Best Colder Poems
I feel like my nights is getting colder...
There's a lot of weight on my shoulders....
So much pain that I can't take....
So many smiles that I try to fake...
Living in a world with black walls....
Walk a little then fall in deep holes....
Try to reach high to see the light...
But there's no strength left to fight...
Use a pray for one rain drop....
Wishing to go back in time or make it stop....
Drowning pictures with my salty tears....
Starting a new life and throwing all of my life years....
All what I do is fantasize....
So I can believe that I'm a live....
I feel problems cutting my throat...
And darkness is getting over my thoughts...
I'm paralyzed and I can't make a sound....
I'm in a place that no one can find....
So I go back to god and pray....
Cause he knows what's inside with no words to say...
Maybe god will wash my sins....
And maybe my tragedy soon will ends....
The colder the winter the warmer the spring,
Where from nature’s palette life’s colors are drawn—
Though mute I must be in my heart still I sing,
For the darker the night the brighter the dawn.
The deeper the sorrow the greater the joy,
As shadows and sunlight play alternately—
No doubt or despair can this longing destroy
For my wild swan brothers soon to be free.
When misunderstanding and envy abound,
When devilish obstacles threaten me,
I must tap an inner resource profound—
For the wise will rejoice and the foolish flee.
The fiercer the tempest the sweeter the calm
That will promise a splendid rainbow to bring—
Though muffled in silence may all hear my psalm—
The colder the winter the warmer the spring.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Song Lyric, from: One Two Three a Trilogy – Three – “The Wild Swans” – a rendering in musical theater by Harley White – based on the Fairy Tale by Hans Christian Andersen (1805—1875)
Excerpts from Trilogy – click on “Trilogy excerpts”…
[ harleywhite.awardspace.com ]
Oh my dear friend, its time to vent it out. Forget about the control, forget about the petrol , burn yourself up in the luminosity of your novelty. Let your hands freewheel, let them dance on the tunes of your vehemence. Clear your throats and recite that unheard and unsung poem you once wrote in a closet for the artistic satisfaction.
Can’t you see the world in complete disarray, can’t you see the Beauty of Women been brutalized and vandalized. A lot of contemplation goes into penning down verses on Women’s mysticity, but those verses are like dead ducks in a plush milieu. Place them among your brothers, among the crowds, in the Flames of atrocities and believe in the substance. They have the power to rise and conquer. They have the depth of your Conviction.
Crowd is storming and buzzing but disoriented. Gather it with your fervent Voice. If you believe you are pious, share your last breath with them. If they don’t have a Face, you give them one. If they want to maul each other down, you calm their anxiety. Get over your block, come out of your closet. Leave the rodents and mice in there nutshell milieu, let them dodge ahead. You forge ahead.
If you know ‘The Vedas’, ‘The Upanishads’, ‘The Bible’, ‘The Quran’, then share them amongst the Juveniles. Embed them with ideals, enrich them with Values.That’s what Brotherhood is all about. Don’t walk gingerly no more. Don’t join that long grey line of Manhood but make your way into the Crowd.
The Stage is set. It was always there and will always be there. It was there for Mahatma Gandhi, it was there for Martin Luther King. They were the ‘Stand Up’ Guys. Forget about maneuvering your train of Thoughts. Spill out your rawest of emotions with rawest of expressions along with Tears of hope, a hope of a better future. A hope of churning out another ‘Stand Up’ Guy.
Form:
I never want to touch one Do they wear brass Never dug a well Never sat on an iceberg Penguin's not touching that I can wait on the shovel Don't have an ex-wife Not kissing her mother Ha Ha never seen lawyers with hands in their own pockets I have never cut class that way I have never got ice cream from a cow
I live in a wooden house
I cannot turn on the fireplace
’cause I may burn the walls
Winter has already come
and the snow covered my garden
and cold froze the neighbor’s water well
I look through the window
and wait for you to come home
I’m so cold and I can’t feel
the blood in my veins
you know, I’m not one
of those who hate this season
I love the sound of rain on my ceiling
I adore the steam coming out
from my mouth to the glass
then draw weird shapes and smile
I like to wear my pink jacket
and my Hello Kitty hat
That my grandma bought me
then going out to build snowman
like I did last year
well I admit that I’m always the one
who eats his nose
that’s why I told you,
you shouldn't use carrot anymore
it’s our third winter together
but for me it’s the twelfth
’cause during those three years
under the same roof
I knew only one season named cold
all my days were winter
your arms were always frozen
that even when you hold me
I feel like I’m paralyzed
your words are so dry
and your mind is always emptied
you asked me
“Why I like to hug and kiss my snowman? Isn’t too dank?”
ooh baby, i guess you never knew
that you’re colder than a snowman!
I can feel warmth
even if you bury me under the frost
But I’d be cold,
even if you built me a castle in your core
if you wonder why
I’m still living in your frosted palace
you should know that even if
you’re colder than a snowman
your heart is warm by the flame of mine
and if I go,
you’re gonna lose the meaning of your life
even though you will never admit it
when you look into my eyes…
We met in early summer
when roses were blooming,
and all we thought of was being
in love more than any other!
People look at us and clearly see:
what they had once in their grasp and heartbeats,
but they lost it to uncertainty
without the scented wind's breath on their cheeks!
Don't walk in bright moonlight so sadly,
forgetting that it shone for us so happily:
show your gladness for having me!
Don't be colder than the winter snow:
you have my hands to keep you warm,
never be afraid of walking through the storm!
By morning you'll discover the calmest sea,
and the brightest sky over a pretty willow!
Don't be colder than the winter snow,
lay on my chest, it's your soft pillow;
look further, see a beautiful star that stupefies;
watch thousands of fireflies traveling to Mars!
Don't be colder than the winter snow,
and think that no flower will ever grow!
Written on 11/12/2016
That night amidst cries, clamours, din,
When coffin scandal headlines claimed,
We shuddered— such was stench of sin,
Those in snow felt ash grey, ashamed,
In sullied caskets feeling ill,
But lay still, stunned, shocked by surprise
Their valour frost, vain felt their will,
Frost bitten, battered, somewhat wise,
Those done to death but not wood-bound,
Peered out from their snow-covered face,
Shocked, surprised, by news snow-drowned,
Would they ever regain lost grace?
Pondering on greed of a man,
Of those on a decision-making chair,
To what lowly depth fall they can,
The stink was felt in frozen air.
Yet, such things go on from times old,
Let us not lose our well-earned rest,
Why worry on what we’ve no hold,
We’ve duly done our honest best.
Let’s lose not our well-deserved sleep,
None can one’s dark taints sanguine paint,
Let Judgment Day come, said a saint,
They’ll a deserved karmic crop reap.
But we still wondered deep within:
If those wanton souls saner be,
Wrapped in a life of utter sin,
If their sordid deeds ever see.
There still lingered a nagging doubt,
Our sacrifice would go in vain,
The truth if ever would come out,
That, culprits might innocence feign.
Whilst we wondered as never ere,
Whilst the clamours carried on still,
As frozen hearts could no more bear,
Still colder felt the nightly chill.
_____________________________________
Happenings | 06.08.2008, revised July 2022|
Poet’s note: A disgrace called ‘Coffin Scandal' in the purchase of coffins for dead soldiers, it claimed headlines in newspapers for a long time. This poem takes off from it and depicts an imaginary dialogue between the departed souls of dead soldiers (it was the war with Pakistan in snowy wilderness of Ladakh) and the sentinels of life after death: Was after all their sacrifice in vain?
I have just felt
A wind can blow colder
The snow will not melt
Til we will get older
The wind chill factor
Can freeze you quite solid
There will be no reactor
Anyone would be stolid
Was the change of the season
That made the earth change
It can be the only reason
So you can’t think it strange
I froze off my butt
It felt so darn chilled
Could of froze off a nut
Or anything that was spilled
I hope it does warm
So we can go out
If the icicles form
There’s no need to pout
We can go skiing
And play in the snow
Even go snowmobiling
Or out to a show
I like when it snows
And gets cold enough
Just not when it blows
It can feel pretty rough
We all can feel
A cold wind blowing
It’s not a big deal
I just want you knowing
The touch of a frost bitten hand makes me chill with a flare of passion.
Death is my only friend and i cling to to this fact the cold over dose makes my body numb.
Warmth is like a blade to my skin it dosen't fit in to my life like most other things
Fire is an enemy i blame for many things.
Colder then ice is my soul, passion only seems to come by bold out goings of standing in
twenty below, The danger of dieing lingers like a first kiss and a smile dances on my
lips, my eyes tweak with fluttered excitement.
I feel weaker each day of summers breath breathing down my neck i wish the white winds of
winter would take me away a slip me into my cold shell once more.
Form:
I constrict and recoil from the bitterly cold wind
The sun so bright it hurts through the clear sky
Soft melancholy music bounces from the perfect acoustics
And I drink my despair ravenously as I cry
My winter's pain is almost too much today
Profound sadness shoves me violently,
tearing my old sweater
scuffing my worn shoes
I mutter some passive nonsense to myself
Hoping tomorrow it will all go away
Hoping tomorrow I'll find someone besides
me to accuse
The words cut through the air and soon it is over, all over
Her hands slip from his, like one last raindrop sliding off a leaf
The smell of candles waft from behind him, and he turns away as she leaves
The romantic dinner sits on the table, cold, and lonesome with two empty chairs
As he turns back to where she once was standing
He sees only a flash of car lights as she drives away for the last time
Somehow it seems so surreal, the room is silent and still; after all these years
All the years spent with her cheerful voice and playful laugh surrounding him
Now all he can hear is the soft humming of the refrigerator in the background
While the candles burn down and the dinner grows ever colder
A half-hour has passed and yet he stands his ground
The longer he waits the harder his heart starts to pound
Tears cover his cheeks as he falls to his knees
Without a word or a sound he covers his face and weeps
And all the while the candles have burnt out and the food could be no colder
Form:
I am awake
there is no sun
Continue to arise
Yet the day feels like it's done
Cold and silent morning
there are no automobiles on the road
The trees have eyes
They are the only ones to stare back at me
Coffee on the table
Morning dew dripping from the ceiling
The paper boy forgot to bring me the news
This city is deathly silent as the pain of nothing ensues
I slowly turn to get myself dressed
The fear is within me that much to confess
Earl of the daylight
Pauper controls the night
when the work day(without anyone around)is done
Gentle man is weary,the younger folk has won
They have left an old fogey to moan
Treading off to the country side
They want John Denver to take them back home
it is irony that I wallow in misery
Generation Y goes back to a simpler Songwriter's story
Form:
She is colder than
Most with emotions.
With her it's just going
Through the motions.
Her womanly ways and
Perfect figure.
No hesitation when she
Pulls the trigger.
Her tan skin and
Dark eyes.
BEWARE! A word
To the wise.
Her full lips,
Her long fingernails.
She is 100%
Bone-a-fide female.
You smile when you
See her look.
You're guessing, she is
A closed book.
Her radiant smile sets
You at ease.
The way she moves,
With expertise.
She is at her weakest
In the morning.
She never prepares when
She hears the warning.
No matter what,
A smile on her face.
It's like she has
Fallen from grace.
You can envy her
Lack of attention.
Easy going, calm,
No sign of tension.
No emotions show
In her eyes.
No hint of confusion,
Or look of surprise.
She is not stuck-up
Doesn't brag or boast.
Be careful,
She is colder than most.
Turbo1904 ?
Can anything be colder than a day
When clouds of winter make the sun’s embrace
Become a shadow of its former grace
And summer’s verdure gives in to decay;
When snow like burial garments shrouds the hay,
Bleak nature trudges with a mournful pace;
The winter’s gusts make sharp cuts on the face
With blades concealed, as though designed to flay?
Yet, when love’s ardent flame burns out in vain,
The silence answers all unselfish pleas,
The tired wings can’t find their resting nest,
Not even death can ease the inner pain.
Thus, winter’s cold feels like a summer’s breeze
Compared to what remains inside my chest.
A time to fall.
A time to rise.
It's not as cold if you close your eyes.
A warm heart.
An empty head.
Another hit, another miss.
Don't expect anything from nothing unless time can produce something.
If that something is important,
use all the time you have.
Dedicate your life.
A time to dive.
A time to swim.
It's time for recognition.
Scratch that inclination thats been itching you from the start.
Separate yourself from the hopeless.
Pick your battles.
It's time to strive for victory.
The clock is ticking
No time to ignore the un resolve in your heart.
It's time to make a move.
Good or bad.
Win or lose.
It's time to make a move.