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Best February Poems

Below are the all-time best February poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of february poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | February Poem | |

AQUARIUS I AM

Clearly I am I.  
Carrier of EARTHS  NECTAR.
CONSTELLATION AQUARIUS.
Truth turns a TRANSPARENT BLUE.
WATER BEARER  I AM.
AQUARIUS AM I.
HONESTLY NO SCHEMES ALLOWED
I  AM  I, CLEARLY I AM 
AQUARIUS I  TAKE  A SOLEMN BOW
AQUARIUS  TO  AQUARIUS
AMEN 
AGAIN
AMEN

Details | February Poem | |

Statuary Grey

White overshadows winter’s array
and you fear color will never show. 
For blanketed within a bland duvet,
depression deepens with falling snow.

Skeletal trees like sculptures of clay,
stand silent as outstretched fingers freeze.
And seem stenciled upon a grey day,
edges blurred by an icy breeze.

The frigid air wrestles your breath away,
overpowered by unyielding cold.
And muting the sound of children’s play,
melancholy thoughts strengthen their hold.

Deepening pot holes cause nerves to fray,
and anger broods within shadows cast.
For there’s always a traffic delay,
dashing hopes that this weather won’t last.

Purple and scarlet tint the sun’s rays,
yet sunset chills you to the bone.
For when dusk dims on such dreary days,
you feel abandoned and all alone.

Details | February Poem | |

A poem for YOU

In this world of Uncertainties I’m the man that you can trust And in my words of sincerity That my love would never last. And if you could only feel, what i feel for you You can ask me “why?” so you can see the truth Like our love that tightens the rope, Like a light that would give us hope. As you watch the dark skies Let me grab the moon for you, And as I catch the bright stars That’s the way you can see me through As this planet turns as it always will And things go wrong and you don’t know what to feel Hold my hand for it will make us strong Like a wind, we will carry on The wind blow that sings a hymn for you For they know what does love means for the two Love is blind, and not deaf So how’s success if you’re not ready to bet? In this poem with full of rhymes, A full of love, Babe can you be mine? I don’t expect too much from you Why should I? If you complete my whole. “Till death do us part” that’s what they have said But why do struggles crash them ahead? Don’t ask me when my love will last, To count all of our quarrels, is that a must? Now and Forever is all that I promise No day dreaming and without reminiscence As the matter of time, as the time passes by Together we stand, together you and I
A poem for my Girlfriend for our anniversary :) pls comment and rate... you are free to judge and criticize my work :) God Bless

Details | February Poem | |

ELEMENT OF WATER-BEARER


Unorthodox, this water- bearer rules,
an Aquarian god moody yet calm in the
face of persistent winds…his pail of wine
gushing on mouths of February streams,
like an outpour into first night’s cycle
of unpredictable moves, reigning for thirty
days to unfold like a river-in-waiting,
this heir of brazen stars: a cool dip 
born from rose-yellow...red, maybe for
hearts to quiver upon Cupid’s aim.

Oh, his vision is light years ahead of time;
breaking from clasps of tradition,
his maverick streaks defy life's norms
and ignites a Uranus heart to signal 
the rise of new dawning…and while he
dives into a crest of independence,
fool he is for needing warmth and affection.
Yet,a blend of hermit's pride and gentleness
dares the element of air to brew a storm,
then romances the lusty sea of love in a flash...
pray tell, how can one define a mystery?



Though I'm Capricorn, this poem is for my
dear brother, my former boss, Sir Tory, 
a special guy mate, and close buddy, Arno.
------------
Leonora Galinta's Poem With A Theme,
Zodiac Sign Contest
by nette onclaud  7/09/2014 

Details | February Poem | |

You

Roses are red like the color of my heart.
Violets represent the color of my face when I'm with you.
I know this is a bit cheesy but I...
Will say that you represent Aphrodite.
You're so cute like a kitten sleeping.
Or maybe a box full of puppies?
You make the word "emo" make me think of "emotes" and
The only emote I do is "loving you".
You could cut a C-Section in me and see all the butterflies.
My hands are almost broken from all the roses I picked for you.
The word "LOVE" to me means:
L - I love you , O - I love you , V - I love you , E - I love you
I'm not that creative like a 5 year old but...
You make me think of "Legos".
I can fit all of the pieces to build us together happily ever after!
I want to hug you like how I hug my pillow at night,
And when I fall asleep, I dream of you...
I wish I had more time to name reasons on why I love you,
But the hourglass I have shattered and 
It would take me more time to fix everything...
And let's be honest... No one would try to fix that stuff.
You also remind me of a scary roller-coaster.
I'm not saying you're scary but that good feeling people get when it
feels like their soul is being taken, because you take mine away.
I think I'm out of clever ways to say "You are amazing".
Maybe you could change this and help me find more.
I just want you to know that I love you, I love you, I love you.
So, as to what I was saying earlier:
Roses are red, Violets are blue
I Love You.

Details | February Poem | |

Lost Identity: View point of a slave

Why is my skin color different?
Did God make me this way?
When he made me, did he have
intentions on me being a slave?

And I thought we were all brothers,
including all the ones of different colors.

But why are they beating and hurting the others.
Someone save me, I didn't choose this life.
These scars, they've carved me with the sharpest
knives.

All I have is my faith.
Because if I'd held on to anything else
it'd be theres to take.

What is it that I ask for?
Equality, I preach.
Something small to you, 
but makes a difference
for me.

Whipping, spitting, hitting on me.
Raping our women in your wife's sheets.
Taking our children and turning them into workers.
No sense of empathy, grief or composer.

For the brotha' on my left and my sista' on the right,
with the courage that I hold I will continue to fight.
You have taken away my freedom, and most of my life.
But what you have failed to obtain is my state of mind.

Go ahead work my body, and do all that you please.
This is just a shell anyway, it's not coming with me.
You spit, you laugh, thinking you gained the world.
You think you have power because you've raped a young girl.

Stand tall sir with all of that pride.
And go ahead and hold it until the day that you die.
But your day will come when you'll fall to your knees.
Feeling the burn on your body from the whips you've given me.

"The LORD is my shelter,"
I continue to say.
While my soul goes up as God takes me away.
I wish you peace with smile on my face,
knowing that God teaches the fullness of grace.



Details | February Poem | |

As Time Goes on

The days of March are dark and drear.
In April rain clouds still appear.
By May the weatherman we cheer,
And June is here, and June is here.

July brings forth the perfect rose.
In August we take off our clothes.
September we must don our hose,
And summer goes, and summer goes.

October the cool breezes blow.
November brings a hint of snow.
December time is all aglow,
Bright gifts with bow, bright gifts with bow.

In January a deep freeze.
Small February is a tease.
Bold March once more will try to please.
Time to plant peas, time to plant peas.

6/18/13

Details | February Poem | |

Jessica McCord: Selfish Assassin

It was February 2002 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, and WWF No Way Out), that Jessica McCord and her then-husband, Jeff, killed Alan Bates and his new wife, Terra. Before their deaths, Alan "A.B." was in a custody battle against his ex-wife to have determined who'll have gotten full custody of their two daughters (born in 1990 and '92). The custody hearing might have taken place in November 2001 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, WWF Rebellion, and WWF Survivor Series), but not until December 2001 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, and WWF Vengeance), when the lady had spent that time in jail for skipping custody hearings more than twice. It seems that Jessica had disapproved of both of her daughters having the late Terra for their step-mother. the only two things that describes Jessica McCord are selfish and a coward. She selfishly pulled both of her daughters out of their respective schools, she hid them away so that her late ex-husband couldn't gain full access to them, and/or whatever. So, the fact that Jessica McCord had used her own daughters as a pair of pawns as if she's been playing a game of chess had made the late Mr. Bates, the attorneys, and Birmingham Police officers of Birmingham, Alabama, very sick. The lady, Jessica, was afraid that the judge would grant Alan and his new wife, Terra, full custody of the girls, so she and Jeff killed them; thereby dumping both of their bodies in a burned-down car outside Atlanta, Georgia (aka Hotlanta, aka Dirty South, and aka ATL). Jessica McCord may have tried to label her late ex-husband as a bad guy, but no one bought it, not even her in-laws, the prosecutors, and the judge. She knew that she and her husband were going to get caught; they knew it. And where is Jessica McCord as of February 2003 (WWE Raw, WWE SmackDown!, and WWE No Way Out/World Wrestling Entertainment's first 'No Way Out' pay-per-view event, ever)? She's in prison, along with her then-loser husband, Jeff McCord, serving a life sentence in prison with no possibility of parole. Ms. McCord should've gotten the death penalty, but that's the way the law works. And as far as the Bates family, the entire community of Birmingham, and the two daughters are concerned, prison is exactly where they belong. Well, it looks like the ghosts of Alan and Terra Bates will be haunting the two-then McCords for life. Let's hope that the Bates sisters don't suffer the same fate their father and step-mother did. And if I see the Bates sisters in person, there's just no telling.

Details | February Poem | |

Ode to Humphrey

The"tail" I have to tell, starts off really sad.
My sweet doggie Murphy died and my heart, it hurt so bad.
Until one day in early spring, I got a call that made my heart sing!
There were some puppies born in Waco, the daddy -Jasper, and mommy- Juneau.
Four little boys, three little girls. But the picture of one boy, made my heart twirl!
So I waited for a week or two, to meet my little puppy-oh so new!
I named him Humphrey, such a handsome boy! He has brought  laughter back and oh what a joy! He's super cute, and very smart. Many would say, he's a work of art!
He's learning new tricks, and how to potty outside. So many rules to learn and abide!
Humphrey is growing so quickly, the puppy breath will soon disappear. He will be an adult in less than a year! Every stage of his life is a blessing from above. I guess that's the true meaning of what we call "puppy love".



Details | February Poem | |

Your Eyes

 (Dedicated to Folake)

Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.

Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.

May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
 
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.

Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.

Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.

Details | February Poem | |

February Funny Bone


In the month of February 'twas fate
We chose our special wedding date
        A love, I cannot explain
        Couldn’t wait to take his name
So why do I still hyphenate?       


By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, January 30, 2012
for Linda-Marie's February Funny Bone contest

First place finish

Details | February Poem | |

ALCHEMY


The calendar reports that February will be a short month. It lies. February is shackled to each of its endless, grey hours and this month will be cold and draining. People have packed up their Christmas lights. All is bleak, and my kitchen window has betrayed me.

frost on the pane 
constricts a view to blanched roofs-
windchill factor

Winter is pummeling the region with frigid fists. Today, I will cook with spice. Though some prefer the familiar respites of creamy potatoes or fresh baked bread, I long for my taste buds to tingle. I have been gifted three hours, time enough to saturate my senses. I’ve gathered my ingredients and start to prepare two dishes.

stinging tears
mingle with home comforts  –
minced onions

Cooking this way is intoxicating. I loose myself in texture and aroma. I turn the volume up on the CD player, allow the notes to stir me as I stir tea.  The music is sensual, evocative.

I tap a spoon
on a chipped cup that steeps chai –
Bollywood soundtrack

I forget the subzero temperatures, the punishing trek through snow with a large bag of groceries. My hips pick up the rhythm and respond to a tune that I can not translate but somehow understand, for the song is filled with longing. My feet move and the steps are defiant. While meat browns, I turn my back to all the white, the icy sidewalks and the clouds that have become ever-present and I glide to my spice drawer. 

I am making butter chicken, knowing it will tantalize the tongue, readjust the temperature gage. There is alchemy to spice. The magic begins with Garam masala. Later, turmeric’s pledge will be accepted by cumin. I take a deep breath and let the the fog of flavour chase away each chill. 

curry and cloves
transform the ordinary –
taste of India

Next, I begin on a recipe which I’ve modified. It is not quite Coque au Vin. I dredge the meat in Herbs de Provence. Root vegetables blend with crispy bits of bacon and chicken stock. Then, I combine fresh herbs, tuck them into cheese cloth, set it afloat and let the satchel share its wealth. 

savoury branches
wilt as broth simmers   –
bouquet garni 

I take my time tidying the mess which I’ve made. The poet in me takes a second look at the meals which now cook side by side, like twin continents on my counter. The cultures are distinct, west and east, and yet the aromas easily accommodate each other. There is no division, no conditions, no restrictions. Two territories, well seasoned and season-less. 

the warmth of the world 
escapes in steam from crockpots–
my contented sigh

Again, I inhale. Tonight, we will feast.  A view of the outside no longer matters. This small space has suddenly grown. Time has flown and winter will not cross this doorway.

I will not let it. 


Details | February Poem | |

First and Last Kiss

Atop the road by the sea
Thou confessed thy affection for me
By a kiss as thy language of love
Ebbed from the copious desire thou have

A kiss from thee, my first love,
Something at last I have
My first love; my first kiss
I didn’t expect I’ll miss

‘Twas a kiss of farewell
For my love will depart and travel
Didn’t know when we’ll meet again
But I’m hoping it’ll happen

Though it’s heartbreaking,
I have to accept the pain I’m feeling.
The first and last kiss we had
Is the first and last kiss we’ll have?

Details | February Poem | |

Why didn't I die

Why didn't I die, why didn't I die 
When all the dreams and hope do fail
Dear Savior take away my life

Yet still to this day do I grind
In search for that dear wanted grail
Why didn't I die, why didn't I die 

So I have thought for months and months
Leaving behind a an endless trail
Dear Savior take away my life

My hope for program has gone wrong
And beat me like an evil tail
Why didn't I die, why didn't I die

I feel so hurt I cannot try
My wracked soul has left me frail
Dear Savior take away my life

And from my failures do I hide
While burning blushing in my shame
Why didn't I die, why didn't I die
Dear Savior take away my life

Details | February Poem | |

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 | February Poem | |

Betch Please, Really

I simply love being me for I am so good at everything step into my city and they will tell you who is King one day when I am hungry I will swallow everything then and only then shall I inherit the stuff I dream even then I promise not to settle for satisfaction at any instant half a second I could spring into full action so go against me? please, you do not even measure up to half of the goodness that I hold tight like my treasure still spreading rumors about me to try and destroy my life can't believe I let myself get beat by a stripper and my self-intended knife try and say I'm gay even though we both know that isn't the truth just ask any woman I been with if they ever needed proof they'll say I was the cream of the crop as they took it all night knowing I just may never stop I own the status of a legend now what you got left to say when I bring it twenty-four seven?

Details | February Poem | |

Look Memaw

Look Memaw!

I went outside when my grandson called me.
Down the wheelchair ramp I walked while looking.
I glanced all around, left and right, searching.
Then, I heard it, his wee small voice saying,
“Look, Memaw, I am up here in the tree!”
To my surprise, I had to look way up.
Not ten feet, not twenty feet, thirty feet –
Yes, tiny as he is, he climbed that high.
Afraid to show alarm, that he might fall.
I laughed and said, “What are you, my primate?”
“What’s a primate?” he asked curiously.
“A monkey, a primate is a monkey.”
After I responded, he replied, “No.”
With great pride, adding, “I am a tree frog.”

© February 29, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen



© February 29, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Narratives Free Poetry 
Sponsor	Catie Lindsey

Details | February Poem | |

Forever and a Day

Each February brings that special chance,
One day a year to say the words of love,
Without a love to share the wined romance,
Instead I look up to the stars above,
While remembering days when we would dance.

Those nights I held you close, so close to me,
Or held your hand while walking by the shore,
Those times we were young and loving free,
Yet now each day means that I miss you more,
But when I close my eyes you’re all I see.

No day goes by without a thought of you,
Each morning brings that now familiar ache,
And skies never seem to be quite as blue,
For you, my heart, I can never forsake,
You are my words and ev’rything I do .

Each February brings that special chance,
One day a year to say the words of love,
I have a love to share divine romance,
When e’er I look up to the stars above,
And remember the time you and I danced.






Form: Sicilian Quintains

Details | February Poem | |

Summer

Hair gets lighter,
Skin gets darker,
Water gets warmer,
Drinks get colder, 
Music gets louder,
Nights get longer,
Life gets better!

Details | February Poem | |

Frozen Fingers

Frozen fingers reaching down
Silvery tips pointed toward the ground

No matter it long or short
Breath of air determines its unjointed contort

Grabbing the Sun’s light of day
Glowing and gleaming with each flickering ray

More than five fingers on its icy hand
The reach of each extended by cold wet sand

Tapping sound of drip, drip, drip
Wiggling goodbye, while releasing a tired grip


By: Richard J. Long 
February 2014

Details | February Poem | |

DEAD LOVE

I did try to let you know how much you mean to me
But I got scared and the words just won't come out so easily
I tried to express it through crappy poems and silly love songs
Wrote so much about it but something still seemed wrong
My secret love grew strong each time I fought it
It got bigger that I wondered if in my heart it would still fit
Then I decided to let you know and it wasn't easy
Coz you are a god and I am just me
I messed up with my confession
It went crazy.I couldn't find a solution
And worse you just went silent and never said anything
My heart went silent too...IT WAS SILENTLY BREAKING
It started to bleed.It was uncontrollable
The bleeding went on very unnoticeable
Until the heart stopped beating so wildly
Until the love faded and died eventually.


I just made this poem last night.

Details | February Poem | |

February

The poem is to be written by itself:
Like life looking for the trembling instant of luminescent lucidity;
Like lovable faces and the old lullaby ...
Like logarithms in a looking-glass of the same fable.
Like the old loom bringing us common recollections;
This February like a loop-hole in the winter`s wall
Is ready to give us the space where you paint the other seasons.
Facetious,facile fag running in the fair falters an old truth
About this famine of poetry whose fan you and me still are.
Fastidious February in a fashionable far-fetched fatigue
Ready to find fault with somebody else...
Feline February near the fence looks at the fireplace 
Where feelings of glass become our every day fix.
February,flabbergast us with your flag in the flavor of hope.


Details | February Poem | |

FEBRUARY'S SNOWFALL

February
sends 
down
heavy
snow
trees
seem
old
men
with
beards
as
their
tears
freeze.
Snow 
hides
Nature's
landscapes,
no
birds
dares
to
fly,
but 
they 
stay
under
gutters
dreaming
like
me
of 
spring.

Details | February Poem | |

An ode to Jenni Mann

Oh an ode to jenni mann 
To write an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann
Would be good, and proper. 
Fitting.

Fitting, not like the clothes your distant aunty gets you.
They never fit. 
Ill-fitting
Unlike writing an ode, oh an ode to jenni mann.
Fitting.

When the plutonian shores of my heart wash asunder my sadness and heart-ache at your loss
I shall endeavour to beware the boars who gnash without remorse- they do make me cross
Their eyes filled with the darkness of the Forest of Dean
But who is the Dean? The Dean of a University? A cathedral perhaps?
Or is his name simply Dean Fitting?
Fitting.

We had weed cakes. 
The amnesia induced seizure did not please ya 
Nor did it ease ya into loving me 
Perhaps if I had sherbet it'd be different.
Sherbet? or Sherbert? I'm not a gambling man
I shouldn't have left you in your seizure jenni, i shouldn't have left you
Fitting. 

Now you're dead. 
And there's no amount of sherbe(r)t in the world that can bring you back to my nest of sexual decadence
My quagmire of lust is brown and hollow - like an easter egg, only there is no joy here jenni. 
There is no fun to be had without you, all I can now do is reminisce of sherbe(r)t, boars, seizures and ill-fitting clothes
I am stuck in a perpetual state of limbo, I failed to beware the burn, I am in an ever self-sustaining maelstrom of torment and sexual grief
F*ck

I am no longer, 
Fitting. 




Details | February Poem | |

Ice Cold Out

Touching  any metal un-gloved,
Turns skin to tin, fingers on fire,
Breathing inside what’s above,
Kindles lungs to a stinging pyre.
Exhaled steam is white as a dove.
Some find refuge wearing eider attire,
But hours exposure ends the tropical cove.
After a while the icy novelty tires,
As keeping calm means the need to move.
Snowmen dread mercury higher,
For melting’s their fateful groove.
Winter’s funeral march has its criers,
But in shivering’s end there is no lost love.