Best Frigidly Poems
We see ourselves unimpeded initially
Some are stricken with a view artificially
We are told by others very specifically
There is a ceiling so proceed timidly
We try in vain with no support futilely
As we age blazing the path dizzily
Sometimes we see the results dismally
Eventually we learn to climb skillfully
We began to achieve sufficiently
Eventually finding success brilliantly
Living life with dreams so vividly
Sadly, a haunting voice still speaks flippantly
Reminding us of the ceiling frigidly
We remain in the arena mistily
Each overcautious step taken judicially
We endure the voice shouting viciously
The battle to continue is done willfully
~
Winter breathes in sepia tones along a lonely two lane street
divided amongst the sweeping frozen dunes
now forced into shouldered amnesty
Street lights shiver in snowcapped bonnets
while sidewalks sleep ‘neath blankets of flittering flakes
The air, frigidly crisp…moves of tiny chiffon sparkles dancing
Rooftops, plump and soft, show off their frosted padding
as evergreens find alabaster fingers tickling their branches
in chilled teasings and frozen dustings
Footprints, once there are gone, covered and recovered again
all evidence of life is erased beneath pearl clouded skies
and faint outlines of distant thoughts
White on black stripes drape in glacial wanderings
spanning the slush of asphalt weavings
in straight line piercings across the wintry landscape
January reigns brutal, subzero ponderings swirl
from high above the icebox wasteland, once brimming with color
now opaque in its arctic seasoned disguise…
~
Written from memory…no winter here. : )
Spring waltzes in with rosebud cheeks and swaying with a breeze.
She summons Sun and Rain to do her bidding; grace blossoms,
but she can’t compete with Summer’s sultriness; thus she takes her leave.
Summer spiritedly takes the stage as she tangos in with Sun.
As their passion scorches the ground on which they dance, storms may come,
cooling Summer off, but she leaves once Autumn sashays in.
Autumn is a playful sprite, brightening leaves for a while
and twirl-flirting with Wind as the days grow ever cooler.
Romantic at sundown, she slow-dances with shadows that lengthen.
Fall's sister, not as romantic, moves in a courtly way.
Winter enters Earth’s ballroom sometimes frigidly, yet can show grace
when she lets loose a white gown that glistens beneath Moon’s glow.
(Checked by Syllablecounter.net)
I sat all alone in darkness as if tethered to this chair.
Light enough to see shadows. My fear was hard to bear.
They were trying to be daunting, their haunting profound
as they kept taunting me. Their faint whispers the only sound.
I begged them for silence, the specters without faces.
Constantly circling, creatures who wore black carapaces.
They frigidly nudged me, chilling the marrow in my bones.
Never before had I been more frightened than I was here alone.
In the hush of darkness, I trembled trying to speak.
A tear has escaped my lashes and rested upon my cheek.
Thoughts from my past were regrets my mind tried to chase,
searching for the wounded part of me my heart wanted to embrace.
I broke the silence of the night and set myself free
by rippling like a wave that found its way across the sea.
I chased the beastly shadows, trying to feast upon my soul
and illuminated the night when I found the courage to take control.
that frigidly cold new year
I was the sole bread earner
with a seriously sick husband
watery soup was all for dinner
it was time for Easter
and spring break at school
my just-turned-teenager wanted to help
some extra bucks, he said, would be cool
he donned a bunny costume
white with pink ears and belly
outside the store where I worked
he stood waving to all in winds, so chilly
him handing candy to little kids
I watched proudly from the window
posing for a picture when asked
my dauntless little hero
as we walked home that evening
I saw a man in his eyes that shone
might've been a bunny to all but
I was walking my tiger home.
Written on:07/25/2016
Contest:'Walking my tiger home' by David Lindsay
I stand erect with outstretched hand
Representing liberty, for many, a foreign land
My fire dances an incessant jubilant glow
Pungent salts mixed with glassy sand
Linger on my tasting lips whilst serenading patina ed Ears
I Separate tyranny from average men's fears
Some may say I am mute, But I spoke in 1944,
Did you hear my visceral ROAR?
Blink, blink, blink "VICTORY"
I delivered a delightful message highlight
Dripped across the star spangled banner ed twilight
Before you come to visit me, not shoes but
eyes you should polish quite Diligently
"Do you see the iron ore disjointed?"
My right foot is LIFTED and FREE
With 35 expansive eyes inserted upon 7 spiked tiers
I've winked and blinked countless times over the many years
I monitor 7 continents and mighty oceans vast
Proclaiming Enlightened Liberty shall Last for all the bold who pass
Vessel sails chatter resoundingly as they advance in the glorious wind
Crescent waves rock me a lullaby but pierce my eyes, producing cataracts
Stars sprinkle their luminous dust like Epsom salt enveloping weary bones
Mighty storms frigidly wash a dusty old body as lightening shocks my heart
I accept their infinite, whispered gratitude
For I am graciously placed in this longitude and latitude
word count 209
Glistening, the flakes came down,
Landed and they drifted;
Sticking to the frozen ground,
Like powdered sugar sifted.
Covering the dirt, the trash,
Hiding things distressed;
Consuming gently, as if with ash,
And frigidly caressed.
Winters blanket covered all,
Calming noises to a hush;
Ceaselessly the flakes did fall,
No thing or one untouched.
The fire low and almost out,
Searching for more wood;
North and South she would doubt,
Walked further that she should.
Searchers called to no reply,
Their voices raw and hoarse;
Shouts echoed off the ruthless sky,
For the girl who’d gone off course.
Winter's blanket charms the eye,
Frosting limbs and hills;
Goodness, beauty does imply,
But carelessly it chills.
Luke Irwin
Into the valley to find my voice
that unique element
which speaks only to me,
and is feebly, at times,
echoed in my words,
I fear.
Have you been to the valley
where echoes hide
beyond glistening roads of
scorched obsidian marked:
“DO NOT DISTURB!” ?
It's disturbing.
Everything is haunted
by devilish smiles
which smother to death.
Tread too lightly, or
bear too much life
on the journey
and you’ll be lost.
Forever, I fear.
Dragon fire swallows
the cool blue of the sky, perhaps.
White-hot clouds camouflage
the sear of the sun.
Everything burns,
on the high road and the low.
Here, all sound hides
from the molten intensity;
of the voice in the valley.
My voice, I fear.
Forge ahead, 'til you see
distantly, a defiant tree.
Diametric to the horizon
and the absence of life
she beckons,
she breathes,
she whispers,
and shelters in her limbs
butterfly echoes
faintly familiar
and frigidly intense.
Poetically soft, and sincere;
they sing; I believe.
Enchanting, mesmerizing,
echoes of the voice.
My voice, I fear.
Do you hear them?
12/13/15
The wings of imagination,
the flights of fantasy,
the sky of puffy clouds,
the rays of rising sun,
the clamness of moon
encrusted upon the stars,
have brought me down today.
I ponder continually
in the ensconced shell of mine
with inchoate thoughts creeping into it,
discovering the flood touching my feet.
The water
Rising slowly,
and slowly
englufing my ankle,
my knee,
and….
Yet I continue to dabble
to explore the fire it immures,
to affix the values of richness-
on the immutable fallow poverty.
And I feel someone near me,
consoling me.
“Hey dear! Don’t weep, I’m with you”
“Hey dear! Don’t smile, I’m with you”
but,
the vocabulary has changed today!
The persons around me
have brought with them
pieces of burnt chandan wood
as the proof of the fact
that ‘someone’ died-
….. a millions years ago.
But ‘his’ funeral pyre burns ‘there’
and burns endlessly….
And,
They force me to rise,
to move,
to the places undestined,
throught the roads never travelled,
‘the road’
which perhaps leads to the ‘pyre’
and I saunter frigidly
with my eyes closed.
Now,
Even the darkeness can’t encompass me
which has desceneded in ‘my’ eyes
As I’m blind.
That’s so good they cannot get the stars!
The hand in soft glove won't help them to steal
The precious gift that meant to shine for us,
Its freedom’s a subsequence unforeseen
It is much tough for beauty on the earth
That spends its time in wary and precautions.
It’s known well to all who got a birth
That beauty’s here just a trophy option.
As a game before, commodity’s today.
Immeasurable was frigidly apprised..
All the signs were mixed by swindling wave
No one's suspicion of exchange was raised.
Unlike the stars the real beauty got
To learn some arts of everyday street fight,
Plus running, shooting, killing of a spot,
Arm-wrestling, boxing and fast sizzling sight.
That will survive and save the humankind!
Damn the ideal. Appreciate t’ result.
When real beauty is no more a divine,
That’s so good they cannot get the stars.
That’s so good they cannot get the stars!
21.08.2004
Window curtains in my room sway with the silent winds;
The cold smog crawls on the frozen garden covered with the mists.
I see everything slowly fades but the splendor around never chagrins.
Would it be romantic to stare at the fog in the middle of a secret tryst?
A cup of coffee would be a perfect match to savor this picturesque scene.
So I could finally wear my old-borrowed jacket; I wish this would persist.
The hazy trees in front of my cottage house seem to look like a Halloween.
But this soul contrarily feels different looking at this painted-gray minute.
It is frigidly aglow and mesmerizing where the murk meets the serene.
My pale nails and skin are freezing but not my riveted spirit;
I am awestruck with the cold season’s mystic beauty.
I wish I could lend my eyes to my sister so that she could see it.
Sonnet to Hope
Ice crackles audibly on car and face,
Windy blasts slap frigidly at the back door,
How to escape this cold day’s confinement,
Surprise! Outside, Lantanas in full bloom.
Baby yuccas illumine a fence corner,
Their mamas and papas died dry last year,
They taught them the meaning of Texas springs,
Their infants are in full yellow flower.
Teased by the warmth of south winds yesterday,
In their innocence will they fight to stay,
To meet the redbuds in a week or two,
Hold on children, winter is almost through.
Now silhouetted sleeping trees, leafless
Pattern a glorious and purple sunset.
Those eyes trapped between thick lines of kohl, frigidly stare
But yet glued to the screen.
Those eyes tire with the glare
But are possessed by a power unseen.
A hundred emoticons fast as a pulse
Yet none stir her expression less face,
Nor, was there a moment of impulse
As she typed with a practiced pace.
She did not not notice as a breeze blew her curls,
Nor when the screen blurred her eyes,
She was busy abbreviating her words
Finding solace in a world of lies.
He painted a rosy escape, dragging her to the edge,
The edge of an abyss, an abyss of his love.
His words lifted her, prepared to fledge
Far away from the chaos above.
The breeze failed to stir a single ripple in the abyss
She dreamt of gliding through it
Soaking in its bliss;
For as long as fate would permit.
She waited on that very edge, where she was told to wait
The edge, where her heart beats too fast.
She curls her toe, undaunted by fate
His love, she knew, would have it recast.
Autumn breeze frigidly touches ailing dreadful lives
Harshly darkness quietly surrounds the broken souls
Mellow serenades that once played between hearts
Pathetically have transformed into bitter sad songs
Somewhere beyond the flossy clouds
Cupid has lost his romancing arrows
Plays sad sonorous tunes on his bow
Dedicated to all weepy lonely hearts
Howling chilly wind blows through the mist
Sounds of sorrow spread allover the place
Fuzzy humid air submerges the inner lust
Lives decay slowly as the autumn leaves fall...
Autumn breeze frigidly touches ailing dreadful lives
Harshly darkness quietly surrounds the broken souls
Mellow serenades that once played between hearts
Pathetically have transformed into bitter sad songs
Somewhere beyond the flossy clouds
Cupid has lost his romancing arrows
Plays sad sonorous tunes on his bow
Dedicated to all weepy lonely hearts
Howling chilly wind blows through the mist
Sounds of sorrow spread allover the place
Fuzzy humid air submerges the inner
Lives decay slowly as the autumn leaves fall...