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Epic Snow Poems | Epic Poems About Snow

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

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Details | Ballad |

Crying River

Crying River (The Untold Ballad) 

Undercover waters of rain dash
Cold children, no smiling splash
Tragic sobs, epic force of the mountain rain
Beautiful as it may seem -shallow basin 

She cries a tune, 
Mocking the Maple lands, a beautiful tune
Crooked Cornwall, she steams with the moon
Oceanic dreams, monsoon season, she swoon's
Frozen, dead, ice skating rink
Her wind, Pretty Chains O Lake 
Wet and Wild, the Elk drinks from her garden
Water falls from the lids of Jordan
Beautiful as it may seem with open curtain

When the ocean succeeds away from the sea
She's wide awake during winter's rain and breeze
Lost in the mud's of Bellaire's heartache,
River Blues, ice cold snap, bayou stirring up
Racing rivers crying by the western gutter
Silent, bells chime in the Black Mallard waters
Streams, blowing and drying dew droplets
Little rapid tears, everything spotless
Sugar, Swan waves down by Devils Creek
Listen to the thunder bay rolling deep
Beautiful as it may seem, she weeps

A northern world with streaks of falling rain
Pretty running white hair pane
A weather vane, snow dangles above her domain 
Beautiful crying winds
In the Eyes of Michigan


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration |

The Forest

"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 
Mr Romantic
   - prepares the new sheets of Winter. 


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |


White Devil

Call it what you want!
I call it, his favorite season hunt...
Two hoofs imprinted near the riverfront.
Echoes calling my soul with a loud, ferocious grunt.

I smell it in the air, lost upon the white golden stair.
A deep frost dwelling all over his lair.
Tangled by the frozen grip of my hair.
A decision, I declare to give what he won't spare.

This man has no red suit..
Lurking in the white to recruit.
A midnight suicide clouding me with pollute.
I pause my tongue on mute, lost in a white castle chute.

Headed straight into a shivering blazing star path.
The land of snow covered like a bubble bath.
Breaking icicles like crystal glass, suck3d by the milky-way mass.
Multiplying bruises like a cascade, enjoying the aftermath. 

Finding a way to slit the pain in my domain.
I grab a coat and lace my name to Mary-Jane.
Inserting the finest line to ease the drain in my brain.
I drink the icy scotch, and drop a silver nickel into the devils cocaine.

Fallen in to his bait, its too late, I got 7 lines on my dinner plate.
I'm covered up in snow, enjoying the amazing way to suffocate.
Eight beats to every minute is my new heart rate.
I'm reaching for the white golden gate, where the white devil waits.

Drowning like liquor in a frappe mixing the winter's high tide.
Death to my soul is where I hide under this white blanket neutral side.
Too heavy to uplift this storm lost in the devil's cold custard suicide guide.
Waking up in a coma, in a world where white collides with the rage of suicide.

 (( Trapped in a snowy blizzard))

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Epic |

SnOw SNoW snOw

 *Sno*W S*noW * SNO*W*

snowflakes on my tongue
snowball splat on my jacket
icy game of fun
**wonderland of snow**
shiver me timber
once upon a green, white end
icicle cascade
**A gem of snow**
silent of beauty
pearly blanket, wet sparkle
nice hibernation 
**Snow Angel**
winters treasure chest
body print engraved in ice
wings for an angle
cold winter weather 
zero below temperature
frosty the snowman
a lifetime of Wait
it's awkward to see snowflakes 
Texas miracle

Contest: SNOW

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Epic |

One Winter's Night

I stood on the balcony one night,
The land was bathed in luminous light,
The air was filled with winter's chill,
Frost had covered the window sill.

I stared into the sky above,
My heart had swelled full of love,
The galaxy glowed with bright stars,
Lights so heavenly, from afar.

The night shone bright on every hill,
Yet, everything was quiet and still,
Through the valley no wind did blow,
The little village blanketed in snow.

What joy the Yule is going to bring,
At the break of dawn, the town will sing,
Making this, one eve to remember,
On one magical night of December.

But, in this fantasy land it is late,
And this seasonable panorama is great,
I want to take this long walk alone,
Through unchanging scenery, I wander from home.

I'll take a candle to light my way,
Upon the ice, I could walk until day,
I made it up a deep, glittering bank,
In the glistening snowflakes, my feet sank.

A million diamonds now covered the land,
I pulled my mittens on, over my hands,
The snow could never melt in this cold,
The Northern degrees of stories once told.

I will enjoy the winter as in days of old,
The still photographs of the past unfold,
A thermometer shows the drop of degrees,
The thaw of the snow I hope not to see.

Mirrored is my reflection along the river,
Quartz crystals of ice, makes me shiver,
Icicles hang from a cabin, near the woods,
Silently, wolves and elk in the forest, stood.

Reindeer and rabbits run through the snow,
A memorable sight in the lovely moon's glow,
An owl calls out from high in a tree,
Imagine all this, as a keepsake to see.

Tomorrow the snow will make the children sing,
To the hills, a toboggan they will bring,
Soon, we will hear his sleigh bells ring,
And, all the Christmas bells will be jingling!

Written by : Kelly Deschler
For Leonora Galinta's contest - Christmas Epic

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |

survival : epic contest

The snow mobile stops and sinks to the level of the snow, no more to go
Which way do I take for shelter the sure or the maybe
Deciding on a surety hoped the 200 miles was the best option …  but how
can I survive this,  gathering the necessities in a bag light enough to carry
leaving a note on the  vehicle I start my journey slowly   

snow shoes aren’t easy to manoeuvre when you’re tired and afraid
must gain ground by nightfall a shelter of snow  to make.
Plenty of boiled water to keep me going today, but hunger tangs can’t be laid
Food:  I must make a hole to fish, a fire to make and that shelter to build    

I cut blocks of snow and make a shelter for the night
Had means of lighting a fire to give the bears a fright, cut a hole to fish
Am sitting here like a child with stick and string hoping for a bite
A great big tug tells me one is here, I pull with my might to land it near.
Hit its head to kill him with ease, I cut up and cook enough to please….

Suddenly I hear a whimpering noise I look up to see
A husky type dog looking at my tea, I throw it some fish didn’t touch the sides
As with a big gulp was soon in his insides,  then he laid down close to me
Sharing my water and fish and the fire …..    

Weird sounds of nature all through the night
My sleep was shallow as I worked out my plans
Had an early fish breakfast then started to walk
Had a companion with me didn’t feel so alone on these many days
Looked for berries  not the white ones am told…will
Keep up my strength until I get home…..

The greenery I am advised are precarious to devour
Best keep to fish and berries a little every hour
Oh my what’s this lumbering this towards us
A bear ,  a black one,  pulled my anorak over my head, I pray
Arms akimbo so I looked huge and made very noisy yells, bear walked away

A trappers hut smoke I can see, hope he will be as pleased to see me

Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2016

Details | Epic |

Dead Winter

The path was long and winding; the snow falling, not making a sound.
His hands thrust deep in his pockets.
He hated being here with the wind howling all around.
His fingers clasping a golden locket.

The snow made it hard for him to see.
The ice wanted to freeze his tears.
He didn’t think he could stand this pain.
They had been together so many years.

The trees met overhead, the snow had difficulty getting through.
He didn’t find relief though; the wind cut like a knife too.
She was dead. he had to accept it and the time of year was here.
How many had it been he didn’t know, but it was definitely more than a year.

It was here again, and it was a night like this, fighting the falling snow.
She told him it was over on this very spot, where their love did grow.
The fight they had it was vile, he could not stop, and she pulled away.
She tried to run, he could see in her eyes, but then he made her stay.
He grabbed at her, the necklace broke and she let out a cry.
His fingers clasped the knife handle, even though he didn’t know why. 

It suddenly flashed as though with a life of its own, and the snow at her feet went red.
He looked at her beautiful body lying there, and he knew that second she was dead.
He came back every year, always surprised, that they had never found her
When there she was standing, beckoning him, the snow swirling around her.
He rushed to where she stood; he knew the spot so well.
Her arms were open wide, his breath seemed to stop, his chest began to swell.

Was this forgiveness, was this release, would he now be able to sleep?
She was here, his mind he thought he was losing; he might be able to keep.
He held out the necklace, still with the broken chain.
She wrapped her arms around him and they were suddenly one again.

His feelings, were in turmoil, he didn’t know how this could be
Then he felt his blood begin to boil, and surround him like a red sea.
Her smile was wide; an icicle glinted as it entered his heart so deep
She said you are with me now, but I promise you will never sleep.

Entry for Dead winter Written  By: Mandy Tams

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ballad |


On sunlit wings 
I travelled 
High above the earth, 
in the realm of spiritual beings 

Mighty mountains 
and cool streams 
Azure oceans 
I live my dreams 
I live my emotions 

I am but a feather, 
beginning to fly 
My body 
My heart, 
carried high 

Clouds of purest snow 
Golden sun 
I passed below 

Another day, 
in the blue 
You could have it too 
Come up if you may 

Circles of eagles, 
in the blue 
You are all with me too 
High above, 
clouds of purest snow 
Together we flew 

Such love, 
in such golden light 
Circles of eagles, 
above clouds of purest white 

The higher I flew 
I met people I lost too 
My father, 
wings aglow 
Beside me, 
golden bright 
Circles of eagles 
High in the light 

A spiritual place, 
high above 
Touching space 
Such love, 
in golden light 
Circles of eagles, 
in flight 

Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |


Against the pale October Moon, a lone howling cuts
Through the chill of the winter’s night, gleaming yellow
Green eyes flash in the forests wilderness wild.
Sleek mystic swift of feet, white powder chameleons,
Living by the creed of basic instinctual desire to survive,
In this harsh environment of the Rocky Mountains.
By the flight of the morning blue jay, spooked from his
Perches vantage point on high, the pack hunts in the
Deep valleys thickening glen.
Snow wolves on the prowl, seeking freedoms liberation
By tooth and claw, but these are beasts of the free spirit,
Out laws nomads, wondering where the restless heart so
Leads them.
Beguiling creatures of beauty, representing the raw
Force of power of the untamed soul, roughed individuals,
Stalkers of the ice and snow.
Spiritual brethren to the tribal Indians are these
Sacred guardians of the great spirits creation, darned
With mutual respect and admiration honor, let them
Roam freedom’s path forever.
Symbolic warriors under the skin and fur, does the animal
Run beside the human hidden within the shadow realm of realism.
Echoing in the distance, with a chilling presence that
Crawls up the neck bone of mankind, announcing,
Erriely, of the hunger driving them in silence.
Nature’s selectors, weaving the weak from the strong,
Legacies ancestral brave, soldiers of canines pack,
Living on the edge of extinction mighty wrath.
But looking into the eyes of the beast, one can only
See the beauty of a wild creature, whom wishes to remain
As he was born to be, simply put FREE!!


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic |

Change Of Seasons

The earth slips into a deep sleep
all beneath its surface now dormant
sleepy animals curled up in their dens
soon to fall into the sleep of hibernation
all now slowed down awaiting the snows
trees now denude of their canopy of leaves

Jack Frost comes creeping with icy fingers
covering everything in stark bright white
hoar frost, branches sparkling with icicles
softly, come the first snows just a sprinkle
a promise of more, laden sullen skies above
in the morning, a world of brilliant white

Fresh and crisp unmarked by human tracks
just the odd three toed marks of birds
deer trails pass through so distinct
the flash of colour from Red Robin's beast
drifts of snow, some very deep lie in wait
for unwary travelers tempting with beauty 

Slowly, oh so slowly the thaw arrives
everywhere a-run with water trickling
now appears the odd patch of faded green
Winter releases her hold with reluctance
fighting to the end, then slips away
leaving Spring to awaken the land with warmth

Now the birds are busy, gathering the twigs
also moss and feathers with some sheep's wool
busily building nests all shapes and sizes
the males preening and showing off to hens
fighting for the rights of lady and territory
the winner, the one who's chicks will be born

Leaves unfurling on the trees reaching out 
sun bathed they quickly grow and bush up
to give shelter to birds and tender plants 
bulbs now pushing up snowdrops appearing
followed by gay crocus and waving daffodil
finally come the roses, tulips and lupines

All now a splash with colour gleaming in the sun
Summer has arrived with her hot sultry heat
languidly the breezes flow over the landscape
an earth that is now ablaze with vibrant greens
emerald vieing with turquoise, lime and pea green
scarlet beside pink and red, a vision of beauty
pure white of daisies and yellow petals of roses

Too soon, far too soon slowly the nights lengthen
a chill is felt in the air as daylight fades away
leaves start to turn to various shades of brown
then giving up their grip are carried by the wind
plump apples fill the orchards they taste so sweet
corn and other crops are now ready for the harvest

Bare trees now greet us as the days shorten quickly
Autumn drifts gently in, time to light the log fires
to tuck one's self up with a book and mug of cocoa
ponder on the year gone by, the highs and the lows
the cycle of seasons complete for yet another year 
life reaffirmed and ready to face whatever is ahead

written 11/26/2013 by Shadow Hamilton
contest Impress me sponsor Giorgio
I went with epic motif

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |

Survival In The Alaskan Wilderness

 I was out hunting; quite often alone for short distance.  Driving the snowmobile can take me many miles away from the house in just a few minutes.  The walk towards home would be very long, and if I were hurt and could not walk back it could be a personal disaster.

 I always carried a variety of safety equipment and gear along on my outings to ensure I’m properly prepared for changing conditions as well as unanticipated challenges I may encounter during my hunting or trapping. 
 Today felt different, taking a little longer to find tracks. It had started snowing so I decided to turn back not realizing how far I had traveled.   Watching the clouds obscure the watery sun as the wind kicked up miniature snow squalls reducing visibility.  I drove over a rise hitting a snowdrift breaking the drive shaft. 

 The full moon and milky snow illuminate the nighttime landscape I found myself lost on the mountain.

 I have to make a choice. Looking for the North Star I placed a stick pointing north to direct me to the closest destination when I rise in the morn dawn. To the North one hundred fifty miles to the nearest cabin hoping that it is supplied with stable foods and a warm place to stay until rescued,  or south two hundred miles in the other direction where a trapper lives all year round. 
 Over my shoulders I carried my rifle and survival equipment and begin the one hundred fifty mile hike to the cabin. Walking through spruce, hemlock, and lodge-pole pines and eating a variety of berries.

  In the morning after the snowstorm I woke to ski snow-powder steeps.  A wolf rested on its haunches, inspecting my unprotected surroundings.  I took aim, shot, and missed and it turned and took off.

 For days I had the feeling that someone or something was watching me.
  I started seeing signs of bear tracings. I was almost out of ammunition for my rifle and decide to make a spear. I looked around for a suitable sturdy tree limb or sapling a few inches taller them me. Using my knife I fashioned a shelf for the knife creating securing support for the knife and wrapping it tight with rope.

 I had shot a three point buck early that morning and dressed it out; when I heard woof, woof, woof, sounds. The black grizzly bear came down on all fours and started pawing at the ground then came at me like a freight train.

 I wedge the wooden in of the spear between the rock and into the ground. The grizzle charged then stood up rising above me, impelling itself through the heart with the spear killing it instantly.  His dead weight slumped falling limp forward on top of me trapping me under.  

 Tired and cold the pain disappeared by the time I amble down the pathway toward the summer cabin in the noon-lit dawn.


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

Times of Trouble Are Ahead

Read the Bible and the words that are said. Times of trouble and tribulation are ahead! All one has to do is read the book of revelation. To read about this world and this nation! Days of wickedness and evil that abounds.. Shall very soon. Come “crashing to the ground!” For our sin, there’s a price that has been paid! Many have become sin’s servant and slave! Many will not escape God’s judgment and wrath! They’ve chosen the wrong direction and path! Right now... There’s a path and a way to “escape!” Please do it right now! Before it’s too late! The right path to take, is through Christ alone! He must be the lord of your heart and home! Jesus alone, can bring hope to your soul! He’ll never leave you! Is what he wants you to know! Times of trouble and uncertainty are well on their way! Christ can help you to overcome! He can do it TODAY! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Tragic Feather

Oh, tragic feather what is thy tragedy
No longer freedom gay or certian loft
How is this thy new translation
From a majesty, unto a wing thou hath mighty dropped

Were thou thus, shunned, cast away 
Or merely, cut out or off
As limb from downward spiral angel
Perhaps, a troubled finch or insanity in wayward hawk

Lie, if thou must, be it amidst a deafening silence, lonesome soft
But, I plead, please tell me fallen feather, what hath befallen thee
Thy tuft to ne’er evermore touch again
What life should be, warmth of the summer's breeze

Sleep, sleep now 'neath the alley's gutter greys 
Catching Weeping Willows damning drops
Adrift as the drowning lily dying
In seas of the myriad scattered rots

An accomplice I shall say, within a winter's willing white
And alas, buried ordinary in this doth the corpse delight
Far beneath the crowds held at bay and forever lost
Now thou hath become the naked grove of wicker and then...
                                   the more of naked souless crops

Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |

Biting Cold

It was a freezing night in Alaska, the temperature had 
dropped to well below zero, fifteen below with a driving 
wind that shrieked and laughed as it sped viciously past
causing lashing snow flakes to fall fast and furiously.   

Up in the high mountains the man shook his head
as he stoked up the fire causing the flames to dance
creating shadows on the sod hut's walls. They seemed
to move with a life of their own. Forming first a pattern
a fleeting glimpse of a unicorn or so he thought. He needed 
the storm to pass by so he could check out his many traps.

He was working two lines this winter for pine martin with
the odd trap for Lynx and wolverine who were a bane
always robbing his traps of his fur. He also had traps
deep in the river by the beaver's dams, the price of their
fur was sky high this year. He needed to hunt for more
meat too as his freezer was nearly empty and it would
be a long two months before the thaw and he could get 
supplies flown in. Turning in he slept well waking to find
the storm was tailing off, quickly he got things ready.

Daylight was a brief five hours this time of year and  
one was already gone. He worked the line nearest to 
his hut first gathering up the furs and resetting the traps.
It was so tranquil now, the spruces stretched up high
seeming to touch the sky shedding the odd pile of snow
from laden branches that drooped with the weight.

Picking up some deer tracks that were fresh he followed.
Soon spotting some elk high up on the next ridge he
climbed around to get into position. He lined up his
sights on a healthy male and took a clean shot
dropping it in its tracks. Quickly he field dressed it
taking the hide and meat leaving the rest for the
various predators that were already gathering.

At least it was mainly downhill to what he called
home. Striding on as darkness started to fall
he soon was home and now the work began.
He have several furs to skin, stretch and pin
out to dry, others that now needed more
work, scraping carefully he removed and smoothed
the hides and hung them on frames in his smoke room
to colour and cure. Then he had his dogs to feed before
he himself could also eat. It had been a long hard day.

He now had a moment to reflect and gave thanks to
the elk who had died so he and his dogs could eat.
This would be his life for the next few weeks, then he 
would take his furs to town to sell. He would be glad to 
see his family again it would be nearly five months
since he was last home and over three since he had spoken 
to another soul. Yet he would not give up this way of life.

The last thing he did before he flew out was to dismantle
his sod hut and burn the remains on the iced up river
removing all signs that he had been here. Next winter he 
would build another in a different place and life would go on.

Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


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

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Snow White

She smiled at me
With a somewhat semblance of beauty
And with a glare in her eyes
She knows more, she knows my next moves

Snow white wants you near
Snow white wants your hear
Snow white loves your fears
Snow white comes for you

L-let me taste your poison L-let me taste your poison

Snow white wants you near
Snow white wants your hear
Snow white loves your fears
Snow white comes for you

L-let me taste your poison L-let me taste your poison

Bathe in the blood of virgins
I'm calling for you
Name your despair
I'm sure I'll give you worse 

Snow white wants you near
Snow white wants your hear
Snow white loves your fears
Snow white comes for you

L-let me taste your poison
 L-let me taste your poison

Snow white wants you near
Snow white wants your hear
Snow white loves your fears
Snow white comes for you

L-let me taste your poison
 L-let me taste your poison

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Acrostic |

snow white verses sleeping beauty

No pain; no gain regret the lies we've told,
under achieved where does it stop when
two people care.

A figment of speech recalled it's
seven dwarfs; and a fairytale now
composed an evil step-mother to
poison her...... 

As the shiny- red apple drops before
her feet; I will have detained the
princess before her glass coffin to 
sleep with in her tomb....

Mean-While Half way across the meadows
another princess awaits her prince uncertain
where her path leads, she under goes A curse 
that was casted upon her at sweet sixteen.

Only to have followed that path to her 
dungeon to be captivated by A spinning-
wheel where she pricked her finger and 
fell fast asleep.... Once again....

Now they both lye here in desperation 
awaiting thier prince to break the spell
that put them there as a true loves kiss
awakens them.  

where I find happily ever after becomes 

Copyright © Carma Reed | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |


The sapphire sun of what-were dreams
Setting in the forsaken east
My winters' desperation clung to your silent voice
Let death be a choice
Dusk revealed your truest nature
Before her argentine eyes
'Tis the darkest of tragedies, romances' maladies
Let your forgiveness be la Vie In this frozen air
The wings of my deepest despairs

Friend or foe?
The dagger close to my heart--
If your forgiveness is nigh
Let me know--or is this all a lie

Lilyheart Swain
Please don't give into your pain
You hold my soul on Eden's Edge

Your innocent flesh
Cradled in my broken arms
Forever you will be mine, forever you will stay
The snow caressing us as we tangle in deathly embrace
This darkness fades into amber innocence 
Hatred no longer exists
Forgive me
Come back my only

The winterwind tears carress me
With whispers, (of) Someone I Once knew
Calming the fears inside
But the pain remains
--hallcunary rains 

Dreams fading with the Enya in your eyes
With the darkness of your hands
The silverfears of the pale moon
Shine on you

Lilyheart swain 
Please don't give into your pain
You hold my soul on Eden's Edge

Your innocent flesh
Cradled in my broken arms
Forever you will be mine, forever you will stay
The snow caressing us as we tangle in deathly embrace
This darkness fades into amber innocence 
Hatred no longer exists
Forgive me
Come back my only

Your eyes search for mine
Oh how they shine, blue 
Sacrdice has a price
Heaven is calling us tonight

Cursed In shadowed illusions
Shall we dance?
Would there be a chance
Forgive me now
I will rip out every nail 
Of your coffin
I don't care if it's God it will offend

Lilyheart Swain
Please don't give into your pain
You hold my soul on Eden's Edge

Your innocent flesh
Cradled in my broken arms
Forever you will be mine, forever you will stay
The snow caressing us as we tangle in deathly embrace
This darkness fades into amber innocence 
Hatred no longer exists
Forgive me
Come back my only

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |

Tale of the White Snow Turtles

In the deep of the snow, In the dead of winter,
Under the Aurora Borealis taking our breath away.
The snow turtles jostle, and skittle, and Skim the snow,
All in a beautifully quiet nights, bountiful, wonderful play.

Man has seldom seen this recluse, so gentle and so renowned. 
White as the snow packed earth itself, they simply can’t be found.
They sled and slide and scurry to hide before the break of day,
No one knows they’re even there, for they make not even a sound.

Animals respect them for they can’t make them into prey.
Even the polar bears leave them alone, except for to play.
And no matter how much the bears bat them about, I say!
They just close up and go wherever they are conveyed.

Magical, they can swim waters quite cold and really deep.
They eat the little fishes and enjoy whatever they can reap.
A man will never find their den as they dig into the frozen snow,
For like the tundra gophers, they live in the frozen ground below.

I swear they do exist, for a baby once came to me, admiring my fishing pole.
For I had lots of little tasty, yummy, fish that he wanted my son and I to throw.
We obliged him just that once, and then for more nights before we left his land.
But if you're going searching there’s something I should let you know, offhand.
They only show themselves to the pure of heart with a fish offering in your hand.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Epic |


Alaskan wilderness, a beautiful sight, holds grave danger when you go it alone.
It was freezing cold one night when Frank’s unwanted adventure began. 
He had left early that Sunday morn, before an unexpected blizzard moved in.
In daylight he had traveled miles across pristine splendor; thick snow made vision blur.
The flurry came so quickly; it took him by surprise.  Wolves howl imposed death’s cries.
He had traveled 150 miles past Wendell Winthrop’s summer cottage.
The next closest shelter was 200 miles away where the year round trapper lived.
Frank was all alone; to survive the night, he needed to bury himself in snow.

The next morning he woke up alive!  Hurray!  It was a great start for the new day.
He brushed the snow off and got on his snowmobile, all prepared for a brisk ride home.
To his disbelief, the snowmobile would not start.  No repair brought even one spark.
What would he do?  An unwanted adventure was about to begin…unprepared.

He collected a few supplies and warm clothes, which he carried and started walking.
In the distance he heard hungry howls followed by a fallen caribou screaming.
After two days of surviving eating snow, he knew that he had to find some meat.
But he was in for a God sent treat.  Behind a snow mound he heard a wolverine.
There it was. Food!  Wild kill; a part eaten moose with no bear or wolf to be seen.
The wolverine shared, without a choice; a gunshot wound in her side made her weak.
It all made sense.  Noisy guns scared the bears and wolves off during the blizzard.
Poachers must have shot the wolverine while trying to get out of the storm safely.

Having a concerned heart, Frank wrapped a shirt around the bleeding wound; Blood stopped.
The injured mammal seemed happy and so did Frank.  That morning they ate together.
He built a makeshift stretcher; then, lifted the wolverine onto it, like two friends.
Mile after mile he trudged before he and “Wolvie” were hungry again; he made camp.
Three ptarmigan flew close to the fire. Pow!   Pow!   Pow!   Frank and Wolvie ate that night.
He had gone a long way before camping again.  His friend seemed to be much better.
It was a miracle!  She lived; after five days she walked, but stayed right by Frank’s side.  
Almost there, a black bear cornered Frank.  Wolvie lunged at its throat; the bear ran.
They made it!  The trapper came out, raised his gun. Frank shouted, “Don’t, shoot!” 
The trapper could not believe his ears.  Frank and the wolverine were co-heros.


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2017

Details | Haibun |

Beautiful Ice Crystals-Epic Sighting Contest

Epic Sighting Contest

A streak in the sky filled with colored light,with splashes of pink on each ray,
And cerulean waves of particle collections, makes my visibility a true design.
Way above the frigid landslide, 
I start to see...
I start to imagine...
I start to bask.... 
In the embellishment of the radiance in the sky, 
Without return to where...
                                     I used to belong,
	                                I tried to forget my past,
	                                     Where I belong now.

No longer do I reside in that desolate land,
Dry, polluted and forsaken, I shall live where I choose, 
And I've chosen the immaculate palace, above the clouds and 
Just underneath heaven...
Prisms of rainbow light flashing through my soul,
As it regenerates from being so lifeless from down below....

		                     Don't miss the waste land,
		                         Moving forward came so quick,
		                              I feel so at peace.

There's a castle made of ice crystals, sparkling diamonds shining through all directions from the sun. Dangling pieces melting into radiant beauty. This journey was not planned. Fate had it to be for my life and my life only. I always knew I would be happy one day...
The distance was too vast and my life seemed too modest...so there I was, walking a thousand miles north east to find out,
                                      I need this in life,
		                          Crystal castle up above,
		                             Grateful that I'm home.	        

Written By: Laura Urbaniak
November 3, 2015
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer    

Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |


No January morning is ever so devastating, the heavy icicles
dangle from the frozen shingles of houses with puffing chimneys;
no eyes will see the misery of scattered, broken snow flowers...
all paths winding down the icy slopes are buried as memories
of summers past, and by late spring, will they return to us?
Ah, fierce is the strong hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance! 

The coldest wind howls, bends trees finding no resistance,
only snow is seen for miles stretching into the warmer South;
where are the Eskimo dogs pulling the heavy-loaded sleights?
Where are the chiseled-faced drivers with the fur-covered heads?  
Where are the fishing boats loaded with salmon and trout?   
Ah, fierce is the hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance!

It'll get dark early, mornings will be cold and evenings as frigid as Iceland', 
only the pathetic moon will shed its dim light on that thick and vast
sheet of gleaming ice that bears crack with their excessive weight...
why live in this cold region and wait for the tons of snow to melt?
Travel South, straight into California to catch some healthy sunshine;
your pale skin will turn red, golden, or bronze while smelling the scent of a vine! 
Forget these poetic words that end my long epic of sad reminiscence,
" Ah, fierce is the strong hand of Nature causing fear through vengeance! "

Entered in Sidney LeeAnn's contest,
" Dead Winter "
Written by Andrew Crisci


Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2011

Details | Epic |

About The Year '72 Part 1

About the year '72
I mean nineteen hundred and '72
It's a year we'll not forget
The snow began October 1st
Day after day there was more and to make it worse
The winds were fierce, The snow did move 
Covering up any and everything in it way
Billy would plow us out 
As I'd take the kids to school,
Wait for me and plow me back in was the rule.
He'd then be free to begin his feeding chores
He had a cleat tractor, (I called it a cat)
Which he used to dig out the hay stacks and feed with
He’d cable the stack onto the hay sled
And head for the pastures where the cattle were fed
He’d put it in low gear and climb aboard the stack of hay
And pitch it to the eager critters along the way
Pasture after pasture, herd after herd
Until a stack and a half had been fed.
He’d park the rig.  
In his pickup were the tools to break the ice in the tanks
Usually an axe and the pitch fork it’d take
He’d chop up the ice and pitch it out of the tank
Giving the cattle fresh water to drink
Twice and sometime three a day
To make sure the water would help wash down the hay
This accomplished he’s scatter mineral cubes
To ensure the health of his herd.
Then and only then would he come into dinner
And a chance to get warm before he went out again
The remainder of the day was spent 
Digging out hay for the next days feed.
Which usually had to be dug out again the next morn.
Chopping more ice to clear the water supply.
When time came to get the kids he’d drop all 
And plow me out and plow us back in
When we were home safe he’d be off to the shop
To work on equipment that was in need of repair 
To be ready to go to work the next day

Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007