When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea
With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the center of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winter-wonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand
And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each one and still I wanted more
The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again
You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
Written: Jan 15, 2011
Author: Elaine George
First Place in Brian Strand's contest: Let's See
4th Place In - Anything goes contest
In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George'.
When I was a child of three, I Went to live for a year with my Grandparents in Nova
Scotia. At that time my Grandfather was a retired Sea Captain of a Three Mast
Schooner. He had spent most of his life at sea, taking lumber and coal to New
Brunswick and various ports in the U.S. and in the winter months, would carry on to
pick-up and deliver cargo in the West Indies. Although my time with him was short,
the memories we shared have comforted me through-out the years.
It is Christmas Eve, all preparations for the day are done,
My hand grabs the doorknob as I step out to take a stroll,
On this peaceful night the village is silent, and I see no one,
Walking under the warm glow of a decorated streetlight pole.
I stand and gaze at the windows of the house next door,
Where a tree glows with bubble lights and tinsel strands,
Three stockings holding wishes, await over the fire's roar,
A scene straight from a dream, so wonderful and grand.
Glancing upwards, as the clouds glide across the moon,
Silver stars are out mingling with the drifting snowflakes,
A sight to enjoy here and now, for morning will be here soon,
A beautiful Christmas memory, deep in my heart to take.
Only one car comes up the street, as I walk along our lane,
Just a friendly snowman is there to greet me with a hello,
I stop, adjust his top hat, and reposition his pipe and cane,
This cold-hearted man has made a child smile, I know.
My ears lead me to the street corner where carolers sing,
As those old familiar notes drift towards me on the air,
More sounds seem to awaken as the bells distantly ring,
I felt nothing but a warming glow as I was standing there.
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.
When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane,
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again;
In that old house, there by the sea, where you wove that tapestry,
With all the glorious memories, of your life upon the sea.
With weathered palm, so deeply etched, with every season past,
You rubbed a porthole in the center, of the frosted glass,
Where outside, in splendour lie, a winter-wonderland,
As halos rose above your head, from a pipe bowl in your hand.
And there upon a rocking chair, as smoke rings filled the air,
We rocked across a sea of dreams, wind tangled in our hair;
To lands I’d never been before, we stepped upon those shores,
And through your eyes I saw each one, and still I wanted more.
The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green,
As the world outside, held its breath, in a sea of snowy cream;
And when the chill of winter melted, from the windowpane,
The whistling kettle, on the stove, brought us home again.
You held my hand and looked at me, with that twinkle in your eyes,
And told me you would be my Captain, 'til the day I died.
So, when winter paints those frosty ferns, on my windowpane,
I find myself a little girl, up on your lap again.
Written: Jan 15, 2011
Author: Elaine Geroge
In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George (the 3rd').
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.
You saw me from across the room
beside an open door.
Your smile erased all of my gloom
and touched me to the core.
The mistletoe tied in a bow,
your kiss that caused my cheeks to glow!
The mistletoe, the mistletoe,
sweet start of something soon to grow. . .
Then on a most romantic ride
as we sat hand in hand,
you asked me if I'd be your bride
in Winter's Wonderland.
The one-horse sleigh took us away
where snow swirled down, then gleaming lay.
The one-horse sleigh, the one-horse sleigh!
My fondest dream took hold that day.
We snuggle by a crackling fire
here at the winter's end.
No other lover could inspire
me more than my best friend.
The warm fireplace, your angel face
which softly now my fingers trace!
The warm fireplace, the warm fireplace
shows love aglow as we embrace.
*This is actually called a Trijan Refrain, but it's very similar to quatrains.
11/26/13 for Rhonda Johnson-Saunders Kiss Under the Mistletoe Poetry Contest.
Down where the blackberries now bloom
Blackberry winter is near
Jack Frost comes tonight maybe doom
With you here there's no fear
'Oar's frost might kill the early plants
But in dreams they returned
Strong and better for fall's harvest
Orange pumpkins weren't doomed
Blackberry winter has entered
My life left me barren
Devoid of warmth feeling much strifed
Need again warmth of grandchildren
Holding little one close_ touch softness
Strange how one misses small
Things like tenderness, acceptableness
A kiss that comforts squall
Blackberry winter here to stay
Or miracle will come
For a miracle steadily pray
Baby on knee awesome
I stopped just once to look back..
And saw my tracks across the snow.
Steps upon that pure white blanket,
Wishing I’d found another way to go.
Already though, in gentle downy flakes,
Nature began to fill those intruding marks.
And return the gentle winter splendor
To that serene and lovely woodland park.
The sun was sinking to its rest,
Leaving its sparkle on the forest floor.
I smiled and turned for home again…
My tired heart at peace once more
Inspired by Robert Frost
The trees are bare, now comes cold air
The breezes howl this night
I’m toasty warm, secured by charm
As we hold each other tight
This winter evening…
As the sun descends…
The moon is smiling…
No love pretends…
It’s all for real, dear…
As we stay inside…
The winter frowns…
While in here, we hide…
Our winter pleasures…
Are year round dreams…
When come the fires…
With snow filled scenes…
We’ll feel the softness…
As our hands embrace…
Reflecting fires, bright…
With red cheeked face…
Winter winds chasing, while love’s erasing
The many sounds we hear
We’re holding so tight, by the fire this night
As our bodies stay so near
Old mister winter…
Turn away from our door…
For we won’t answer…
We won’t give you more…
The room is ignited…
By this fire inside…
On this winter evening…
In here, we’ll hide…
Far from the town and its bustling throng
knowing just where to go,
Sister and I are walking along
a pathway in the snow.
Down by the lake and over a fence
are hungry ducks and geese.
To their clamor we give audience,
watching their flock increase.
Off comes my muff, for I have brought
what they love to be fed.
I hold out my hand then as I squat
to toss them crumbs of bread.
Those ducklings and geese can’t get enough,
but new snow fills the sky.
My frozen hand goes back in my muff,
for no more crumbs have I!
For the Let it Snow Contest
Based on the first picture: George Dunlop Leslie's Winter Walk
Snow falls softly late one night
In the darkness it does bask
I dread the job tomorrow
Shoveling will be my task
Beauty is in the eyes of the viewer
I see nothing but giant flakes of work
The trees all have snow on this first shower
Dreading the day of a job using torque
The pathways are snowed over
All with a reflective white
I want to get to bed soon
For I know tomorrow’s plight
I’m mesmerized by the beautiful scene
Not a thing is without some wondrous snow
Even though I sure do dread the next day
I will put on a great, wonderful show
This time of year affects me
Seems to rub off some great cheer
I will find a way to smile
Though there’s snow up to my rear
Form Quatrain-1st, 3rd, 5th stanzas have 7 syllables, 2nd, 4th stanzas have 10 syllables
Winter winds seem angry this morning...
Pulling at the branches, teasing the last leaves
My song is quickly swept away, my voice scatters
The last of the brown meadow grass dances...
The weather is changeable this time of year....
Pink tinged skies quickly spread across the horizon
My step hurries home, I pull my coat closer
Wanting to rest by the fire, and listen to winter.
A down day I'm having
They are certainly rare
No real reason
Not very happy I declare
Just one of those day
The approach of the cold
Could it be winter
Could be I suppose
Each year round this time
I'm afflicted by this
The on come of winter
The warmth I will miss
I'm aware of the seasons
Three are okay
The fourth old man winter
Wish would just go away
Sure must be speaking
For most Canucks
Maybe a mild winter
We'll have with some luck
Who am I kidding
It's in Canada I reside
Mild pertains to cheddar
Not the temperature outside
© Jack Ellison 2013
Got dumped on last night... about 4 or 5 inches!!!
An old board and a rope had made me a swing,
Sitting there when I was around the age of nine,
I curiously looked up to see the first sign of spring,
Where a robin was building a nest of twigs entwined.
Summer's heat burned my shoulders, so I sought shade,
I climbed up into your strong arms at the age of fourteen,
Along with a book, I relaxed in a solitude no one could invade,
I found myself lost within the pages and the leaves of green.
On a lazy, autumn afternoon, at the age of twenty-three,
I raked the dead leaves that buried my feet into a pile,
Through the orange limbs my black cat peered down at me,
Then leapt from the tree to play among the leaves for awhile.
Now, as I am rapidly approaching the age of thirty-one,
Branches are encased in ice, as winter continues to unfold,
From my window, I see the cardinals and the disappearing sun,
Reminding me that life still survives in the bitter cold.
March, 7th, 2014
Gail Angel Doyle's contest - "Memories On Branches"
On that Christmas eve I walked out alone
Passing sleeping fields glistening with snow
A lovely pristine carpet unmarked by man
In the midnight sky a mystic moon aglow
Here the quiet was deep and full of nature's joy
No man made sound , only the night bird's call
The scent of evergreen's on a gentle breeze
I walked until the snow began to gently fall
Reluctantly I turned my feet toward home
The city streets decked with garland and light
To face the madness of Christmas morning
But to recall this, and yes that other, silent night
by Sue K Green
Pretty are the snowflakes
As I watch them fall
Covering up the landscape
Pretty scene for all
I like to watch the snowflakes
They put on quite a show
As they flit and scatter
Everywhere they go
So many are the snowflakes
Falling down on me
I wouldn’t now start counting
A daunting task that be
Cold are the snowflakes
As too is the air
Hat, coat, and gloves now
A must for me to wear
White now are the snowflakes
Covering the ground
Careful not to slip now
Ice too is all around.
Streetlights on the snowflakes
Make for a pleasing glow
I watch now out my window
At still falling snow.
Gracefully she accepts the scepter from the season past
Winter turns her head and with a steady, unhurried pace
Covers the earth with diamonds and her velvet gown
Then happily decorates the barren trees with ivory lace
In her heart she knows her reign will be a measured thing
In time the scepter will pass again and the bough will green
But now she rules while the land rests and gathers strength
Her time, a biding time, in its vast quietude a sleep serene
It's been dull and dreary for months on end.
The chill of winter is lingering long,
Invading my bones and disturbing my mind.
How I wish this season would hurry along.
Waking this morning I glanced out my window,
Expecting more snow, more clouds, more gray.
But to my surprise and immense delight,
Golden sunlight is in full display!
Here comes the sun in all of its glory,
To warm up the earth and begin its rebirth.
The ice will soon melt and nature awaken,
With colorful flora sprouting up from the earth.
Here comes the sun, see it rise in the east,
Feel its warmth on your face at midday.
Winter's sojourn is coming to an end.
Hallelujah! Spring is on the way.
For Heather Ober's Beatlemania contest
a warm white coat,
and wraps a scarf
around her throat.
She knits the trees
lacy white caps,
and carpets with snow,
growing things that nap.
Then in the morning,
when hungry creatures wake,
she fills their bowls
with frosted flakes.
Winter's here, I'll be cold for months
Each year it's the same old thing
The cold never used to bother me much
Can't wait till that first day of Spring
Guess it's age that's made the difference
Our law says I must love the snow
Canadian, that's why, but I've had too many
Want the weather gods to know
Oh yes it was great when I was a toddler
Those days are long gone I'm afraid
Curl up under a blanket in November
Till the robins once again invade
Might even lose my Canadian citizenship
If no one alerts them I'll be safe
So please dear friends, keep it to yourself
Or I'll writing from a prison base
<3 <3 <3
© Jack Ellison 2013
Stepping on shuttered dreams
Feet bleeding wishes of travel
Disable soul mails postcards
To a corner called " Empty Apartment"
Still nature on the thirteenth floor
Mom's glasses left behind and a cup full of tears
A phone ringing obsessively
The door permanently unlocked…
Jetlag freezes childhood memories
Dirt squishes mortality between my toes
Ravens on cracked limbs distract me
A shovel full releases a white cloud
I jump on ready made steps in snow
Hungry children of the graves follow me
I stop, they stop, I feel, they feel - so lonely
Playing the game of “Orphaned Roulette”...
for Matt's Contest "Empty Apartment"
The Weather People say it surely has been
A couple of cold and snowy winter months
I'm not at all pleased with this revelation
Long for the days it was once
Used to wonder if we'd have a green Christmas
Well there sure was no question this year
Would've been a miracle if it turned out green
We had snowbanks up to our ears
Lived in Canada since the day I was born
Should be used to weather up here
It's something we actually never get used to
More than once I've frozen my ears
Why me? Why wasn't I born down in Jamaica
Walk around in shorts all day
Dream on my friend, think of this
Could've lived near Hudson's Bay
© Jack Ellison 2014
My window is like a microcosm
Of the great big world out there
Always changing, always in flux
Autumn is in the air
A forerunner of that nasty season
With it's cold and icy winds
Must endure another cruel winter
Icicles dangling from my chin
Would I move to a warmer climate
Should the opportunity arise?
You can bet your sweet bippy I would
In a heartbeat, look into my eyes
Does it look like I'm trying to jazz you
Even reserving a great big kiss
For a P-Soup friend who'll take me in
But it's gotta be warmer than this
I will consider all generous offers
The decision of this judge will be final
Prefer a winner from the opposite sex
Otherwise my offer's unconditional
My window is like a microcosm
Of the great big world out there
Almost forgot to mention the bonus
I've got long flowing flaxen hair!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Seasons in Love – Winter
Canned and conserved memories are the only sustenance
Left to feed on with a blank stare and a stern countenance
Branches intertwined in life shall remain so in death
Suppleness, vitality gone, life`s reduced to taking breath
The oxygen now feeds the flames of merciful destruction
Dry branches impatiently long for the final deconstruction
But stubborn roots grow as deep as the tree is high
Detachment, like growth, will happen gradually, by and by
Living skeletons testify to loss and the inevitable end
They stand sinister but graceful and a final message they send:
Life and love are endowed with meaning by virtue of death
Hold dear and treasure these gifts considering the final breath
Snowflakes floating from the sky
twirling, then settling down,
they're in a race with each other
to see which one first, hits the ground.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
It's starting to snow and this is a little something, I just came up with.
The tree stood stark and lonely,
All naked in the cold.
Her branches bare, her lovely leaves,
The breath of Winter stole.
In spite of all she stood yet proud,
Her branches raised to Heaven,
A silent prayer in her heart,
For Winter's sleep to lessen,
The pain she felt amid the cold,
The biting wind so cruel,
And please let not some human come,
And use her wood for fuel.
Then the winter queen looked down,
On Tree with sympathy,
And gave to her a lovely gown,
Of snow in symmetry.
Now the tree stands all adorned,
In glowing winter grandeur,
And all who see her stand in awe,
Of Tree in Winter's splendor.
Thanks to Phyllis Babcock for her poem "TREE" which inspired this one.
Fine white powder dusts the landscape, fluffy
flakes flutter and fall, landing on our skin
now pinked by the freezing air, taking
delight in the beauty of the season.
Another year turns over, people look to see
just what the coming year will mean for you and me.
Tomorrow's worries aren't here, and yesterday's are passed.
Daylight's your new blessing, but it's really burning fast.
The seasons change so quickly, now that we're growing old.
"Seize the day my son", seems I was always told.
You cannot live life over, and you cannot take it back,
so make a first impression, be a leader of the pack.
We hurry every day, never noticing the minutes
flying by so quickly, time has no sense of limits.
Just talking all the while, we have such tales to tell.
If only every now and then we grab a rose to smell.
Take time for those you love, and those who love you, too.
For tomorrow some of them might not be here for you.
Teach your children honesty and show them some good deeds.
Because love will never flourish if we never plant the seeds.
I am NOT a big fan of winter
Though I'm Canadian by birth
Nothing will ever change that
Till they take me away in a hearse
Nothing lives, everything dies
The land is blanketed with snow
We hibernate inside our homes
Till flowers of spring start to show
You'd think being born in Canada
I'd surely be a wintery type chap
On the contrary my very good friends
Get through by nap after nap
Seventy-eight winters is far too many
To ask it of anyone to endure
Done my tour of duty, I want out
Living south would be a cure
Can you tell I'm NOT a fan of winter
With it's snow and slippery ice
Used to love it when I was a wee kiddie
Hibernate is my advice
<3 <3 <3
© Jack Ellison 2013
I love the white of winter
As the snow lies on the trees
So clean and neat the landscape
But so cold the breeze.
Nothing’s ever perfect
I appreciate what’s best
It’s pretty when the snow falls
Don’t think about the rest.
I quickly grab my camera
To capture all I see
When come the snows of winter
I cannot let it be.
The white snow of winter
Covering all the ground
As far as I can see
That snow is all around.
I see patterns in the tire tracks
And ice upon the lake
What a pretty picture
All these things will make.
Children making snowballs
Throw them near and far
Looks like fun they’re having
Not at all bizarre.
Heavy coats they’re wearing
Just to keep them warm
Temperature is really down
After that big storm.
Yes, I love the white of winter
But can do without the cold.