Best Frigidness Poems
I can hear the mouthless wind
loudly howling outside my window
Its wingless unseeable form whipping through
the leafless trees
riding the branches wildly
And blowing falling flakes onto every available space
and covering them in white giving them
admirable shapes
Oh yes indeed
what a magical sight to gaze upon
And although I happily enjoyed watching the snow soundlessly gliding down
kissing the ground softly and forming beautiful landscapes
The harshness wind is toothlessly bitting through my bones with its frigidness
So I think it’s time to turn up the fireplace for some heat for my chilly bones
And maybe a cup of delicious hot cocoa to warm my soul
Because
baby it is cold outside
Akkina
2/1/21
In times when I was met with frigidness,
and cruelty scraped my fragile skin,
I may have whimpered like a pup
or merely shaken it off.
Those memories remain
somewhere in my brain
but not in a
place of joy
or of
grace.
I
prefer
to lock up
old injuries,
and some I may have
concealed so very well
they linger as in a fog.
Unlike the bliss of a first kiss,
my deepest cuts and wounds have become
memories lost within a frozen mist.
I WAS LED TO LEAD
Icicles of lead
Snowflakes of steel
The wind a gasp of liquid loss
From every branch hung clear spears of yesterday’s mighty weather
A reminder
An appointment with the truth
No scarf could keep me warm as I walked and wandered away
Puddles awaiting ice to be
And quilted jackets were not much protection at all
I continued to stroll with blood red cheeks and lips cracked and chapped as well
I came upon an icicle whose voice only I could hear
As it refused to drip, to grow thinner or to melt
A steadfast ice cube for Mother Nature’s rum and coke
and a line or two wouldn't hurt
Stoic was the snow and the ice wouldn’t say a word
No one to stroll the Streets of sleet to seek a secret sauce
An oblique, opaque frost of frozen memories mixed with minutes of monotony and a
wolf fanged wind with an axe of frigidness
And yet that one icicle stayed it’s place on a branch of births and deaths
Then came down hail of concrete and stones from the sky as each cloud began to
bleed
And some bodies were frozen in place
A horrid day with horrid weather and a horrid date with a “come hither” from heroin,
sweat and the intestines of regret
And by the way, icicles forged of lead never melt
(c) 2011.
indistinct chatter
sweeps through my mind
like wind through trees
in winter's high pitched shrills
as memories twirl
in a spiral of thoughts
my heart pauses
beneath fragments
of shrouded warmth
once found in love
and this diminishing sun
i am hesitant to stand aground
where rains have come
between winded breaths
like these trees
naked on dampened hills
i too shiver in the depths
of coldness, alone
bending, almost dropping
to the accepting ground
bitter trails
of the unworthy
drop at my feet
like leaves of autumn
only to crumble
within the moments
of allotted time
i gasp
in what takes my breath away
momentarily
before i hear the depths
of my mind speak
as if warning my heart
to wake from endless dreams
halt to all possibilities
of treading on thin ice
beneath winter's frigidness
and bury my heart
behind the walls
that protect
so i do not fall
and drown
in the depths
of tears again
I catch a fleeting glimpse of her room from the hall,
my back slams lightly against the wall,
slumping listlessly, my anger out of control.
As she lies in her hospital bed, tubes patrol
in and out of every conceivable opening,
with new vital bodily fluids dripping
monotonously, in time released droplets of life
through the needle pierced veins of my wife.
Abruptly, I feel the cold uncomforting
frigidness of this smooth wall unyielding,
pressing firm against my back, in this hospital hall.
Reality becomes my depression shawl,
covering and smothering all of my senses.
Angrily my muscles push and body tenses
rejecting the insensitivity of these unfriendly walls,
and began repetitious canticle paces
through the drab, inculpable, uncommitting hospital halls.
Tears rush to my eyes flowing furiously,
focused anger colors my face visibly
revealing the naked fury of my livid crimson brain.
My heart beats with the resounding of pouring rain.
Pounding with my self incrimination, as I seek others to blame.
Doctors, Surgeons, God, others must drown in this shame.
Anger rolls through my entire being, allowing no one to console.
This anger is pervasive, it permeates into my soul.
Our oneness is evident, she stirs and I know.
In another universe, I sense a furrow in her brow.
I turn swiftly, my pace quickening to a full stride
at her door and move quickly to her side.
A moan, a gasp, a sigh, a groan, a cough,
but, the medicated trauma flowing through
her inlet tubes, force her back into a heavenly sleep.
I breath a sigh of relief for her and weep.
Every time autumn's frigidness wears away the leaves grips and cause them to fall.
Summer's once green life withers away to return to mother earth.
Like every mother she knows when the time has come,
Whether it's a bird pushed from the nest,
or an infant child's first breath,
maternal instinct mixed with offspring love, together knows best.
The real test is when winter's bitter cold desires the sun,
lands are frozen, inhabiters run,
birds soar towards the south,
the worst's yet to come.
Continual Cycle of seasons of change
Constantly challenges the strong, the willing, and brave.
I know when MY spring blossomed a life that I can call mine,
summer followed and seemed endless forever alive.
Deep inside your mind a day can last forever,
fall slowly creeps by, while we all spend winter together.
Hotel Lobby
There is nothing quite so lived in as a hotel lobby.
The seats are worn with daily use, the lighting just the right depth to hide the shadows who have passed through its angles, sharpened with use.
The maître d' returns my watchful eye with disdain
I do not belong in this hotel lobby;
Too many children and shady businessman and painted women have sat where I am sitting, waiting for Charon's taxi to take them back. Even the staff are prepared for the shift change, when they can drop their suits of sophistication for a simpler garb to present to their families.
Only the maître d' has made his home here, in the twilight zone between the powerful heat rolling through his glass doors and simulated frigidness within. This lamp here is his candlelight for lonely nights of black-clad faceless staff with pinned-up hair.
I am here to observe the wakening of livelihoods; the pre-amble of business meetings; the preparations to an outing day.
Perhaps only after will I feel the need to sleep.
The Slothful Musings of an
Indicted Leech …
… I suck. Simply put, I suck.
Attaching my slimy being,
surreptitiously clingy,
nauseatingly smooth,
ingratiatingly insidious,
onto warm sources of
sustenance.
I suck, I leech, I drain,
the elements of good-nature,
turning smiles into profitable
ventures,
sucking, leeching, draining,
the beings I encounter,
suctioned cups of guilt,
of predatory precision,
surgical frigidness,
clinical intent,
sucking, leeching, draining,
till fattened,
bulging with burgeoning gains,
flush with siphoned-off goodwill,
bloated by hubris,
slipping away,
slithering into my den,
creeping on borrowed legs,
seeing with donated eyes,
cloaked in spurious fabric,
I leech, I suck.
Self-pity my only refrain,
flushing what is left of a soul,
down,
into the welcoming drain.
Frigidness forces blood through these veins.
Age old affliction shadows us, producing pain.
Thoughts penetrating the darkness and night
Relishing their fear the only desire and delight
Voraciousness eternally the maladies' truth
Fatefully when turned each maintained its youth.
Necessity forces us to sleep before breaking dawn.
Wandering forever we scour for every new pawn.
Understanding Heaven will never be our haven.
Living while dead forever monstrosity's sin
Prayers unanswered hell genuinely our plight
Purposefully chasing termination to our fight
Reality tossed aside romancing every reaction.
Justifying our very existence the true affliction
(Note: taken from a diary of a young lady)
In memoriam of Jose` Maria
aged twenty, drowned.
I lounge on an uneven stone
under the uneasy shade
of an ancient carob tree,
away from the hot rays
of the summer sun.
I sit alone, abandoned,
I contemplate in vain,
for my thoughts wander on you,
who left me in the lurch.
I stare vacantly towards
the mighty sea that
like a cyclone of frigidness
buffets the darkened rocks
that form the inlet.
Wave after wave
enters the narrow strait
and rumble onwards
to the horrendous shore
throwing iridescent sprays
over the plaque of cold hard marble
that hides a tragedy of life.
Under the Iberian sky
prickly pears ripen
a stone's throw away
from the glinting shore
amid the green olive trees
slightly wet with sea spray.
The plaque seems to glow
in the hot summer rays.
I wonder what made Jose` Maria
swim in that turbulent sea.
Maybe he searched for treasure lost,
or hunted for the slippery octopus,
or mourned over lost love.
A life destroyed.
Am I not astray too?
I am so far away from you,
forsaken and unloved,
for you are like the sea, drowned
in a cyclone of frigidness.
"Ave Maria" playing
in the background
distant chatter fading
my emotions asunder
like the dandelion
in autumn's air
soft wishes
blown about
i always curse
this time of year
it's the crossroad
of life and death
where everything beautiful
rises to glory
in its splendor
dancing gleefully
before becoming grounded
lost in the echo of wind's moans
succumbing to an end
the bareness of trees
with nothing left to strip
as they shiver in this frigidness
gathering little warmth
from the raven's roost
as he awaits fatality
a top its soulless branches
i feel the same nakedness
with every kiss
pressed softly against
lips silenced of life
i shiver within pools
of emotionless tears
beneath the numbness of years
as "Ave Maria" plays again and again
September 17, 2019
it is beyond where I see what no one sees,
as fond as the children of the, birds, and the bees,
of those famous few words as the 7's of seas,
as rotten as the nectars in the most poisonous of trees,
given this day, is taken in a breath,
as a product of hatred, is a product of death,
taken it by the heart for you will not hear,
the swiftness to the beyond, they will not cheer,
blind to his magic and weak to his gaze,
the frigidness of his presence will put you in a daze,
remember this phrase
beyond the dark you must not see,
that cloaked in this evil will surely be me.
Something has you really dazed
You seem lost and kind of phased
Confused, hurt and really blue
Tell me what happened to you
What made you feel like this
Taking away all your bliss
Leaving you in a weird place
There's a look upon your face
That is new--your eyes are blank
It's like somebody took a crank
Winding you up--letting go
Watching your emotions flow
From a wound up shattered heart
That has been bruised by a shot
Of despair and heartache
Leaving you to bend and break
By a person that can hold
The master key--turning you cold
From the frigidness of steel
Stuck in your back as you feel
A twirl of emptiness and loss
Take that key out--try to toss
The memories in your mind
Hallucinations will not wind
You up if you find
It is just all from a time
Of a bad and upset past
Shake it out it will not last
Reality will soon shine through
Happiness heading back to you
didicate to the one lady who feels compelled to write the most compelling reviews of
my work only a precious few are willing to peruse, and honey no matter how tall you
are you stand four feet higher than i.
THESE N.Y.C. DAYS WERE CRUEL AND MIGHTY IN NUMBE
Icicles of lead
Snowflakes of steel
The wind a gasp of liquid loss
From every branch hung clear spears of the majesty from yesterday’s mighty weather
A reminder
An appointment with the truth
No scarf could keep me warm as I walked and wandered away
Puddles awaiting ice to be
And quilted jackets were not much protection at all
I continued to stroll with blood red cheeks and lips cracked and chapped as well
until I came upon an icicle whose voice only I could hear
As it refused to drip, to grow thinner or to melt
A steadfast ice cube for Mother Nature’s rum and coke
and a line or two wouldn't hurt
Stoic was the snow and the ice wouldn’t say a word
No one to stroll the Streets of sleet to seek a secret sauce
An oblique, opaque frost of frozen memories mixed with a wolf fanged wind and an
axe of frigidness
And yet that one icicle stayed it’s place on a branch of births and deaths
Suddenly hail of concrete and stones were heaved from the sky as each cloud began
to bleed
And some bodies were frozen in place
A horrid day with horrid weather and a horrid date with a “come hither” from heroin,
sweat and the innards of regret i felt
And by the way, icicles forged of lead never melt
(c) 2011.....Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Crystalline floe’s fade in the amber glow;
shadows chill the foliage to white crystals
I cast my eyes to the orange and lavender sky
and breathe in the frosty splendor of the
snowy mountains silent facade.
A lone doe stands watching the river,
hoping perhaps for a drink of the thawing
aqua; I breathe in the scent of snow-laden
evergreens’ breath, filling my lungs.
In winter, the river is untainted,
as the crisp cleansing of the seasons’
frigidness will give birth to new beginnings;
I contemplate and revel in the
majesty of upcoming new births.
3-10-2021
CONTEMPLATION Poetry Contest
craig cornish