details | Rhyme | |

Rebirth

Tis spring and budding the crocus blossom
the fuchias have died from winters fright
the cold gate of winter has released it's might
and yet in hybernation is the possum
 
the spires of the foxglove will skip this year
within the glacial tears have winnowed past
then distilling of snow hardened fast
anon the daffodils and violets will appear
 
The shoots of life spring forth in arias song
the frost within the heart of winter fled
fountains bound forth from waters shed
they have all been kissed upon by dawn
 
In the hills the trails gates are broken
winters past has smote it's autumn
languishing leaves can never blossom
and beauty of it's death rarely spoken
 
Purple lupine forest yet to stretch the meadow
the wetland swamps lay still in fallow
yet is tendered by frog and swallow
soon the cattails and water lillies fellow
 
The leaping children of the woodland forest
will spring forth from lonely glen
and years to rushed for blessing men
yet in it's radience within does rest
 
Seems felonious that within rejuvination
that the doubts of men should sprout
when manifest of nature does so shout
that rebirth to life and love it's susperation
 
But one must chose what one's course is fated
rebirth it's possibility to man
in soil the breath of life to land
Nature has so amply demonstrated
 

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Free verse | |

The Drugs

Last week of my summer break
Hanging with my friends like always
Thats when I stumbled acrossed you
And suddenly I felt my heart grew weak

Instantly I fell in love with you, thats no lie
My soul fell for you as soon as I looked into your eyes
For they looked as though the sun was shining 
directly into them

He looked at me with more compassion
Then I had ever felt
Talking all summer just me and him
About everything and about nothing

What changed that autumn??
Was it your new friends
Because I saw what you did to your old ones
What made you into this kind of monster???

Although I never told you how I felt
I would still stay up at night and cry about it
Then the final day came when I found out the truth
How drugs were destroying the man I loved

From autumn to winter and from winter to spring
I couldn't believe how different you looked
Your eyes no longer shined like the sun
Your muscles weaker than ever before

I knew you were dying, I told you to stop
But you told me you didn't care
I wanted to leave you 
But I knew you needed me now more than ever

Summer comes around, schools are getting out
And off you left, leaving me all alone on this earth
Not even old enough to graduate and yet your gone
I never stopped warning you, but I still feel I'm to blame


Details | Elegy | |

The Gardener

He spent the golden years in his
garden growing vegetables like weeds.

With a Midas-like touch, instead of
gold, everything turned green.

Spring, summer and autumn, something 
about growing brought him great joy.

Perhaps he saw in the garden's changing
seasons a semblance of life others did not:

Childhood as spring when like young 
shoots he first grew,

Work and family as summer when his
crop began to yield,

Retirement as autumn when the fruits
of his labour were consumed.

And winter... well winter was his time
to rest and reflect on his crop.

He died in the winter of his being,
content with his harvest.


Details | Free verse | |

White Death

Who said snow is beautiful?
It is like poison.
It slowly stings,
Like a carnivorous swarm of bees.

White pellets slice through air
Razor sharp;
A blizzard would be mild.
Pale oceans rise where grass once stood.

It piles up.
And piles up.
Until finally—
It stops.

And remains.
Like the laundry of a dead man;
Lifeless,
It lingers for far too long.


Details | Free verse | |

To Everything a Season

She is exposed,
the last of her finery
released by a cold snap,
leaves in a cluster blown
by a winter born breeze
stirring in the shadows

Paying homage, she bows
fairly kneeling before 
the approaching winter solstice, 
and flushed with victory, 
though seemingly defeated, 
begins to weep

For she knows
her restoration lies
in the transient spring 


Details | Rhyme | |

A Death in the City

Through the blue and frosty heavens 
Far-off stars were shining bright; 
Glistening lamps throughout the City 
Almost matched their gleaming light; 
While the winter snow as lying, 
And the winter winds were sighing, 
Long ago, one frozen night. 

In one house was dim and darkened; 
Gloom and sickness and despair, 
Dwelling in the gilded chamber, 
Creeping up the marble stair, 
Even stilled the voice of mourning - 
For a child lay dying there. 

Silken curtains fell around him, 
Velvet carpets hushed the tread, 
Many costly toys were lying, 
All unheeded by his bed; 
And his tangled golden ringlets 
Were on downy pillows spread. 

The skill of that mighty City 
To save one little life was vain - 
One little thread from being broken, 
One fatal word from being spoken; 
Nay, his very mother's pain, 
And the mighty love within her, 
Could not give him health again. 

So she knelt there, still, beside him, 
She alone with strength to smile, 
Promising that he should suffer 
No more in a little while, 
Murmuring tender song and story 
Weary hours to beguile. 

So came an angel, slowly rising, 
Spread his wings, and through the air 
Bore the child and, while he held him, 
To his heart with loving care, 
Placed a branch of crimson roses 
Tenderly beside him there. 

While, with tender love, the angel, 
Leaving o'er the little nest, 
In his arms the sick child folding, 
Laid him gently on his breast. 
Sobs and wailings told the mother 
That her darling was at rest. 

In the churchyard of that City 
Rose a tomb of marble rare, 
Decked, as soon as Spring awakened, 
With her buds and blossoms fair - 
And a humble grave beside it, - 
No one knew who rested there. 
_______________________________


Details | Couplet | |

A HEART OF COLD

 the darkness falls...the winter night
and I'm afraid....my love's not right

you squall around the cabin doors,
you seep through rosin in the floors,

cold ,so cold you have become,
it seems your heart has frozen numb
come thaw the ice that stills your blood
I feel the floe,the mental flood,
of icebergs drifting,arctic bound,
beneath your chilling kiss I found,
slivers hanging from your lips,
icicles of death that grip

and there solidify the clime.....
zero in this soul of mine,
please don't haunt me as before
don't wrap your grief around my core
though true love is as strong as death
I can't survive your icy breath

the darkness falls....the winter night,
and I'm afraid......my love's not right.


Details | Blank verse | |

Hawks

Hawks love winter and the
smell of death,
riding on bonfire winds,
dancing in cancerous snow flurries,
hanging razor icicles on overflows,
hawks love this aroma.

It’s not like napalm in the morning,
or the perfume of glory,
more the sewer whiff
of old mustard gas,
of dead sheep bloated with bad oxygen,
of flesh surrendered to decay.
Not like kerosene and detergent,
fire and fairy liquid,
throat-scouring clean,
nasal passage acrid,
pretty red and 
phosphorous green to the eye.

Not like that at all.

Hawks are hunter killers,
black marbles for eyes,
beaks like stitched wounds,
wings like feathered shrouds,
spines like lightning conductors.

Hawks love such terrain,
wastelands of possibility,
tactical genocides,
surgical strikes
pecking orders.
They love winter and the
smell of death 
like a lark’s tongue mistress,
a carrion lover betrothed,
a feral nightmare,
a neuropath dream,
or the favourite ghost
of ideology and empire 
passing unto dust.


Details | Free verse | |

Missing

The heavy winter draperies
were closed, 
not allowing
any taste of sunshine
in the parlor 
of the house.
She, 
poised at the doorway,
stared into the room
remembering times
of shared conversation
laughs, 
glasses of brandy
as they were sipped by 
the winter fire.
Summer, 
now upon her,
leaves her 
with no hope
as winter claimed her
companionship
with icy fingers.
She closed the door
going about her day
as each day passes
and hopefully
time will make
it easier.
but for now, 
she will
always remember.