Best Cold Poems


Premium Member A COLD WINTERs STEAMY

The staticky-stars climax under intense blanket of Winter glow.
Your spouse can’t see your spirited green eyes that burn slow.

The friction of campfire sticks, the satiny slipperiness of moon.
Flames of blue, orange and red won’t be overcome too soon.

Pert rose petals, that once were goosebumpy and ice cold,
scintillate like fireworks until the grand finale’s loosed, uncontrolled.

Warm breath in a cold Winter’s steamy and a restless beast.
Lips lavish over late night feast, matches singe, sate increased.

Squirming under the leisurely complement of coals, coalescing,
Coolness of a blue lake vaingloriously countering, distressing.

A long midnight’s thrashing, sans pillory; the high beams foray.
Pillow talk, a sensuous squeeze, a high-diving elixir bouquet.

Ah those stars brilliantly glowing on a long Winter’s night!
Those limbs blush, rose petals crush, with unfettered light.

The Cold of Winters How Can My Words Perceive

The many winters I had seen
When  once I was a teen
Gathered inside our small living room
Joy and simplicity our faces illume
Warm with laughter at striking stories
Light is the heart and empty of worries
My sisters and sole brother
The treasure of my father and my mother
Mum, our angel of the earth
The springs of our gaiety and mirth
Moving in the magic of her young age
Our hunger for hot food would assuage
Would even bring a piece of paradise
To us, if we dared ask, for any price
Dad, overloaded, would tread miles for our sake
Serene reassuring smiles while so much at stake
The nights echoed holy verses dad used to read
Developing a sense of belonging to his creed
Opening our hearts to the graces and blessings of the Divine
In my veins, a life of a tender love I’ll ever enshrine

*****

Many winters had passed
Still nourished of a so precious past
Confined to the tranquility of the  night
The magic box would offer dreams in black and white
Stress and concern evaporated and lost weight
Soft whispers.. suppressed giggles with life pulsate
The quietest of corners I would always look for
My sanctuary, my home made bookstore
Ever my worlds side by side shaping the inner me
No single worry over the one whom I would be
Why would I when I was entangled in more than one story
Preened myself on my pen musing in my world of ivory
My younger sis who of English knew no word
Would grant me her patience and love for what she heard
Love and most of all contentment and gratitude
Deeply remained, the reign of my worlds and my soul food
The cold of winters, now,  how can my words perceive
In my realm of poesy what of warmth willing to weave
The winter of our Life which many abhor 
My wishes I will have the grace to adore.

Premium Member City Frozen Cold

Verse 1

His coat is torn his 
shoes are thin
The cold cuts deep beneath his 
skin
Little boy coughs small 
hands that shake
Winter's breath is much to hard 
To hard to take. 

Verse 2

Sidewalk echoes silent 
prayers
People pass but no one 
cares
Cardboard kingdom borrowed 
time
Every step is a mount- 
Mountain climbed. 

Chorus

And the city turns 
away
Like they never ever knew his 
name
Still he holds his boy so 
close

Chorus 1st Ending
Runs through streets to bring him 
home. (1x repeat back to beginning of chorus)

Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son, we're going 
home." 

Verse 3
Once had a home once had a 
plan
Once held hope in calloused 
hands
But fate’s a thief it moves much too 
fast
Dreams dissolve like breath on 
Stained kissed glass. 

Chorus

Bridge

And he sings a lullaby 
so low
Soft as the falling falling 
Angel snow
A father’s love is his sheltering 
Wings of warmth
Even when the nights are 
Broken broken and torn. 

Verse 4 

"Daddy I’m tired my chest feels 
tight" 
His voice is weak his skin much too 
white
Stars above blur in his 
sight
The world fades into endless 
Endless cold night. 

Partial Chorus

And the city turns 
away
Like they never ever knew his 
name
Still he lifts his boy so 
close
Runs through streets…..to bring him 
home. 

Final Verse

He stumbles down an empty 
street
The world is ice beneath his 
feet
He kneels beside the frozen 
City of stone
Whispers "Son… we’re finally 

Finally home."

Chorus

Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son 
we're finally 
home."

Outro 

The snow drifts soft the 
Sunday morning gray
No one stops and no one 
Left to pray
Two souls lost in winter’s 
hold
Together now, for- 
ever and ever

In a City Frozen cold


Premium Member Lonely World

How populated this lonely world often feels
with so much warm flesh living cold and stony.
Some days, we ache for someone to hold us,
smile into our eyes like they wholly know us.

As humans, we talk and talk our searching words
though others grasp only their perceptions heard
and live unaware that their walls thus occurred.
Hearts all desire an embraced soul revealing
of where’s and why’s behind the how’s they’re feeling.
Such tries manifest puffed effects, sky floating
on breezes society contaminates with
numbing subliminal fears to which we succumb.
All emphasized in society’s vise pounds
false perceptions that comfort some lives,
allowing them to safely hide in boxed alibis
where their dreamy feelings lay to perhaps die.

Deep is our need to be known and understood
as a person of unique meaning and worth.
Seems to me, hearts may be seeking in blurred rote
for meanings rarely clear after emotions smoke.

Jan You Wary

The Russians, of course, think its cool
To jump in an icy-cold pool
But I'm not a fool
And made a Mule Rule:
Dive only where warmth greets my tool!

Premium Member As Cold Winds Blow

As cold winds blow this time of year,
the limbs are bare, the winter’s here;
a frigid frost hangs in the air.
With season’s change we’re well aware
that endless nights will soon appear.

We wrap ourselves to hide the fear
brought on by darkness ever near,
and hibernate within our lair…
          as cold winds blow.

We dream of azure skies so clear;
the summer sun we so revere;
alas, ‘tis gone this weather fair.
We curse the darkness with a swear…
despising winter that we jeer…
          as cold winds blow.


December 2, 2019


Premium Member What Feeds the Cold

Barren fields of November
Corn stalks ragged
        broken soldiers
        bleak beauty
        stripped of green
Beige bones on autumn's carpet

Margins of daylight that disappear
        blending frost to the pinched ground
Corrosive wind like a wet slide of mourning
       seamlessly folded into what
                            the landscape feels

Crows circle in their swoops of survival
         seeking the scarce sweet zones of
         lost kernels
Momentum to snatch scraps, bits of decay
         in field rows that crack like smiles

Under a moody sky, gravestone gray
         sparked by the cawing of crows 
         that scrubs us clean
         in the exit wounds of autumn.

Premium Member Still Starts When It's Cold

she walks into the room
the same way she has for 40 years—
half-asleep mumbling about the price of eggs
but crap, she still makes my heart stop. 

you’re the last busted payphone 
that somehow still dials home. 
you’re the only damn thing 
that still makes sense
in a world full of unpaid bills and 
broken air conditioners. 

your heart’s a busted radiator
still kicking out heat when I need it most. 

The cigarette burn on our old kitchen counter—
scarred in, not going anywhere. 

hell, you’re a rusted-out truck that
still starts when the whole damn world’s frozen over.

we aren’t perfect but we lasted. 
and that’s better than any damn valentine poem.

Premium Member A Summer Snowstorm Cold

As I was sitting in my rowboat...at a pond at Martha's Vineyard 
I was fishing with my headphones on...listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd
Suddenly, a chilling wind...my god, I almost froze 
While fishing with some sun-block on...a snowflake hit my nose 
With "Freebird" blasting in my head...I paddled to the shore 
I beached my boat, got dressed for winter...and fished a little more
As I rowed my boat to my fishing spot...the wind and snowflakes ease 
The sun came out and warmed me up...fishing was a breeze 
The temperature had dropped that day...as the summer was getting old 
But heck, the only thing I caught that day...was a summer snowstorm cold

Premium Member The Cold War

I am winter's nemesis.I fight it tooth and nail.
In my youth it declared a war on me.
When I licked that icy rail.
Winter has many weapons to choose from.
Fear not for so do I.
A call my shovel Excali-burrr
My Ranger has four wheel drive
But winter's arsenal is no laughing matter
Icicles sent to impale, and black ice is its deadly device
But the human spirit is not that frail

I am winter's nemesis, and though it muffles all sound
This war is raging with bitter disdain.
My driveway the battle ground
I shall not relinquish my parking spot
to your mindless rabble of flakes
So bow to me you wretched season
For I shall never tire. 
and my staunch ally will soon be spring
and together we will force a cease fire

For I am winter's nemesis
And these walls shall not be breached
Until my tour of duty is done
and I retire to Miami beach
© Joe Inka  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Lost In the Cold

When pebbles knead the holes in my shoes
These torn eyes writhe from  my orphan blues,
A lost soul quivering in the cold...
I feel alone, a birth date untold
No parents cupping my sullen face;
While time grates in this runaway place.

They say that I was darn negated,
Like a package, somehow, quite hated
Thrown quickly in an old garbage truck..
But why, why, did I run out of luck?

Oh time, I no longer wish to  mourn;
To be nestled and family- born…
Still, nights cut pain; my wishes decay
In foster homes where I briefly stay.

But rags comfort me,” kid, you’ll be fine,
When adoption brings love’s true sunshine!”



-------------------
Dated 11/6/2015
For the Contest, Trashed  #4, 
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Written by: nette onclaud

Premium Member Rising From Out of This Cold Frozen Wasteland

rising from out of this cold frozen wasteland— 
a blanket white unfolds with pure hope and love
melting snowflakes on such a clear blue ocean
lying on the edge of a world that’s very scared 

while inside this mindset unfolds a radiant light 
sun shining buttercup of such special rare beauty 
in every little thing and precious detail which ever
so sweetly draws me to you my love, my darling

even the sound of your soft voice echoes on
inside with such mellifluous golden whispers 
sweetly enhancing the very music you sing 
to me which plays magic tricks so enchanting 

and hypnotizing my very soul while stealing 
my heart away and bringing me under your
spell and the softness of your wonder and love
both so overwhelming and intoxicating so fully

with this our mutual joy and love so deep and
so rare makes our time together seem so endless 
my love for you are so special and so right that I 
must pinch myself at times to see if all this is real

and so, rising from out of this cold frozen wasteland—
our mutual spirits, souls, and emotions are now ONE
my very special enchantress since fate and love has 
put us ONE on the edge of a world that’s very scared

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 20, 2014) 
(Free Verse poetic format)

Premium Member Cold, Hot and Bothered

Cold Monday morning
 He mumbles under his breath
 Car engine stutters
 As he turns the key in vain
 Temperature is rising.


 ----------------------------------
 Written ~ 20th March, 2015
 Contest: Tanka 2
 Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
 Placed: 4th

Premium Member Cold White Eggs

Easter morning- children grown
a pair of cold white eggs
sitting in a silent bowl

Premium Member Message For An Old Cold Man

November was not all that bad. We had
Thanksgiving feasts and very little snow.
The Yuletide season came. Since it was glad,
I felt so sad to see December go.

But January so far we have seen
cars sliding off the roads and freezing cold.
Blue skies I need and white replaced by green
and sunshine spilling onto fields like gold.

But Winter still persists. Up and about,
he's freezing pipes, car engines and my toes!
That old cold man has worn his welcome out.
And next month's Valentines? Well, who needs those?

It's Goddess Spring that I am waiting on.
Why hang around, old Winter? Just begone!

Written 1/19/13 For  the Winter Begone Poetry Contest
of Francine Roberts

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