Best Chilly Poems
In a brief retrospective
with melancholy eyes
September with
the dominant color,
under the leaf falling moon
Never forget the smell
of spring and flowering
a freshness of love
The sleeping earth of winter
waking up under the sun
warm kisses
- never too early
His rain-washed face
and cool breaths in autumn weather
Season of mists fades in the west
- brooding over death
I made coffee and had a fire
Warming this cool October morn
Come close let us fill heart's desire
I made coffee and had a fire
In warm sunlight amour transpires
Our rekindled spark of love born
I made coffee and had a fire
Warming this cool October morn
In the chilly hours of the graying gloaming,
silent shivers rise from the estuary.
Just before the waves churn in frothy foaming,
Goddess Moon approaches Her adversary.
Sun slinks away at Her approaching homing,
slowly shedding His cloak as Luminary.
She reigns all through the darkened and leaden night
until stubborn Sun returns, anew and bright.
Bitter, bitter, bitter
not as in a taste on tongue
or unrequited loves' remain,
only of wind thats wrung
all warmth from the air.
Bitter, bitter, bitter
all the way through to bone,
clenching chattering teeth,
and breath blown
on mittened hands.
Shine of sun to deceive
beckons one out of doors
brain has an idea of sun
that roars
away outside
caught in bitter's bite.
autumn folds its leaves
a flora of crooked hearts -
sympathy and tea
Early, chilly autumn morning
A light curtain of fog hangs low
Faint rusty colored leaves, sights bring
Through the curtain, as it lifts slow
Things are a bit hazy for now
Still waking from coffee, I walk
Knowing later will clear somehow
Then maybe I’m ready to talk
The weather changes around me
And I am ready to let go
Of nagging images I see
Replaced by this beautiful show
Heidi Sands
10/14/19
With blurred vision in my one eye,
on this cold winter afternoon
I trace the course of a blue-black fly
in my small kitchen. Pretty soon
my boredom gets the best of me.
Once I eat a macaroon
I rise to make some jasmine tea
and wonder why I allow this bug
(who does not share my philosophy)
to sit there resting on my mug.
I do not know what's in his head,
but think he must be awfully smug,
so I get up and leave. Instead
of drinking tea I go to bed.
Sunrise mountain peak
Snow paint swirls on rock-strewn lake
Chilly Alpine Morn
Entry for Raul Moreno's Contest
NO ONE WANTS TO LIVE IN A COLD HOME
from the album "Heaters for Sale"
by Not Paul McCarney
No one wants to live in a cold home, cold home
Uncle Albert says you should go home, go home
Turn the heat up or sit by the fire
Toasty as upon a funeral pyre
Oo-hoo, because
No one wants to live in a cold home, cold home
No one takes the longest road home, road home
Put your feet up next to the blaze
Toes become candles before your gaze
Ooo-hooo!
I gazed through an iced crystal pane
Looking at three winter backdrops:
A tree is struggling under snow
Its maple branches drooping low.
Two small flowerbeds are asleep
beneath very deep, white blankets.
As I gazed, I became entranced;
All of the snow had disappeared
Revealing the presence of spring-
Tiny, green protuberances
appeared from numerous branches;
Rudimentary daffodils
and tulips rouse from their slumber.
Then I blinked twice and all was gone;
except my yearning thoughts of spring.
i love your embrace
your arms soothe my stressed pieces ...
please scratch my back some
cuddling is pure joy
your touch is my therapy ...
your feet are so cold
"Chilly Air"
I ponder on the things I have done;
the choices that I have made.
As autumn has begun to change the green of nature,
to have a hint of cadmium red.
The air has a chill that cools my lungs
and puts goose bumps on my arms.
I reflect on the autumns that have past,
and how I rustled through the neat rows of fallen leaves.
I'm so dumb that when I ordered a chili dog, I expected it to be chilly.
But when it was hot, I demanded a refund, I made myself look silly.
The Hot dog vendor said that thinking is not one of my strong points.
Back in the 1960s I guess that it was a bad idea to smoke those joints.
If chili dogs are hot, does that mean that hot dogs are cold?
Maybe I'm suffering from senility because I'm pretty damn old.
(This is a fictional poem)
Chilly Chandeliers
Moth-like flakes danced around the streetlights
swaying in rhythm with the wind
11/11/2016
submitted to – SNOW – Poetry contest
One little flower
Trembles in the autumn breeze
Imagining warmth