These Snow Epic poems are examples of Epic poems about Snow. These are the best examples of Snow Epic poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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…
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..)
Cherokee (Tall Warrior of Tanasi)
White smoke ascends above the distant hearths
the softness of the cold, inside connotes;
while snow continues spreading on the earth,
his spotted chestnut snorts, and vapor floats.
Concerned the stalwart stares above the land
where snow flakes in the winter gust rotate
the herds of buffalo tracked down and strand
-were forced to move ahead and relocate.
The Ag'tanahi-Anisgaya words fly
with crows' invisible fast wings and stray,
they guide his solemn spirit to reply
to calls, the sovereign woods and night convey.
The Warrior of Tanasi harks the sough,
the trees conduct to him along the slope,
what precognitions in the ether strew,
who has the wisdom will translate pines' trope.
The winds transmit the ancestors' same song
to the Tanasi of the Cherokee, Tall soul,
inside the woods they dance with snow along
repetitive crows winging and skies' call.
Inside the night he drifts along death's fare
where sacrifice redeems itself with pride
The Greater Spirit shall bestow his care,
for the Tanasi kindred, will provide.
© G. V., 11-07-2013, All Rights Reserved
Ag'ta na hi = wise
A ni s ga ya = men
(Dedicated to our beloved Linda PD)
Crying Rivers (The Ballad)
Undercover, waters of rain sweeping in
Children cold, no longer splashing
Tragic sobs, epic force of the mountain rain
Beautiful as it may seem,
She cries, a tune,
Mocking the Maple, lands
Crooked Cornwall, she steams
Oceanic dreams, monsoon season
Frozen, dead, ice skating rink
Her winds, Pretty Chains O' Lake
Wet and Wild, the Elk drinks from its own garden
When words fail, feelings of fear grow thin
Beautiful as it may seem,
The ocean succeeds away from the sea
Awake during winter's rainy torrents
Lost in the mud's of Jordan's heartache,
Deep down the milky Lake Bellaire's open way
River Blues, icy cold naps, bayous shutting up
Racing rivers crying from the western sky
Silent, bells chime in the Black Mallard waters
Streams, blowing and drying dew droplets
Little rapid tears, Calm river seeds.
Sugar, Swan waves down by Devils Creek
Listen to the thunder bay rolling in
Beautiful as it may seem,
A northern world with streaks of falling rain
Pretty running white hair,
Beautiful crying winds
The Eyes of Michigan
Call it what you want!
I call it, his favorite season hunt...
Two hoofs imprinted near the riverfront.
Echoes calling my soul with a loud, ferocious grunt.
I smell it in the air, lost upon the white golden stair.
A deep frost dwelling all over his lair.
Tangled by the frozen grip of my hair.
A decision, I declare to give what he won't spare.
This man has no red suit..
Lurking in the white to recruit.
A midnight suicide clouding me with pollute.
I pause my tongue on mute, lost in a white castle chute.
Headed straight into a shivering blazing star path.
The land of snow covered like a bubble bath.
Breaking icicles like crystal glass, suck3d by the milky-way mass.
Multiplying bruises like a cascade, enjoying the aftermath.
Finding a way to slit the pain in my domain.
I grab a coat and lace my name to Mary-Jane.
Inserting the finest line to ease the drain in my brain.
I drink the icy scotch, and drop a silver nickel into the devils cocaine.
Fallen in to his bait, its too late, I got 7 lines on my dinner plate.
I'm covered up in snow, enjoying the amazing way to suffocate.
Eight beats to every minute is my new heart rate.
I'm reaching for the white golden gate, where the white devil waits.
Drowning like liquor in a frappe mixing the winter's high tide.
Death to my soul is where I hide under this white blanket neutral side.
Too heavy to uplift this storm lost in the devil's cold custard suicide guide.
Waking up in a coma, in a world where white collides with the rage of suicide.
(( Trapped in a snowy blizzard))
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
The path was long and winding; the snow falling, not making a sound.
His hands thrust deep in his pockets.
He hated being here with the wind howling all around.
His fingers clasping a golden locket.
The snow made it hard for him to see.
The ice wanted to freeze his tears.
He didn’t think he could stand this pain.
They had been together so many years.
The trees met overhead, the snow had difficulty getting through.
He didn’t find relief though; the wind cut like a knife too.
She was dead. he had to accept it and the time of year was here.
How many had it been he didn’t know, but it was definitely more than a year.
It was here again, and it was a night like this, fighting the falling snow.
She told him it was over on this very spot, where their love did grow.
The fight they had it was vile, he could not stop, and she pulled away.
She tried to run, he could see in her eyes, but then he made her stay.
He grabbed at her, the necklace broke and she let out a cry.
His fingers clasped the knife handle, even though he didn’t know why.
It suddenly flashed as though with a life of its own, and the snow at her feet went red.
He looked at her beautiful body lying there, and he knew that second she was dead.
He came back every year, always surprised, that they had never found her
When there she was standing, beckoning him, the snow swirling around her.
He rushed to where she stood; he knew the spot so well.
Her arms were open wide, his breath seemed to stop, his chest began to swell.
Was this forgiveness, was this release, would he now be able to sleep?
She was here, his mind he thought he was losing; he might be able to keep.
He held out the necklace, still with the broken chain.
She wrapped her arms around him and they were suddenly one again.
His feelings, were in turmoil, he didn’t know how this could be
Then he felt his blood begin to boil, and surround him like a red sea.
Her smile was wide; an icicle glinted as it entered his heart so deep
She said you are with me now, but I promise you will never sleep.
Entry for Dead winter Written By: Mandy Tams
On sunlit wings
High above the earth,
in the realm of spiritual beings
and cool streams
I live my dreams
I live my emotions
I am but a feather,
beginning to fly
Clouds of purest snow
I passed below
in the blue
You could have it too
Come up if you may
Circles of eagles,
in the blue
You are all with me too
clouds of purest snow
Together we flew
in such golden light
Circles of eagles,
above clouds of purest white
The higher I flew
I met people I lost too
Circles of eagles
High in the light
A spiritual place,
in golden light
Circles of eagles,
The blade is frozen - feels like ice,
arcane the skies of winter's war,
'der Valkyrien' bold entice
today to fight alongside Thor. 04
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. 08
© G. V. 07-27-2013
The earth slips into a deep sleep
all beneath its surface now dormant
sleepy animals curled up in their dens
soon to fall into the sleep of hibernation
all now slowed down awaiting the snows
trees now denude of their canopy of leaves
Jack Frost comes creeping with icy fingers
covering everything in stark bright white
hoar frost, branches sparkling with icicles
softly, come the first snows just a sprinkle
a promise of more, laden sullen skies above
in the morning, a world of brilliant white
Fresh and crisp unmarked by human tracks
just the odd three toed marks of birds
deer trails pass through so distinct
the flash of colour from Red Robin's beast
drifts of snow, some very deep lie in wait
for unwary travelers tempting with beauty
Slowly, oh so slowly the thaw arrives
everywhere a-run with water trickling
now appears the odd patch of faded green
Winter releases her hold with reluctance
fighting to the end, then slips away
leaving Spring to awaken the land with warmth
Now the birds are busy, gathering the twigs
also moss and feathers with some sheep's wool
busily building nests all shapes and sizes
the males preening and showing off to hens
fighting for the rights of lady and territory
the winner, the one who's chicks will be born
Leaves unfurling on the trees reaching out
sun bathed they quickly grow and bush up
to give shelter to birds and tender plants
bulbs now pushing up snowdrops appearing
followed by gay crocus and waving daffodil
finally come the roses, tulips and lupines
All now a splash with colour gleaming in the sun
Summer has arrived with her hot sultry heat
languidly the breezes flow over the landscape
an earth that is now ablaze with vibrant greens
emerald vieing with turquoise, lime and pea green
scarlet beside pink and red, a vision of beauty
pure white of daisies and yellow petals of roses
Too soon, far too soon slowly the nights lengthen
a chill is felt in the air as daylight fades away
leaves start to turn to various shades of brown
then giving up their grip are carried by the wind
plump apples fill the orchards they taste so sweet
corn and other crops are now ready for the harvest
Bare trees now greet us as the days shorten quickly
Autumn drifts gently in, time to light the log fires
to tuck one's self up with a book and mug of cocoa
ponder on the year gone by, the highs and the lows
the cycle of seasons complete for yet another year
life reaffirmed and ready to face whatever is ahead
written 11/26/2013 by Shadow Hamilton
contest Impress me sponsor Giorgio
I went with epic motif
Oh, tragic feather what is thy tragedy
No longer freedom gay or certian loft
How is this thy new translation
From a majesty, unto a wing thou hath mighty dropped
Were thou thus, shunned, cast away
Or merely, cut out or off
As limb from downward spiral angel
Perhaps, a troubled finch or insanity in wayward hawk
Lie, if thou must, be it amidst a deafening silence, lonesome soft
But, I plead, please tell me fallen feather, what hath befallen thee
Thy tuft to ne’er evermore touch again
What life should be, warmth of the summer's breeze
Sleep, sleep now 'neath the alley's gutter greys
Catching Weeping Willows damning drops
Adrift as the drowning lily dying
In seas of the myriad scattered rots
An accomplice I shall say, within a winter's willing white
And alas, buried ordinary in this doth the corpse delight
Far beneath the crowds held at bay and forever lost
Now thou hath become the naked grove of wicker and then...
the more of naked souless crops