Sorrow flows from the first sunrise
Eyes deeper than winter and rainfall
A painful combination never felt before
At core death awaits
- laughing while she begs for clemency!
In her eyes, fault is found in every sunset
- after coming down from cloud nine.
Impossible to move --- her body stiffen
That very moment, A precious Waltz - Expired!
Coldplay and winter mist set in
Ruins of love clinch an endless echo
- taunting the very merry memory.
The auditory sensation of broken trust
- stride across the way.
Icing every thought in a sullen, cold rink.
She fell - She crumbled
- In a world where hope once existed
Today, she will sway alone without a lullaby
In a room with no warmth
One time a sweet symphony, now a sour moon
At last, a different tune begins to fiddle
As she grooms the icicles in her room.
On every mid-moon, she stares and stares
towards the old shriveled lipstick on his pillow
Unseen coldness, unsatisfied, incomplete tears
She can feel the complete braille of hate
--- cascade around the emptiness
Throughout her poise frostbite travels in
Midnight Summer dreams are near an end
Autumn bones covered by winter sleet
A deadly force condemns all because of one
Lost years crumbled like an avalanche
Way deep down inside.......
She paints the rain like no other heartache
Leaving winter residue behind every step
"Black Ice" sits close to the cold canvas on her pale
If you seek closely, she is there
Immobilized in a waltz, in a waltz, in a waltz
Never to linger or trust
The "HE" that spoke of love, then melted away
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
"What happens in the forest stays in the forest"
The trees are trimmed,
The leaves on the ground
Proposing passion, sweet mist
Naked with nothing to bare or wear
Nature's breath lightens the atmosphere
She breathes in, he breathes out
The auditory sensation of rain
- drums down and deepens
The course is near its end,
Deep in this forest night
A Gentleman among the trees,
Hibernating new seeds
"On the other side of the forest"
He guides a path, with ebony eyes
A convincing vent, I accept
The fear is broken, I sleep in glee
The whispers disappear
Drying in peace by the secret bayou
Broad leaves lay under raw landscape
Lulled by the chills he quills
A quarter past midnight
- prepares the new sheets of Winter.
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015
Wintry white wisps wondrously whirl
Soft sparkling snowflakes silently swirl
Coolly carpeting countrysides carefully
Dazzling diamonds dancing delightfully
Submitted Contest forms A contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
28th December 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
shake salt slow so she see's slick snow
Copyright © Harley Green | Year Posted 2011
~FALLING, without winter wings~
My mind sometimes goes there, somewhere, nowhere,
amongst the shooting shining stars, floating like in a womb, yet not afraid,
free falling flakes, weightless – wondering why, where
from the highest branch I lost my grip gasping, grasping
and tumbling hopelessly DOWN AND DOWN DEEP… into the unknown
DOWN AND DOWN DEEP, I allowed myself to fall like a raindrop,
landing a little like winter, holding my breath, above the mountaintop,
a tremble brought about by the breeze, losing myself completely,
Wandering in welters of wasted words, into the fire of all my torrid tears,
I slip into despair into the cold, a chilling fall, after LETTING GO…
LETTING GO was the hard part, the horrid heartbreak, it always will be.
We had climbed so high, so high we had to come down
and as we stumbled we slipped we slid, slowly away from one another
because we had lost ourselves, our own identities.
My journey now must be to like -- LOVE MYSELF AGAIN.
LOVE MYSELF AGAIN, a never-ending task.
Holding on to what was and always will be a falling star.
Wishing, the wind would lift us up and put us back were we belong.
Sinking, dipping, dropping, and drowning with the sea,
A path I seek when I find myself losing grip of reality.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Sun beams like Hot Choclate on a blue day...
Soft silky and smooth on your skin...
Butterflies softly floating like falling feathers in the wind...
Gently gliding gracefully over the bright green grass...
Eyelashes brush against your cheek like soft snowflakes on your face...
Fingertips flit freely across your arm...
Together playfully prancing like horses running wild...
Spinning tops twiling tenderly....
Wishes whispered wimsically like pixies playing hopscotch...
Softly calling quietly,
I love you!
Copyright © Desvin Umberger | Year Posted 2013
I held my breath to protest the gloom of winter's frosted sprawl.
There, the eloquence of nature was surveiled as it flourished.
It became more than just a vested visit camouflaged among
Spring had lastly met winter's boasting at the gates of ultimate
Frosted glory. No more everlasting punishing winds freezing pains
And flagrant frozen flurries favored at the forefront of winter's
Cool arrogant accusations.
Nature bought and brought the best of spring thirsty and bursting
Onto the scene with peacock feathers and much fanfare. There,
The awaited train. The arrival caused heaven's screams. It's
Survival meant more to dream. Spring was everything.
The gates were thawed, the sprawl ignored all were invited to the
Ball. Finally, a grin as winter has set. It's WRATH has passed.
Spring bloomed and new was BEAU. I exhaled
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015
slowly suddenly and then without warning it crosses us and blankets our world it turns the stunning orb into a hollow sphere dull and dead and nothing is seen just bleak dark black its there its lasting the silence never to end
the day slows to a standstill and goes backward
the noises about come to a close
the shades begin to venture
the bleak blacks cross the clouds
the sky is blanketed and choked out
the sun has fled
the day has left
the night is here
the silence is everywhere
Copyright © Jayce Collazo | Year Posted 2013
I’m still in the memories of the frost of twelve
I always think how amazing your ideas are
With your wonderful smile
you can heal all my scars
You are my angle with angle eyes
and those angle lips I love to kiss
I’ve never seen a liaison like this
A girl like me and a guy like you
The night of cold winter when you
hugged me in the blanket so tight
It felt so complete and so right
I felt the warmth of your body
and this beautiful relation
I wish to give you the same
warmth the same affection
I looked at the hills intently
from the balcony of our hotel room
I was seeing the plants and the shrubs bloom
That frizzy morning I got up early
scanning your face all over
Don’t ask me why? I have no answer
Baby, do you remember the night
we walked through the dark place
I was holding your hand
and in the dim moonlight I could see your face
Now the wintry memories will
always stay with me at any pace
Copyright © Kiran Bisht | Year Posted 2014
WEATHERING THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT
In this, the death prone winter of our discontent,
the world lay languishing from mitotic chaos
and malignant uncertainty---spreading a pandemic
cancer of destruction over the body of our moral humanity.
Infected rebirth cells of ancient crusade history
scatter world wide---blown like dry leaves
in chilling winds of cold war seasons.
Here, in the frozen season of time, Armageddon
stalks democracy in the chilled midnight hour;
while in the twilight of the eve of destruction,
world watchers waddle the time away: constructively
engaged in spotlight moments of warming scenes.
With a bloody but unbowed head, let not our world wallow wearily
in the mirage of winter’s defeat; nor allow her frigid blast
to shatter the bruised reed of hope or out the burning wick of love.
Let us stare adversity in the eye, rekindling the spirit of unity;
let us refashion the crumbled, rejected stones of our moral society;
we building a new and better world where we hold it to be self evident:
peace---perfect peace, is the dominant ethos of our recaptured humanity.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015
Whispering winds of winter woe,
icy branches bend and bow,
catfish cradled in the mud,
winter waters slow their blood.
Scampering squirrels, fat & fluffed,
chasing, leaping, playing rough,
the birds are bent on staying warm,
surround the suet in a swarm.
Babs and Buster, canine friends,
stalk the squirrels who torture them,
they snort and sniff at gopher holes,
tormented by these mining moles.
In the western window, warm,
the felines flourish through the storm,
soon the sunshine's streaming in,
thus the cooking of cats begin.
Cloaked and covered, in cozy coats,
we wait for Spring with hallowed hopes,
to lay upon the dock again
and feel the sunshine bake our skin.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2009
*smiling slightly sad Colibri said: 'are you happy today, my dear? ' 'average… i am… just average'
answered her combustive Lizard the wizard from white blizzard airily framed by invisible flames.
'i thought u like life in extreme!' told obviously surprised Squirrel, flocculent parallel world beauty
in sorrel colored winter apparel. 'indeed, i needed that before!! i have been on the sunny ridge
and then in cold wet dark ditch. i have been crossing sky freely, other times – just like partridge
injured by a merciless cartridge i tasted my own blood willingly: because pain seemed pleasure.
burned enough but not to pitch. abridged but still not a smidge. average… i am just… average!
peaceful like a tortoise who is not making unnecessary noise. happy with calm daily routines
proceeding speed of rising Sun and determination of a Sprout. i will not shout i won’t use gun:
all is well– simply as it is… now!' Queen colibri, Wizard of lizards & tender Goddess of squirrels:
beings, not known to outsiders they were sharing same cup full of abundant life mysteries with
each other at present moment– with eye to eye circumspection, mind to mind interconnections,
direct heart to heart reflections resounding in supportive chords. we will not know how much we
changed each other, how much we will… when time will tell us we’ll walk separated path again*
Lizard, Colibri and Squirrel… all with unique ails but common fairy tails
Copyright © salamandra Gabija | Year Posted 2016
Silver sender winter's GLAZE.
Sun style fun shine, gentle rays.
Bit of light.
Snowman built on top THE hill.
Happens DAYS AND DAYS.
Happily snowy blowing craze
This SEASON'S CHRYSTAL phase.
Lofty softy covering Of winter's white.
So Sun satuated a sleek Saturday's
Cold and gleeful LAUGHS
First part of winter fun
With sled and winter TOYS sliding gliding
With cold and golden frozen SUN.
Fluff and huff and BLOWING stuff.
PILGRIMAGES made for the fun of it
Snowflakes and FROZEN faces soaked in
Cold sport and PLAY.
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2016
Whispers to her,
The warm rots.
Beauty of art,
Falls onto the window,
In all shape; touching the heart,
Flying down in a flow.
With hats on all,
The cities bright,
Thick coats in the hall,
No people in sight.
For it's winter time,
The MidWest is cold,
Making love music rhyme,
Keeping loved ones close;hold.
Streets are a fluff,
Driving slow in caution for all,
Children play rough,
Down the hills they fly so tall.
Snowflakes make snowmen,
Snomen make friends,
As the birds fly by towards the wren,
The weather lends.
But hold each moment close,
For seasons come and go,
Imagine a place of prose,
Now sit back and enjoy the snow.
Copyright © Stacey Behal | Year Posted 2012
Waves wash up ,
Palms paper the sky ;
Indulging impossible bliss ,
Flakes fall freely
White Window displays wishing ,
grass greener on that side,
likewise, the flip side applies
Not natural? No never!
Wicked grins, warm weather;
I give up gloves gleefully ,
Scarves ,snow, seasonal
Wouldn't want it any other way;
Better ,basking , baking,
Sunglasses, slightly sun-kissed
Warm Winter Holidays
Copyright © Melani Udaeta | Year Posted 2011
Snowbound snowflakes sneakily snip and snick the snowy snickering air.
Copyright © Aaron Fletcher | Year Posted 2016
Definitely dealing delicately in dense danger.
Peculiarly perplexing poking pioneers of pride.
And catching coding cautions
When windy weather was wasted warming
Worries with a whistle when we were
Watching winter sizing by.
Then there's the spring of things when it comes.
Every floral pattern that exist your thinking
Pastels, every lavender laughs hilariously
Every yellow yelling yes, yippi!! That's the
Thought. Twist thrice, then twice. Toward
Thursday thirsting for more.
Be at ease. Winter's worries waring
Wound and wounded ready to be astounded.
You have found it.
My wounded heart made of art.
The cause is in store, instead forge ahead.
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2017
How dainty and shy is she
She is even ever so, she warms the soul.
If you do handle her, handle with carefulness.
If she is approachable at all.
Sweet and delicate a flower
With a winter strength of gold
So I suppose she knows her
This rose is so admired and LONELY
On winters dance floor.
For none other grows at the frigid
Cusp of this season except this rose
Watch her in the most frosted temperatures,
She hoards the empathy of passing strangers
On their way to festive affairs.
What a dizzying fanciful dessert
Any and every heart would dote deliriously
One of life's priorities, this golden rose
Rosy, rosier, rosiest
Every other rose knows
Fancies her, most fanciest, she's fancier
With her white snowflake dress
The most alluring. The golden quiet
Queen knowing her pose and poise
With silent rejoice.
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2017
Winters' wandering within
wicked waves of worsening weather.
Wildly whipping winds
whistling through windchimes
Women wrapped in wreaths
of wool or, if rich,
cashmere coated against
the avalanche of chill
around corners marching,
counting with a
to ensure a regimen
regardless of winters' waft.
Snow softly swirling
through the thermal drafts
not ready to land yet.
Not really stuck ...
Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2007
Pennine grey day
worst of mist
dog to walk
drib and drab
slapping of sleet
face full of ice
gale of hail
slog through fog
hate the peat
sponge of gunge
mush and sludge
mulch of mire
water all over
stand in pond
feel the chill
squelch and spill
feet raw meat
dog a wet rag
race from place
slip on slime
found dry ground
rock-pile and stile
bleak of peak
see mile on mile
trail down hill
return to town
tired we trudge
last of mist
by our log fire
sip some Scotch
time to reflect
Pennine grey day
Copyright © Tony Hargreaves | Year Posted 2017