Sunlight glistens off crystal snowflakes
As they float and flutter through the sky
Like butterflies in their freedom of flight,
Never knowing where they might alight.
They leave us awestruck as they join
Together turning the landscape white.
Closer view reveals no two are alike.
In this way, we as tender human beings
Have much in common with snowflakes.
We treasure our freedom, we are each unique,
And there is much beauty as we unite as an
All encompassing gift to each other
Bonded by the strength of coming together.
Winter is a time of rest and rejuvenation,
A time to prepare for rebirth in the coming spring
As the first bulbs push their way through the
Snow covered ground, slowly rising up in
A blaze of glorious colors, exalting spring hope.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day February 25, 2017
Thank you Poetry Soup Team!
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017
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…
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
Biting winds and swirling flakes of snow had finally abated
We surveyed the deep drifts, which lay on the fields
The silvery moon peeped through the clouds and lit our way
It was bitterly cold, but the pitiful sound of bleating spurred us on
Some friends and neighbours had joined us – we had no time to lose!
Grabbing our spades we worked tirelessly throughout the night
Digging out the sheep and tiny lambs one by one
Their fleeces were matted with tiny icicles
As dawn broke we had rescued all but one of our precious flock
Suddenly our trusty sheepdog Shep started barking
We trudged to where he was frantically pawing at the snow
Our hearts lifted as we pulled the final sheep out alive
At last it was time for us to return to the farmhouse
In the distance I could see gold and silver lights sparkling
and scintillating on the Douglas fir tree in church in the village.
I raised my eyes to heaven and gave thanks.
A Winter Poem
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
silver, gold, sparkling, flakes, icicles, drifts and spades
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016
the shortest day
but longest night
within a memory
of my four seasons
Every cell in my body
Your amorous glance
Your ardent touch
Your effervescent kiss
and even your last whisper
a careless whisper
which sickened my thought
and pained me with grief
Every breath from my lungs
remembers your absence
How can I forget it
I live with it
I die inside of it
It surrounds my existence
You -Solstizio D'Inverno
Where is your promise
of new beginning
Where is the light
of what was pure
I know you!
I know you
enough to know
You still feel me in your bones
I know you!
I know you
enough to know
You bury me in your soul
Then you dig..
You dig crazily
beneath poured dusk
which fills the hourglass
beyond your veins
You dig deep
to find me
You find me
You hold me
I know you!
I know you
enough to know
You hold me
to your heart
I know you!
I know you
enough to know
Your love travels
as far as the stars
as distant as God
and undiscovered orbits
But was that
For how long
should this candle shine
How dim its glow now
Low is the voice
which calls the sun
to rebirths prisms
Weak are the footprints
which mark our path
on moonlit snow
I should stop walking
I should stop calling
The sun sank
in the stillness
of a crimson horizon
In the solitude
of the tide
never to dawn
in these eyes again
my coldest verse
My longest night
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014
The old screen door still welcomes me
as if recalling days before...
But after this...who'll pass this way?….
Will they use the rug and wipe their feet?
Erase away the grime and sleet?
.....Or will they even care?
I feel my pulse and lungs collide
then, take a breath...and step inside
She had lived alone, the last to go
one somber dawn, in the old brownstone
No other sign her time was near
Then silently, without fanfare....
death tiptoed in on hard wood floors
and took more than a glimpse of her
I've been asked to come, to clear the house
to organize, and set it right…
This all seems wrong….
to trespass on the throne of life
that was softly lived, behind the gate
where thirsty roses bloom, and wait…
to disturb the lace on drop leaf tables…
Disgrace the quiet of the gloom
open drawers, snoop and sort, ….a pruning,
of the good, the used, from worn and torn
My hands are able, but my heart declines..
what isn’t mine, to toss, to find, to mark, and label…
Echoes of her old straw broom
still follow me through every room,
While dust motes in the window light
are like glitter in the afternoon…
Where is the charm that used to be
where cozy logs had offered light
keeping the long nights warm?
Whirling sounds are in the air
like whispered breaths of weaving looms
Treadled sounds from sewing hems.
are mimicked by the whistling wind
that rattle windows, shaking blooms
on this somber winter afternoon
There are questions I want to ask
tho’ I can’t recall just what they were
No matter now….with no one here
I must be focused….on my task…
I must keep sorting until I'm done…
And now, …as doors of dark close in
I see, somehow, that fate has planned….
I am glad that I, with my two hands…
have witnessed with a smile within,
this cherished life, until the end
Within four walls, I hold it all
and now I know, what mattered most
Her life is held in loving hands
I stand here in the halls of night
content, I'll leave without regret
companioned by a day well spent…
I've been within …her company
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011
I Am Winter
I am cold – not heartless,
nor do I wish any harm.
This is just the way it is,
my gaze - a shivering chill,
my kiss - a frosty sting,
my breath - a numbing touch.
I come alone – uninvited
to lull to sleep the cycles
that need rejuvenation.
I am angry – for you fear me -
shut your doors, lock your windows,
deny me but your harshest looks
wrap yourselves in layers
lest we touch.
I am saddened – thus I whine
dancing around your houses
bending low the cowering trees
weeping sub zero tears
that never fall.
I am Winter –
and when my time is done
you will rejoice that I have gone
never thanking me –
for the beauty that awaits.
John G. Lawless
Submitted to PD’s – Winter Poems #1 – Poetry Contest
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014
autumn is here.
of the rain
and blossoms spring.
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
the sand sculptures
a childhood summer past.
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.
in the glee,
in the hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
Somber is the color of the day...
Window glass distorts the view, of the dreary afternoon
Prisms of light cavorting outside, are reflected from the dew
and rainbows are splashed, from an old pewter lamp
as if to divert me of my mood
While quietly, I sit, and ponder it all, my pen is close, my chin in hand
Pinned back, my strands, a sweater, old, is pulled around the chill
woven in colors, of various yarns, as varied as thoughts that take me away
My mind is lost in a wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter wind,
and leaves lay dead beneath the snowy mounds
a fire glows, and a storm now keeps me bound
One shard of light from a neighbor's home
across the hill, a distant mile
The dimness in a room from winter sighs...
then something sparks a word ...a line, .. a verse, ... a lullaby ...
The day is sadder than the words I had found...
so somber is the day that keeps me bound
I hide away this moment....a cup of tea, a Golden Lab for company..
One peek beyond the distant hill, a touch of sun
A glimpse of mountain, pastures deep, my dog that sleeps...
A momentary chance to free my soul
In just a brief, but deep departure from the ordinary...
I explore my thoughts, search my heart, wonder what this day will bring...
I watched old memories, long kept cold, ...unfold as if a dream
Unsort, relive, those worlds untold....
Exploring new words, I now have found
Stumbling through my mind, unintended
Watching the words tumble as if unattended...
Unfolding, exploding, and falling in chaos
Paying no mind to the reader's conception
Cleansing, pleasing, as my soul fits the pieces...
Beneficial.... to the reader...will it matter? Who knows?...
But a satisfying journey traveled and found
by myself....and for myself, ....as the one who's creating...
Looking out from blurry windows...a dark day continues ...
on a somber colored day, that kept me bound.....
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010
The woods are a crystal cathedral,
trees sculpted of glass.
Brittle branches clink
when the wind whispers -
glistening, deadly beauty
frozen in time.
January 16, 2017
Copyright © Agnes Krampe | Year Posted 2017
Winter has stolen the night,
A world I have always known,
is lost in a blanket of snow, ....
with recognition adrift, and thrown
tossed away in the endless white
I gaze over landscapes, whitewashed in the moonlight
Strange bittersweet etchings of silver starlight
Trees reaching high, with wild naked limbs,
Each branch empty handed, their twigs opened wide
grasping for snow flakes...or something to find
Something familiar, that's been left behind
Drifts growing higher, while icicles glimmer
distorting the mirrors of stars from the night
I know that the moon is hiding, somewhere,
caught in the winter's snow of sleep
Bemused are the clouds while obscuring the light,
disguising the image we once knew at sight
My world flickers dim, bleaching the ground,
Taking my breath, until all words are gone
I cannot recall, I cannot rewind, all the old music that I've known so well
I strain to hear where summer dwelled, too thin to be recalled
Where all the autumn leaves once fell
Where seasons green wore flowered hills
They must disappear, with each thing we have known,
Bleached by the moon, until they are pale
Stars then will spin, and seasons will dim
But, then all the reasons for believing begins ....
Winter has stolen the night, tonight, and the world I've always known
.... in the sparkling snow, adrift in the timeless wind.
Written for contest: A Winter Poem
Resubmitted for Contest: 2/6/17
Form G or N/A
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
A harsh wind bites.
The signals are there for those
who understand; those who can
read the fauna and flora like a map.
Navigating through the forest…
Acorns are being stored under a
Shards of light pierce through
Evergreens wrap themselves
in a nice warm coat.
The snow arrives on iridescent
wings, stretching it’s arms and
cloaking all in sight.
A silence creeps in, it’s heart
slows to a single beat of a
dying honey bee…
Copyright © David Williams | Year Posted 2015
With my soul at peace and my thoughts at rest,
standing in this winter wilderness,
I whisper words of heartfelt bliss.
Come with me and walk this path.
Together we tread against the freeze,
and find the warmth of tender grasp.
My devoted being shall forever be,
a place of strength against chilled winds,
a brilliant light only you have seen.
Our lives have met in this quiet space.
Let sky meet land and rivers merge.
Forever, harmony I long to taste.
We have summoned light from darkest days.
Heat returns to melt still ice.
Each day length now brings stronger rays.
The deepest snows cannot hide the facts.
Beneath these layers life holds fast.
Newfound joys spring from bleakest past.
Let's rebuild life from broken dreams,
Where life restarts with each new spring,
the snows will melt to feed fresh streams.
Like this land, my passion runs free.
Walls have come down with earnest words.
My unblinded eyes now see.
I ask for your hand without ounce of gold,
or shiny stones dug from filthy earth.
My eternal love cannot be bought or sold.
Under peaks reborn of volcanic scars,
In night's serene and starkest silence,
I pledge love to outlast the multitude of stars.
Solitude I turn from on this ride.
Today and tomorrow let's walk in stride.
Promise to be my utopian bride.
Copyright © Wayne Hill | Year Posted 2013
Upon ice clear - frozen window pane
A single breath remains, captured warm - then dissipates
Beyond - whipped by season's song
Somehow, beauty mixes with fury
Living white smoke snakes across grassy fields
Powder dunes shift aimlessly
Seeking their space to claim
No sign of life...
The landscape foreign - engulfed as prisoner
Inside I feel much the same
But..now beside fire's glow
When winter has had her say...this sand will pass
....give way to spring's soft plush green grass
© Donna Jones
Copyright © Donna Jones | Year Posted 2015
do not forget among the loss of flowers
beneath your death of snow
do not forget that bird of sun
the trees gave down there bending branches
to light the grass where love made little flowers
do not forget my love
the lights most fragile gift the sky
bowed low to give a blushing praise
to the joyful dance of star and moon
do not forget the nesting hope of spring
the freed sparrow of your fingers
the silence more deep then words
remember me in the summerless field
the slender moment bereft of rain
before life and you became
Copyright © orphani ..........o | Year Posted 2009
My breath becomes visible when I exhale
into the chill of the still, winter air
but, I do not mind the cold.
I hear nothing, but the solemn sound of silence
as I stand in the middle of nowhere, with no one,
looking straight up into a gray sky
and seeing nothing, but a million snowflakes coming toward me.
Tumbling, dancing, drifting, and finding their way to the earth.
No, they are not just frozen raindrops.
Each one is a miniature ice sculpture
intricately carved by the hand of a master artist.
Can it be, within the billions of snowflakes that fall each year,
that no two are ever alike?
While I do not have the answer, I enjoy pondering the question.
I stand perfectly still, as if frozen in time,
as the snow falls down, and sticks onto my hair,
instantly aging me as my golden-brown locks turn white.
Yet, I feel much younger than I am.
I feel like I am inside a snow-globe that has just been shaken.
I can feel them gently landing on my face,
these delicate snowflakes tickle me
as they get caught by my eyelashes.
I just close my eyes and smile.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
holiday thoughts chill me
more so than this breeze
as it wraps me up
in winter's blanket
i want to be like the trees
colorless and bare
that weighs me down
i want to dance free
in the wind
like dead branches
in storm's fury
i'm snapping though
and it's only december
i can feel the weight
of winter's wrath
pulling me down
i am falling
more than a few inches deep
everything is turning white
within death's grasp
i am december's ending
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013
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
Shallow edged with twigs, and sodden leaves
The odors of the earth, green moss and peat
The roots of quiet trees and rotting logs
The crumbling bank where cattails wash their feet
Where tiny minnows dart with lightning speed
Among the roots where wild ducks come to feed
The very core and essence of the earth
Born of melted snow, and sleet and rain
Of birds who roost amid the tree tops high
And breathe the wholesome fragrance of the sky
Trees that sway and swoon along the bank
Shedding leaves of amber, rust and gold
Like ashes left from burning autumn dreams
To listen, standing guard on either flank
O'er twig and stone, with watchful eyes so keen
While shading coves where angler poles have been
Across it's face, a restless ripple seen
Where tangled grass and weeping willows lean
Upon the shores where struggles soon will cease
This place to spend in nature's splendid peace
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
I can feel him in my bones.
A chill has descended on my world
I can see him in the breath that forms a mist before me.
I can hear him in the wind that whispers to the pines.
Barren trees flex their skeletal fingers
While wasted leaves plummet to their death.
His presence is betrayed.
I am not alarmed.
I have met him before.
We oft have locked in struggles between seasons,
I have fended off his frozen arrows
Beaten back his snow filled storms.
Broken his sword of ice and forced surrender.
I have left his broken spirit
To wither in the pristine fields of spring.
Knowing that his soul has not been vanquished.
On the morrow, the ghost of winter will return
And I, like a worthy foe,
Will wait to challenge him again
Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2011
While powdered flakes gently spill from heaven
Like embroidery of gold tassels kissing buds
And hawthorns ,the frost twinkles and drifts
Unto winter’s beautifully formed marquee,
tangy the vapor of her skin
wafting into nightfall’s’ interlude.
Enthralled, I shudder at the rhythm
Of her dance : icicles flitting in liquid
Crystal taps on silver alleys... a movement
glossed by the spades of eve’s lanterns:
She is a mystery, a prayer, a holy angel
That lays her sparkling white gown
On pearled brocade sewn into fabric of snow…
A winter’s luminescence casting an alchemy
That my own fingers, in a pirouette,
unfurls then coils into a solstice's hymn
‘Glory be, glory be.”
Shadow Hamilton's A Winter Poem
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016
I am winter
I can hear the birds singing,
calling for the sun to rise
from dark branches scraping an alabaster sky
Full of life they sound,
perched high above a frosted lawn,
clinging to sticks, crooked and bare,
formed of countless years trying
and mistletoe nightmares
Frigid sonatas echo
through a stoic countryside,
white dustings coat sparse thicket
woven in below freezing motionless
Footprint remnants, slight indentations
wander finding nowhere a reality
along disguised pathways
Melodies bridge the breeze across
a lonely corn field of empty rows
and a garden of sleeping blooms
Life waiting to be reborn,
to paint the landscape with color,
bringing happiness to the birds,
chirping on the cusp of new,
the edge of beauty,
as eastern horizons wake
Grey skies still cling to the heavens
I listen, quietly to this music
as if their harmonies will lift
the chilly loneliness from my heart
Chambered worries of what will come,
frozen rivers in icicle vistas
Counting sunsets until spring arrives,
when I whisper a sad good bye,
but I will return…
I am winter
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2016
Icy winter storms swirl
within the clouded night,
wailing winds howl,
gales rage, and slushy sleet
freezes the ground.
When will the dawn turn red?
Chances you'll never know
as you're snuggled cosily
under thick downy quilts and covers,
dreaming the crystalline snows away.
You cuddle snugly up towards me
stealing my warmth away.
I feel such euphoric happiness,
your closeness a comfortable bliss.
Soon sleep claims our consciousness.
Do you dream pleasantly of me?
Or is your mind on something else?
Yet I will not relinquish easily
the intense fantasies of our love
that ages like a vintage wine,
the colors that enrich our existence,
the passion that enhance our being,
the memories that make us what we are.
That is the picture in my mind:
I will never give it up.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
Of beauty untold
The glacial summer.
By painful slumber.
Eyes of silence,
Cold lips of fury.
Auspice of death
The twisted tongue
The vile plunging
Of raging sleep
Of sweet revenge.
The immortal with life
As it closed its eyes
Copyright © Varise Duxbury | Year Posted 2005
Winter's whimsical nature comes with
fickle freeze, cold pervading every fibre
How I remember you, red hot
against the white snow
against permafrost desolation
How your aura lingers in my brain
fleeting perfume, breeze of ozone
The sweet sweaty scent of long nights
leathery lines grafted in my skin
The fragile steps we took, tension
of our vulnerability in closeness
Sweet brokenness, tender hurt...
Worlds of ice can not find my
Duvet of snowflakes, simulation of
soft warm goose down
Mirroring remnants of our souls
that sleep in dreamless reminiscence
May 17, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
Adornment so scant only
Heaven’s light to cheer the lonely
In springtime though
Peeping buds awaken
Tiny origins thrust
Ease one’s contemplation
Sans nature’s later flow
And mind’s eye gravitates
To roiling roots below
Spring’s full blown riot
Must pose eyeful question
But a moment chime perhaps
Soul’s true direction
Is such splendid array
A vein traveling invitation
To some hidden house
Of God’s creation?
Alas belittling mortal speculation
Winter’s origin winter’s shroud –
She sleeps sleeps as needed
By all of nature’s crowd
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2017
We walk, hand in hand,
careful of the ice covered paths.
The sun hidden by dark clouds
Heavy with cold rain.
The vanishing verdant leaves
Of barren trees offer no shelter,
As crystal icicles hang from branches aloft.
Occasionally we stop and kiss,
Like hungry bees sucking nectar,
Capture a moment of total happiness.
Give love a chance to increase
Until dusk engulfs the wintry woods.
Birds fall silent as they seek shelter.
All around is dreary and forlorn.
Yet we are happy and feel elated.
We repair to our tryst for a hot cocoa
And a night of perfect peaceful rest.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
As you stand in that lonely field,
snow falling in drifted memories,
chilled winds collecting in the corners of your mind,
footprints leading neither here nor there
in wandering dance steps
to a sorrowed tune
hearing monochrome clouds whisper
words in echoes of torment
that never seem to end,
lingering somewhere in the past,
on this cold December morning
when the day feels as if it is your last.
Know that as you gaze to the heavens,
leaving frozen teardrops scattered
on the stark white landscape,
this warmth you feel wrapping
tenderly around your shoulders,
caressing your heart in springtime promises is me.
Floating on a tiny snowflake
amidst the many crystalline forms,
yet glistening brighter,
finding you, touching you,
loving you, on even the coldest days
of this eternal winter
Happy first day of winter
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2016
I love all of the everyday things
they are all made for me thru my
wide eye infancy to watch them
become for me, that dreamlike reality
like paying attention to a frozen mornings flower
spending time watching the boys fly paper kite's
watch how they dream of flight, then work quickly
winding each dream back, racing a fog-rain to safety
"tag you are it"
I better not be the last one caught gazing
strolling along the wine glass rims of each building
daring to not find my true destiny upon their edges
when I do this, averting any sideways glance's
"then who waits for the Darkest coat to befall?"
strolling lifeless branches under the park trees'
above is my sky, the sky will not save me
from the void ahead, nor will sugar in this bowl
so why be a bother
of the Liffey today or of its bridges
or look for the birds in their missing and warm places
I should just be alone today, sitting in my flat
throwing ink at my poetry blog
with my back to this window that feels cold and empty
photo; google/ Dublin fog / image 15
Copyright © Daniella Annalisa Nikolayev | Year Posted 2017
Winter let's us hold our breath,
and pause just inside the door,
we spend more time at window frame
watching the snowflakes fall.
The slumber of trees and cars
softens the noise on our ears,
we slow, inhale, exhale, and wonder
how every snowflake is formed.
The painted days of softened hues
blues on grays and faded yellows
are an artist's muse and a friendly cue
to wait for the coming of spring.
Every hurried step may lead to a fall,
every hurried kiss may lead to goodbye
every hurried minute forfeits the surprise
of crow squawking or coyote sniffing
at the base of your door and the base
of mind where questions need research
and answers are hard to find
and death and forever, wait like hunger
to leads us elsewhere, lead us forever
into the embrace of new, will we survive?
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2010
When winter enters the heart,
snowflakes gather in rosy chambers,
like ghosts of crows-every breath throbbing
sluggish songs of longing and loneliness...
Over time the crows pile on,
my-my how they live to pile on,
like bones of long ago loves...
leaving only an avalanched refrain....
but the soul is still flowing and howling
like an early winter stream
nobody dares to cross
those icy blue eyed thinning veins.
but there is a flock of warmth
in every winter heart,
buried beneath dead songs of crow and time,
they just need a pinch of flint and pine
to release the warmth from the glowing...
my-my how they beat to release rose budded songs
from a million springs ago.
Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013