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Best Bone Chilling Cold Poems | Poetry

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ASP OF GRIEF

ASP OF GRIEF She buries her head upon this asp of grief — soft with reptilian fangs, hard with poison. Her covetous husband lies upon the Nile’s reef. She holds her abdomen in her arms - his son. with lunar belly... the shape of her husband’s seed ...a fateful eclipse The pit with its bone-chilling cold, hisses with hatchlings, dreaming of spoiled seeds and seas with a vortex, coiling around ships. A queen’s lips burn red, yearning for her king. An abandoned wreck will not lay eyes upon his baby’s sex. insanity’s kiss... eyes burn with crimson lipstick ...unrepentant flames She plays with sticks and desire, enticing asps of despair — gorges with vampiric teeth. She embraces their mock and likewise teases, beckons and pleads for death so fair. Like a breeze about her ankles snakes snip her royal purple frock. entanglement frays... dyed purple threads unravel ...rigor mortis strikes His candle ensign in the dark, a resurrected hero of vanity. The light flickers with feet in the sand, footprints at lover’s leap. His profile in death’s shadow, his purple passion of insanity — laughter litters this carnivorous cave where ashes of dust heap. alluring ashes... Salome’s serpentine dance ...Cleopatra’s veils The sound of a knife being sharpened, his sword with venom drawn, leaps upon his self-righteous chest, a single blade’s deep penetration. No handsomer lover, thighs of steel, tanned and craven brawn. He lost his rapturous beauty bright and fleeting, weeds of veneration. bilious-amber mixes with his crimson blade — a suicide pact 4/28/2018
Asp Contest sponsored by (Anthony Slausen) First Place Most comments received contest 7th place


Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2018


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A Flower's Funeral

A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.

-10/6/2013-


Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013


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Death By Murder

Death By Murder: 

Murky water left to drink 
floating particles of death. 

Erie presence leaves discontent. 
As something wicked floats in it. 

The bone chilling cold wind doth blow 
off Lake Erie with flurry snow. 

Late at night off cold dark shores 
shadows of a floating barge. 

Clouds of soot from steamers clogged 
Pollutes the air with killer smog. 

When something wicked this way flows 
poverty on desperate corners pose. 

Perverts prey on angry streets 
Homeless children on which they creep. 

Desperately at the mercy of, 
as something wicked this way comes 

Young ones get plucked,like sweet ripe plumbs 
As something wicked this way comes 
. 
Contaminated, where no herbs could purge her 
Strictly becomes death by murder. 

Others with blood dripping from lips 
Every scary thing flung and flipped 

No caring soul feels to investigate 
As vampires odors fumigate 

There's no friend to even extend 
a stick to beat the bush or defend 

The evil deeds that ignorance brings 
desecrates the graves of all good men 

We make loud noises and pretend; 
While something evil this way spins. 

The screams are loud but know one heard her 
Ignored are cries upon lake Erie's  borders  

Spores that spawn.. these deaths by murder.


Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014


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How Long Has It Been?

A Renga:


It feels like summer
Even though it's October
And leaves have fallen

Night shadows in the garden
And the waxing gibbous moon

A 3-4 time dance
Mixed with memories of youth
Whispered in the room

That first love always lingers
And also the first breakup

After the north wind
A day of bone chilling cold
With coats and ear muffs

Hands embrace the mug of tea
And a few minutes alone

Under the branches
Of the blooming cherry tree
Insects awaken

"I like being around you,"
He smiles and she is flattered

At the small bookstore
The regular customer
Finds a second home

The always open temple
Hardly noticed by tourists

Family photographs
Mixed with good-natured joking
And sips of sweet wine

One brother asks the other,
"How long has it been since Mom died?"


Copyright © Jim Wilson | Year Posted 2009


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Cold Gone

Bone chilling cold gone
Idle trees stretch stiff limbs gently
Hush-din of budding


Copyright © Denise Morgan | Year Posted 2015


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Portrait of a Hanging



With the opening of my fortress cell,
solemn-faced men come locust invading in
Their mouths smile not, and eyes neither grin
as ceremonial words pursed lips expel
A deer thought escapes ... my life nears its end!
And I feel the cold October Halloween Day wind
blast unrelenting upon my pale black skin,
as I’m led to the high place of slaughtering
So afraid am I to face this final reckoning
Then quickly rushing along beside me
comes a beard dripping drunken memory — 
my faithful, forgetful friend
And I beg him to pirate me away
from this awful nightmarish place
He takes a pleasure soaked finger,
presses it against my dry lips,
and my chaotic world suddenly become silent, calming me
Then remember I with sober physician clarity,
how came this horrible fate thrust so surgically
into my fear stricken heart
I’m dissected to the soul, pierced with 
better possibilities that did not unfold
And the ravenous pain which drove me
to my impending demise takes hold
So hungry was I, as I secreted the baker’s abode,
taking the cursed crusted thing that compelled me so
And in my rushed exit carelessness, I left open the window,
allowing in Death’s bone chilling cold
It searched out the baker’s sickly wife: 
for she had no warm shawl upon her head
Tragically while sleeping, she unwittingly uncovered her bed
And the night reaper’s icy kiss left her dead
How came my avenging captors upon me so quicky,
I had often asked myself, 
as I brooded in my iron-walled safe refuge keep?
The mystery revealed to me,
was explained in utter simplicity
The freshly baked dough left a hot trailing scent
of butter and cinnamon
This wafting, rye accusing finger hounded me,
it howled at me ... and my accidental sin caught up to me
I pleaded for mercy from the magistrate, to no avail
My poor protestations stilled by a sentencing gavel pound
Death by hanging was the judge’s obsidian decree,
as agreed the abiding ivory jury
So here these trembling, shuffling steps 
of my terrified feet,
marches unwillingly closer to my final destination
Upon each raised wooden rung I go,
prodded roughly for I move slow
Desperate am I to hold onto life to the very last
As my petrified body reaches the top,
I see them testing the opening and shutting
of the bottom that will drop out
And I silently cry to God: I don’t want to die!
I ask the Lord to forgive my deep scarlet sin;
my ignorant, widow bruising transgression
I sorrowfully confess I regret 
the robbing of a life that was not mine to take
But with chains, my thievish hands tied behind my back are bound,
and fetters wrapped tightly around my larcenous feet,
I now accept at last the dark uncertainty awaiting me
For the executioner places a thick rope boa
against my neck, and it constricts its twined body
ever so slightly
With deadened curiosity, I watch the gathering
of the murmuring crowd, and my captive eyes lash out at them
Angrily blink questioning them: what was the admission price 
they had to pay to see someone’s life taken away?
Some shout, some wag their finger about
Some faint, some laugh and caress a half-dressed bottle as they drank
While some children cry, and some frolic about
under the looming darkening sky
And I notice a small child looking on just as curious as I
He reminds me of me, in my youthful days gone by
In that moment, I pray that his watchful parent
shield his eyes,
so that he carries not forever the image in his mind
of seeing a human being die
As a coarse cloth is draped over my head ... 
and the darkness descends prematurely,
my anxiety and dread is transformed instead — 
I feel tranquility leading me to death’s edge peacefully,
as I inhale long my last taste of air
With the dropping of my body weight
and the snapping of my neck,
my closed eyes see with fleeting awe, 
a spirit rainbow bird of paradise fly slowly upward away
And this lifeless figure swings below,
as an unknown artist 
paints a beautiful portrait of a hanging
Colorful strokes of celestial forgiveness
and resin hidden redemption 
A writ of clemency given by a higher Judge
This heavenly pardon is mixed into the paint,
unbeknownst to the obscure artist — 
whose tear-stained portrait will one day make him famous




Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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DIALYZE ME

When I was diagnosed with end stage renal disease.
Trust me I was not pleased.
I was looking for someone to blame.
I took this so serious because I knew that this was not a game.
I had to change my lifestyle.
For months on my face there was not that familiar smile.
I let myself get depressed.
Right away came stress.
It is so amazing to see the blood leaving your body so quickly.
I felt every organ in my body feeling so guilty.
Almost every day I get so drained.
Inside your body it is a appalling nagging pain.
While being dialyzed.
Your whole body feels so paralyzed.
You are so tired you can only dream and sleep.
That sleep at times is so deep.
Then your body gets so bone chilling cold.
All of a sudden your hands or feet cramp so bad that they cannot bend or fold.
After a while on the machine you get so weak.
Now after four hours I just want to go eat.
As soon as I’m done I give thanks to Jesus.
In Jesus name I do have faith and trust.

I know God will not give me anything I can't handle.  I just wish that He didn't trust me
so much.  ~Mother Teresa


Copyright © Jeffrey Lee | Year Posted 2008


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surprise

Standing on the frozen water, underneath the turquoise plain, Temperature not getting hotter, chills set in and ease the pain. Problems of your prior self, discarded at the price of health. Peoples problems of today, vain and solemn, so cliche. Imagine a desolate waste, bone chilling cold like that of space, You're all alone, you have no place to call home, You've got no phone, to call for a ride, There's no one to call, there's no one to drive. Buildings unheated , feeling defeated. This is where humanity lies, struggling hard to survive, Battling nature to stay alive, learning how to surely thrive. Judged not by wealth, looks, or popularity, But by hard work, devotion, and charity. One day soon we will return,to the beginning when the skies were burned. I pray for all that we'll realize, were all the same, what a surprise.


Copyright © Daniel Berg | Year Posted 2012


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The Hitchhiker

Heavy buckets of rain..
Falling from the sky
An explosion of heavy downpours..
A cold chilling night ..
feeling the bone chilling cold..

The sound of pouring rain is a safe haven..
When indoors..
Warm and cozy at home..
Homebound for the night..
Feeling a sense of security..
Dreading the moment of departure..
Departing from my safe haven..

Driving in my car..
On a deep dark road...
The sound of only heavy rain..
The sky is crying a thousand tears..
Windsheild wipers are moving at the greatest speed..
Hautingly eerie..

Briefly I see someone standing at the intersection..
A women desperately needing transportation..
Standing with an umbrella in one hand..
Thumb standing in another..

Feeling such compassion for a women desperately seeking a ride..
With no hesitation I stop and pull over..
A women stranded on a deep dark rainy night..
I have done a good deed for the night
A good Samaritan I am..

The Hitchhiker entered inside my car without hesitation..
Stating where her destination would be..
I..
Without hesitation proceeded to drive her to the destination..

Visibility is quite poor..
I continue to drive..
The hitchhiker pointed at her destination..

I quickly pulled over..
With a warm smile..
She thanked me kindly
Was indeed so grateful for the ride..
I questioned her destination 
As there was only a massive sign  
The massive sign ..
Of which..
Stated it was a Cemetery..

She graciously beamed..
And stated..
" I have come here only to escort the others to their permanent home ".. 
I must go now..
Rest assured you shall be rewarded for your kindness..
Goodbye for now..

Astonished and amazed..
Goosepimples had appeared instantaneously..
And ever so rapidly on my arms..
Strands of fibers
Standing straight..
I watched the woman hitchiker walk away happily..
A warm and lovely glow
A smile on her face..
She gracefully walked towards the cemetary..
And with a blink of an eye she completely vanished..
Vanished without a trace..
The gracious hitchhiker..
Was she a spirit guide in disguise ?
An angel in disguise?
A deep dark mystery shall always remain..
On a cold and rainy winters night..
Driving alone along a deep dark highway..



Copyright © Robertina B. | Year Posted 2018


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Dark Days Absent From Light

Dark days absent from light.. Confinement, entrapment.. Darkness surrounds..
Sadness dominates.. 

The air consists of bone chilling cold.. Chattering teeth.. Shivering body..
With eyes closed I begin to float.. 

I am floating now. So graceful and peaceful..   With eyes opened.. 
There is freedom.. Gleaming light surrounds..

Happiness dominates.. Air consists of only warmth..
Body feels warm and toasty..
Absent of Darkness..
Brillance of Light..


Copyright © Robertina B. | Year Posted 2018