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.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2011
The light is coming and I wish you well...
Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook who flies alone
Inscribing solemn circles in the sky
There is no time to take a backward look
Just running, running, running, running blind
He leaves the flowered garlands that she wove
With ribbons bright, with summer’s love, behind
He runs with only hope in empty hands
All faint of heart, with life blood running cold
The chill of winter earth beneath his feet
All water turned to ice in frozen fold
All out of breath with minutes yet to live
He runs, through elder grove and stand of yew
Runs, seeking for the ancient Solstice door
Described in tales the bards and ancients knew
‘Till suddenly he stumbles on a glade
All silent where no wild bird wheels or calls
And in the glade there stands a single stone
And on the ground a moon dark shadow falls
And there, within the shadow’s light he sees
That which before him other men have found
A stairway leading down in to the earth
A dark descending path in to the ground
No way but down now, this the only way
He gathers one last breath, and full of fear
Goes down the old and foot worn ancient steps
That lead towards the portal of the year
How dark the endless steps of winter’s stair
That shadow down, down to the Solstice door
To where, beneath the door a chink of light
Hints soft and bright across the cold stone floor
He sits upon the bottom step to rest
Reflect, and contemplate the year behind
And lo, she comes, bedecked in leaves and fruit
And dancing, dancing, through his weary mind
Forget me not, she sings; I am still here
I wait for you, for life to shift and stir
And through the keyhole and the chink there blows
A fragrant waft of birch and silver fir
Reviving, blessing, soft upon his face
The promise of new life upon her breath
Touched by her grace he weeps upon the step
For she has saved him with her love from death
Another year dies, another lives
He sits and waits; she watches from afar
And as he waits the light in darkness shifts
And creaks the ancient Solstice Door ajar…
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015
The Wisdom Of Winter
Oh the memories of Spring much more the sweeter grow,
when you are at Autumn’s end and faced with Winter’s snow.
Oh the new and budding things that make for Spring’s delight,
fast mature in Summer’s day to fade in Autumn’s night.
Oh that it was Spring again, life pulsating anew;
hope dancing in its gentle breeze and promise in its dew!
Oh that it was Spring again, I’d more the wiser be,
and linger longer on its path of sweet simplicity!
But one cannot be wise in Spring for it’s a time to dream;
and only Winter sees the truth of every season’s scheme.
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: Contest No. 242 any form any theme with max of 12 lines
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2009
The wind blows and rattles
the loose louvers of my windows.
Occasional thunder rumbles
and rain floods my garden.
How quiet is the house today
despite the crackles of burning wood.
No crying babe requires nappy change.
No tiny feet run around the rooms,
no sound of cartoons from the TV,
no rap music blares from upper rooms,
no one is at work in the kitchen
preparing milk and stews and soups.
All is deadly silence.
So I sit alone and ponder.
What do we really live for,
Now that everyone is gone?
I frown in perplexity.
I know too well about life.
It is not the here that is important,
but the eternal after.
And I am prepared for the journey.
Let winter do its worst.
I fear it not.
14 July 2016
New or Old Poems
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
I awoke to find the tall splendor of the world,
in those cosmic canyons,
shearing darkness ----
in the pallet of some ethereal night;
ancient with desire.....
to Illume the thick shadow of hades itself
Not death nor mortal doubt
couldst thou flee from me,
mighty as Aphrodite ----
Shooting thy silver smile
beautiful as heaven's promise!
In your shimmering I see hope,
for the heart which beholds thy majesty
the world could fade,
yet you remain.....
a friendly face if none should be found,
that thou Creator dost reveal;
ageless as thee
(am spun from the same loom)
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2017
As heavy frost settles 'pon the brown hill
And floats down to the level, thoughts are stilled
Words rise up to nettle but spirits thrill
Winter's north breeze meddles_ spring's buds to kill
Japanese Magnolia's buds wait until
spring's warm rains flood the earth; then sap buds fill.
Winter's pause, earth lauds rebirth, and birds' shrill
Vexing cold squads stay away and be still
At spring's rebirth be awed, winter's cold distill
Death where is resurrection's applaud, still
Waiting for spring's hallowed birth, rapture's real
Transformation follows, one's fate sealed
Not part of the poem:
There is a powerful difference in having to say something
and having something to say!!
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Interlocking Rhyme
Written: January 19,2015
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2015
Wisdom of Winter
Oh, the memories of Spring
Much more the sweeter grow,
When you are at Autumn’s end
And faced with Winter’s snow.
Oh, the new and budding things
That make for Spring’s delight,
Fast mature in Summer’s day
To fade in Autumn’s night.
Oh, that it were Spring again,
Life pulsating anew…
Hope dancing in its gentle breeze
And promise in its dew!
If only Spring could visit once again
Perhaps we’d breathe much slower…wiser be,
And linger longer on its lovely path
Of carefree, sweet and dear simplicity!
But one cannot be wise in days of Spring
For it’s a time to chase and capture dreams…
And only Winter lives to savor joys
Of every passing season’s life-filled themes.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Rock Me Around the Clock or Rock Me to Sleep—Rhythm Poems
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014
Gone are the fields of winter white
soon to be replaced by hues of greens and yellows,
in the interim, fields of barren brown and dirty gold
turned, to breathe warm air from departed winter chill
Plumes of black and gray from mans machine
kneading the back of Mother Earths desire,
before impregnating her with the many seeds
that will produce offspring to quench mans many needs
oh, how lonesome she looks, so alone
holding yet to some remnants of children past,
left only to cradle her dead, left by man
yearning to suckle new life, as only a Mother can
Above, from the heavens, Father prepares
to germinate those so many seeds,
with life sustaining necessities only he is allowed
sunlight and life giving rain, loosened from the clouds
within days Mother is impregnated
she can feel the multitudes of organic life,
moving within her womb, yearning,growing, needing
the escape, to be warmed and nourished by the Sun
Minutes turn to hours, hours to days
suddenly weeks pass,and yet another life,
giving rain, descends from guilded clouds
arms and fingers, of her children, open, sustained
nearing the end of a warm and wonderful summer
it is time for Fathers other children,
to reap what he has sewn
time for Mother Earth to let her children go
My, how they have grown, tall,lush and full
of the fruit they were meant to bear,
to provide nourishment for the masses of seeds
grown to maturity, in need from the father
Again, the gray black plumes of mans machine
come to life, they move through her fields,
her children, like a predator among prey
until, she is left again, with remnants of children past
Soon she will be blanketed again in winter white
gone will be the warm breath of life,
her children taken from her, she is again barren
only to be betrothed to a promise of new life.
I wrote this on a day trip to Illinois from Iowa across wide open farm land.
Copyright © Richard Pickett | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
Walking down old familier streets
On such a beautiful day
The first day of winter
Clear and serene
With a cool subtle breeze
After the rains, they have all gone away
White floating clouds, scattered amid the sky
With its sunshine, piercing through the trees
Radiant; enchanting; like crowns of light
Down Echo Avenue I stroll, once again of course
Kimala, life, more....
Near the corner of Elizabeth
I suddenly stop and I turn
Looking back toward Pacifica
Trying to touch, what once was mine
The whistle of a train, begins to sound in the distance
And in that moment; this moment, for an instant
I feel the rush of love, flowing upon my heart!
I turn back around
And I look ahead....
And it hits me, it hits me
How wonderful; how amazing
Life, and all of its moments, its seasons, and its years
Because of others; because of "God"
Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2010
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
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2012
Snowflakes fell, large and wet,
On that early morning in December
Our country home was soon enfolded
In winter's cold, white mantle
The noonday sun parted the somber clouds
With rays smiling and bright
It seemed to be saying...
"That's enough snow...for now"
Mother walked along the silent path
To where the mail was waiting
She paused for a moment and smiled
The untouched landscape, glittering white before her
Awoke the child within her heart
She began to play
Soon the beginnings of a snowman
Rested at her feet
My father watched the scene unfold
Through the bedroom window
His eyes glittered as brightly as the snow
A smile creased his face
And a chuckle escaped his lips
This picture is etched forever
In the corners of my heart
Forever I will see her there playing in the snow
Forever I will see him broadly smiling at her delight
Forever I will see them both so completely full of joy
So full of life
So full of love.
Copyright © Steven Mossburg | Year Posted 2010
The treetops quivered as the cold wind howl’d,
the snowflakes forming a blanket of white.
The winter birds shivered, the branches bow’d,
nature’s force in the darkness of the night.
Fierce was the northern winter, pure white snow
covered the fields and the hills, and the lakes.
In the horizon the northern lights glow,
night turns into dawn and the morn awakes.
Nature’s wrath calms with new life emerging,
accepting in it’s nurture a newborn,
return‘d to the world, a new life searching,
for a place, a time, beauty to adorn.
It is a miracle of life immense,
to start a journey with pure innocence.
Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2015
Scrumptious sight of prairies and grass
Ardent beaming of flower buds and buzzing bees
Leafless coils, branches of trees become alive
Hastening! Arousing everyone's joy and vive
Everyone happy on cheerful springtime!
A cotillion trips and chirps of jolly birds
From some distance, I have started to heard
Fantastic shun and kisses of pretty butterflies
Tempting all species of flora and fauna to thrive
Welcoming, beckoning the heat of summertime!
First crisp of breeze, creating dew in morning
Canopy of red and orange leaves from branches, enchanting!
Turning the world into a canvass of nature's brush
Unnoticeable, such romantic dash making anyone blush
Revel, embrace the sweet amorous season of autumn!
Solid chilling raindrops of snowflakes
Giving warning: careful during breaks
Covering branches, bringing icy cold aches
Yet, skiing an exhilarating cool escape
Delight in the coolness ambiance of winter!
CONTEST: MEMORIES ON BRANCHES
SPONSOR: GAIL ANGEL DOYLE
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014
She is shadowed by fuzzy cobwebs of a morning without coffee,
while dust motes mingle with the mold of time.
Gazing out to the yard, through dingy glass, and fog,
into a dismal January, she hopes to catch a glimpse of the paper boy.
He travels through rain, sleet or snow, how could he understand,
(this teen-aged Paul Revere), that in this decrepit old house,
she is longing for a sign of youth? It has been a weary night, watching an old woman hang on by threads of life, that had worn thin years ago.
Watching and waiting, while cold winds blew and snow was falling,
and death was hoping to make a house call.
Any diversion, life being lived,... one brief eclipse of life in motion would be a relief.
To observe him toss the news into the sky like a Frisbee... not a care in the world
How would that feel...has she ever known? Has anyone ever been so young?
She thinks she may go mad with death and dying, with weariness, with waiting.
She suddenly shivers from a dreaded draft of frigid air, slithering in,
like a sneaky, uninvited ghost, slinking in around the rim.
nor'easter winds roll top shoe box...
splinter the silence.. -- debutante' caught in amber
a cataract view frozen sepia
Grabbing a handful of a thread-bare doily, she polishes the cold glass,
rubbing vigorously in circles against the grime,
making figure eights, in spite of frozen, stiff, fingers.
Satisfied, that she has a decent view of the blanketed yard,
and can see clearly where the muddy, gravel driveway,
bends gradually, curving to mate with the snow banked road,
at last, she spies the old Jeep coming, and watches with automated eyes,
yet, with some expectation, and strange excitement.
Then, as she might have guessed,
the teenager drives hurriedly by, barely slowing down, tossing the news,
and leaving her gaze and her thoughts, splattered by dark murky water,
while the slinging gravel that has been pitched into the sky, by his screeching tires,
falls like the pieces of the old woman's lonely life upon the pristine snow.
For Deb's Contest: "Mix It Up"
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
the sounds of wilderness
life never makes a mess
the shadows of the trees
be moving with the breeze
in the winter cold
it won't be as bold
but now the sun is here
life goes on without fear
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2016
Snow sprinkles the ground
as delicate as sugar
crystallizing the exterior with a romantic heritage
only found in the heart of a child's imagination.
Like happiness it can melt in your hands,
and like happiness it can grow bitter like the ice you slip on
Forming miraculously to the curves of the earth
hugging till the land soaks in it's providence
white like the pages I battle with
Falling so passionately you'd think it was falling in love with the ground
And when it lands,
A blanket of perfection
glistening the season to a crisp
gently the sun arises
"there's no where to go today,
I'm just going to sit and enjoy the magic."
Copyright © Madison Caldwell | Year Posted 2013
My heart is the same full of love
My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
The hair of gray and wrinkles reign
I set the table full of food
For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
When changes prepare for winter
I'm not sure I'll know winter now
For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
Where beauty glows bright from the depths
Producing leaves of many hues
Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
I think that when winter comes cold
Plants freeze if left out in weather
They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
There's time to prepare room somehow
I still watch the birds from window
They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
Soon most will be gone for winter
Winter soon will approach with cold
Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
There are few thoughts of approaching winter
But when winter comes my way
The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
On another day I'll be called by trumpet away
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
My autumn wine; white winter rose
Please tell me how your garden grows?
I’ve lost my touch, I feared as much
You are fragile and it shows
Can I still call upon you?
With no words ever spoken to you?
And would you come to me?
Could you hear me in a dream?
Would you “sense” me if I came close,
But not in sight of you eyes?
Would you tempt me if giving up hope
Could cleanse me of all the lies?
I survive through a disguise
Designed to hide my immortal light
You will never see it
For I am a chameleon
Crawling through the ancient garden
The (other) not known as Eden
For it has no name to keep it safe
Until light shines on this darkened place
“April showers bring May flowers”
And so your flower has not yet soured
You still have the power to reverse your desires
My white winter rose, will you grow any higher?
Prosper or wither
The choice is now yours
Bound or severed
I’ve done all I could
Copyright © Jackie Bosworth | Year Posted 2009
The ice sheets on lakes are slowly thawing;
the sight resembles a glass separating
the water world from the dry world.
Green is gradually dominating the white
that covered the trees.
Snowmen are slowly disappearing,
melting away into the earth.
Icicles glitter like diamonds in the faint
sunlight, glowing in the midst of clouds.
Legends about snow monsters and snow people
are losing taste to children;
they want stories about mysteries
that spring carry with it.
Earth oozes with the scent of rebirth.
Easter bunnies are appearing everywhere
in the shops,
their Easter eggs surpassing chicken eggs
We are in Winter and Spring...
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2016
Winter was given us that we may stay close to our hearts
and listen with more than our ears, as the bells of our life ring
Neither distance nor strife can ever keep our souls apart.
Our names are carried on the wild winds that winters bring
Remember and remember, for the winter dove still sings..
For all those who can't be with loved ones
for the holidays ahead
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2010
First of all I am going to tell you a story about the four seasons,
winter summer spring and fall,
Its a story not to forget at all and it is easy to remember that
Fall is a season that likes it cool, the nice wind blowing as all the leaves make sounds as they hit the ground,
And Winter it's a season of snow with the frosty nicknames that everyone knows.
And Summer is the hotest season of all,bringing up the heat so much you wish it was still fall.
Now spring is the prettyest season I have seen, where everything is blooming and growing green.Its a season where all the birds start singing cause of the joy they have had with winter,summer, spring, and fall....
Copyright © Jane Kostman | Year Posted 2012
A man’s chilled hands
In the depths of darkness...
Candle is shining
She approaches him, warming him up inside by holding him close to her. She tells him, “My love for you is stronger than the winter; no frigid air will hold you down and make you weak.” He smiled at her and simply replied, “I know our love is stronger than the freezing days of winter, we can exist in a higher plane and still be warm throughout. We just need to be in close proximity to physically be warm together.” With this she held his hands and he warmed up to be at her level of fire burning inside her.
She warmed his hands
Sure melted all the ice off...
Entrant into Debbie Guzzi's "Mix It Up" contest
Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
A cuddlesome babe when
The norther came
Mama pulled over a blanket on her face,
Ducked her own snooded head
Walked toward home
Off to school another day,
Another norther slashed her tender legs,
Shirley Temple curls blew wildly,
She learned her abc's.
Another norther another time,
She held hands with her football player,
Northers' winds unfelt,
She was in love.
A mother now, she cups another,
A cuddlesome babe in pink,
Pulling a blanket over her tears,
She drives a car to chocolate.
Northers came and northers went,
And bitter winter winds,
She's a babe again,
Winter winds can't blow on her.
And she sleeps to their singing
Dreams of blossoms and springs,
Sweet water-flowing springs,
Winter winds making music.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2016
Hindered by depth and breadth of winter
Blocked doors and windows on the cabin cliff remote
Imprisoned by three feet of snow and all those inches
Piling up outside, no where to go
Pines cling to memory of icicles below the tundra line
Like all good trees they freeze but never die
Over sleeping kept me from hunting deer
The realization of how quickly drifts can rise
Shear numbers of snow flakes conspiring
Cruel nature with wind and sky to hold me in
Now stuck inside the simple shelter fixed
Riffle and ammo sitting useless by the common fire place
No chasing prey this season, no reason to shoot the snow
It would only blow around and settle somewhere else
Winter bound, oats are my only sustenance, companion
Along with tea and lemon, not exactly the best of company
But will see me through, till things turn about
Closed in times advance
I become a captive audience of one
The only show in town watched now in wonder
On snowy mountain counting down the hours
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2016
Warm clothing in mystifying layers
Portrait painted by mist and light
Naked branches catch the sun
Ice crunches underfoot
Noisy crows protest
Breath ghostly white
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2008
I do not know?
Wait til winter comes
I’ll be bundled in velvet again
And softer than you’ve ever seen me
If my eyes are watering
The wind will wipe it away
And if I shiver uncontrollably
A cozy blanket of frost
Will surely wrap me in its warmth
You never held me like the wind does
You never even tried
Copyright © Ashley Daly | Year Posted 2005
as silently as sleep
between the wind and windowpane
melt their way to sill
polished chrome darkness shivers
ankle deep in frost
night’s breath spills
along the frozen glass
its silver shadow rolls
and condenses with the dawn
written in blue mercury
trickles down my windowpane
in the light of a new day
Copyright © Forrest Pasky | Year Posted 2016
~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
I am naked now, my limbs are bare
A chill blows through me during the night air
No one notices me, children do not climb
I stand still hoping not to lose a branch of mine
No green, no orange, no red I am just grey
This season I do not like because of being this way
Soon the sun will begin to show
My little buds of color start to glow
Encircled by luscious green grass I will be
Seasons are my life, this next one I like.
©Holly P. Moore
Copyright © HOLLY MOORE | Year Posted 2013