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Snow Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Snow

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

FOR THE SONS OF MEN

Segun my child! My son!
Soon, the cock will crow at dawn
And the east will showcase the sun
Soon, you will leave my home, 
To found your own
With words of wisdom, you won’t be alone.
Like a mini-skirt, advice is too short
But it covers the body’s vital lot.

Hear me.
Your brother is not your friend,
He is another you, but independent
So your love for one another, allow no dent
For the sons of men…
Every journey far destination brings
Nature presents a transport means
The snow has the snow dogs
The desert has the camels
The long distant road has the horse

Even technology came to aid us
For the road, we have the cars
For the seas and ocean, the ship
For the rail, the train
The sky has the airplane
All, to lead us through our destiny lane

That is it with man’s life and the battle in it
For whatever fate comes to us, so be it
As the future hungers like a wild beast
Likewise on it, your eyes be firmly fixed
Take a deep breath my child, and learn this
Every master was once an apprentice
Be it the prophets or the dentists

Fate is most times very unfair
Be not defeated by the things you saw
For life is more like war
And all is fair in love and war.
But whatever life’s battle you face
Nature will surely with remedy surface.

When you fall or fail
Don’t ceaselessly wail
Inhale…count to ten, and then exhale
Turn stumbling block to stepping stone,
So the builders reject, will be chief cornerstone

Two Demi-gods are on man’s destiny entrance
Their names, Consistency and Perseverance
Segun, to them, you must bow
No matter what, no matter how
On their feet, bring your head down

I know my son, I know,
That adventure is the blood of the youths
But by rushing the moment, the petals are bruised
So, calmly assimilate my child, calm study
For so, Apostle Paul admonished Timothy
Never be the first to hate
But to forgive, be the first and be in haste

My son, all humans can’t love you
If they all do, then they want to kill you
Likewise, all humans can’t hate you
If they all do, then they want the best for you
What people suffer to get, yet you so easily get
That you must never despise
For it is your miracle in disguise

For the sons of men,
Me, myself and I comes first
Don’t follow that context
If you find the opportunity to rule
My son, take the alternative to lead
For where rulers doom, leaders bloom

When fortune knocks on your door,
Be quick to offer him a sit
Use your wisdom and condor
To keep him and give him no exit


Details | Prose Poetry |

Snow

in a moment of contented thought - the snow floats down to meet me -
like a small child emerging from a deep nights sleep - i stretch out my hand and 
receive a tender kiss - that chills my fingertips and warms my heart -
my hair becomes like frosting on a birthday cake - as tiny, perfect promises of 
laughter begin to cover my being -

too delighted with the wintry gift to shake it away - i invite it to stay and play a 
while - and as memories of a past childhood come into view - i am infused with new 
life and sweet energy - and there is a new found meaning to my day...

as long as the snow floats down to meet me - I will make time - for snow


Details | Prose Poetry |

Glistening Silver

Glistening Silver

Glistening silver on water’s edge like thousands of diamonds for my hair - 
Snow covered mountains hide summer flowers of purple, pink and gold
while black bear and deer search for left over apples from October’s harvest.
Ellijay is crisp and cleaned to perfection by nature’s wind and cold - 
The cows hide inside the old, red barn up the hill.
Hickory trees barren of fruit, yet a lone woodpecker flits back and forth looking -
searching for substance from the thick bark only it can penetrate. 
My prayer for snow covered mountains has been answered.
Seventeen years of Florida sun has scorched my throat and mind.
I wanted to see New York snow in North West Georgia -
One full Sunday of snow falling for my eyes to fill
 in the glorious beauty of winter’s wonder.


Details | Prose Poetry |

The Reflection on Seasons in the Supposition of Snow.

I stared at walls and contemplated colors~

I believe it was after midnight~

he spoke of nothing as I imagined the importance behind us, as I imagined the breeze that
was affected by his voice, as I realized nothing intrigued me...

and here we were.

His arms spoke of goosebumps, little shivers up my spine, and September had this way about
her that I wished to somehow capture in mason jars that would decorate the rooms we may
sit in come snow, I knew the reflection of fire across skin and I kissed possibilities as
I watched our seasons...

change.


There's no stopping distance despite the desire to break clocks, minutes and miles are
irreversible, I've found, so I counted them, the hours, and made sure he was touchable and
only an arms length away...


My August arms brushed across his chest, he had the ability to calm though summer still
danced through his heart, my fingertips traced over the forgotten eyelashes that
desperately tried to escape sight and I breathed, sending wishes to the walls that
surrounded us, to the edges that had yet to decide their color, that touched nothing...

yet captivated my attention.


There were shadows that covered us~

I think they appeared right beyond midnight~

but I knew we were swallowing September,  I supposed we'd create minutes that would make
us smile come snow and we'd kiss in the reflection of fire...

escaping distance

with the whispers that affected skin.




Details | Prose Poetry |

The North Pole Journey

As we approached the ice bergs our ship seemed tiny
they towered high above us as we crept into the bay
we could see the Eskimo's and their sleigh's waiting
now we would complete the next few legs with them

Our goal is to reach and set up camp at the North Pole
loading our supplies onto the sleigh's and getting on
soon we were speeding along, the ground very bumpy
clinging on, ducking  branches as they whip  back and forth

A wonder world of pristine white and hues of various blues
only broken up by the line of trees glinting brightly green
large ravines off to the side, one slip and you would be gone 
to a cold icy grave buried forever in this lost icy world of snow

Onwards over the harsh landscape, we need to reach camp 
before its dark, to unpack what's needed for overnight stay
light a campfire settle and feed the husky's waiting patiently
cook and eat our food as we share a few beers and some jokes

All too soon its dawn, temperature is -20% we have to break
things free from the ice, before we can eat and pack up
husky's are linked up and ready, what a din they are making
so excited to get going, this is now the final stage before the pole

We fly down barely noticeable trails that twist and wind slurry
left behind us, half a days travel left not too far to go now
some we leave the tree line behind, in front nothing but snow
ice bergs so big you could lose a couple of houses inside them

At last we see the buildings ahead and people pouring out 
they will return to their own lands until it is time to relieve us
six months we will be here recording data about weather
and other things, watching polar bears and noting their habits

All this just for some insight and some data that will get buried
as for us well we have the open space, the freezing cold
each other to help past the long nights, day is only 6 hours
18 hours of dark, and fearsome storms that will be our lot    

Cut off now until spring returns and the reindeer return
they have wintered far to the south now coming back
they will give birth here on the icy plains of endless snow
and we will return to so called civillization until next year


Details | Prose Poetry |

WinterBane

WinterBane 
WinterBane 
 
Soltive pre ordained priest warlike additives initially a Jesus Freak becoming cold 
hearted in the winter. Bane has come with hatred of simple minded people. Sexual 
orientation is nill. Macabration indentation on the quilt. A welcome matt with a towel 
for spills. I have a small fortune tied. Up is not an option now. There is only snow up 
there eventually. The water line is nearer the river then the streaming stream of 
water near me on the highway catching all the melting riverlets as they run away 
from home in WinterBane. Some men still have strength but they abuse it think to 
break down boarded ruins tearing down old barns and cornors of old abandoned 
houses where homeless and poor people might find shelter from the rain. Where will 
they find to dwell. Because of wealth they have a large area to heat in WinterBane 
they have a larger of a structure the more expensive in the WinterBane with sleet 
coming down in Sheets of Ice looked like a solid wall of water hitting me Frost icing 
clothing no thing was DRY ice all over me a few moments after I stepped toe out of 
sheltor walking on the SIDE of the road cant walk on the roadway slipping on the ICE 
stepped offroad walking in the treelined. I found what looked like a Najavo Hogan 
brogaded outside there was clothes hannging on branches a Babylon Garden in the 
snow. While the whole city was whited out at degrees zero. The goose has a liver. 
Oh Pâté the liver rules the Goose is cooked with too many alcholic incumbents while 
the minutes of the meeting Read all old activity reported long ago nothing is new 
under the sun. Nothing there is nothing is there nothing in my past has preparred me 
for my future education has failed me for the alcholic eye was ruined for functioning 
in SOciety degenerate reborne. Nothing smelles worse to a man then sex mixed up 
with tobacco and alchohol how can anyone live as porn objects and still survive the 
toll booth smells like whiskey before three pee em it takes the heart to control it 
takes the lust to want. I feared to die for I was sinnor I feared one day to lay 
underneathe the snow ensheathed but then one day has come to eye EYE Fear No 
Snow EYE Fear No Snow I am a man. The snow no longer bothers me. I am beneath 
it all, My soul is not inside of me. It leaves me when I fall. As I lay here 
silently,wating for the trumpet, It will blow! 
I do not any longer fear the snow. 
Copyright © 2006 charles hice


Details | Prose Poetry |

Things To Give Away

Tarny was a little bear 
A teddy bear he be 
Coat was as white as snow 
To this we all agree 
. 
Tarny was a Christmas gift 
Given to a lady fair 
Was sent by her Tarnished Knight 
How she wished that he was there 
. 
Tarny wore a little coat 
Where pinned upon his sleeve 
A note from her Tarnished Knight 
Said "will you read me please " 
. 
"Sorry I can't be with you 
On this Christmas day 
I know its very hard for you 
That I'm so far away" 
. 
"So I am sending Tarny 
For you to now embrace 
I will be there very soon 
Then I will take his place" 
. 
"Tarny has a special gift 
He'll make your dreams come true 
Just close your eyes and make a wish 
You will see what he can do" 
. 
Tears now flowed from her eyes 
Squeezing Tarny oh so tight 
Closed her eyes and made wish 
To dream of the Tarnished one tonight 
. 
That was some time ago 
In another Christmas past 
Once there was hopes and dreams 
Somehow they didn't last 
. 
Tarny now is put away 
Never sees the light of day 
Shares a space with odds and ends 
In box of " things to give away" 
. 
Fleece once of snow flake white 
Now has stains of crimson red 
Came from a broken heart 
Oh! how Tarny bled 
. 
So if you find a little bear 
Slightly stained in red 
May not be a teddy 
But this Tarnished Knight instead 


Details | Prose Poetry |

Blinding Snow

The man made his way through the deep underbrush
The snow pelted against his face and thick fur coat
The forest quickly turned from brown to white
Snow kept on at a steady pace and he had to move
Or be caught in the raging storm that blew
He knew that as long as he kept moving 
He would survive on his trek to the valley below
The snow mounted into banks quickly
Each step became more labored than the one before
The path became slippery on the downward slops
 the steady pace slowed to almost a crawl.
The once clearly laid out path now
became invisible, he must pick up the pace
It was no place to be caught on the mountain slopes
during a blowing snow storm.
As he continued his trek he only hoped
that he was headed in the right direction.
For the blinding snow hid all from his sight
As the cold began to seep into his body
his fingers and feet no longer could be felt
Yet, he pushed on knowing that if he stopped
he would be frozen or fall asleep.
He pushed on and came to the bottom of the 
mountain just before dusk.
His determination kept him going and thoughts
of his family remained clear in his mind.
He had made it home and counted himself lucky
to be alive for outside the storm still raged.
Early surprise snow storms can catch a person unaware
And he counted himself as one very lucky man.


Details | Prose Poetry |

Winter Ghost

The snowflakes fall,
each one unique and alone,
covering the Earth like returning souls
to mark this winter day.
 
Quietly I watch Nature perform
Her trick of purity and grace,
grateful for my solitude,
communing with my soul.
 
The flakes become small,
like dust motes in an old room
with sheets thrown over furniture
and the curtains drawn tightly shut.
  
I watch the snow fall and tempted, I venture out;
wind stirs branches in the park
and I crunch the soft snow underfoot
as a dog would crunch on a bone.
 
My footprints leave a mark and I tread backwards,
retracing my steps to the back door,
pondering as I retreat the ying-yang of snow
nestling on the top of a black wheelie-bin.
 
From an upstairs window I look at the ghost
of the park, covered in white winter's shroud,
 the park is empty, devoid of life's bustle.
Downstairs I watch steam rise from a kettle
 
and take it outside to pour over dead covered leaves, 
the evaporation is instant, steam rises from snow:
I marvel at the incongruous sight and step back inside,
Satisfied with my experiment and my silent, pale visitor.


Details | Prose Poetry |

One More Thanksgiving

The Snow Camelia hedge row is in full bloom. Lovely white as newly fallen snow against waxy dark emerald green.  The sun broke the horizon in a pastel pink but very swiftly turned to a clear horizon.  The area where the sun ball rises is a golden glow. Thank you God for a chance to live another day and another Thanksgiving.  Now surrounded by sounds_crows, roosters, and a bird sound that is just chir-rup really mimics a cricket but not.  The cold is penetrating saying go inside escape the cold go to a warm place. Once again God thanks for a warm place to go and its comfort.  The ambrosia needs to be made, getting breakfast, and four people need to get ready. The sun is touching the top of the trees and duty calls come..


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