Best Frost Poems
I stand at the wooded edge
where goldenrod bows with the wind's wave
its yellow heads nodding in agreement.
A chickadee perches
its heart a tiny drum of joy
echoing the forest's pulse.
In this moment a smile radiates—
not mine but the earth's—
a ripple spreading
a gentle caress touching all it meets.
A maple leaf lets go
red-gold luminous
spinning down in a silent dance
a quiet farewell to summer's warmth.
I catch it as a gift.
How strange, this silk
between bird, leaf, and human
this quiet belonging that holds
as frost approaches.
What is this feeling
but love's quiet whisper?
This moment
but life itself, distilled
to its essence?
And now, having tasted
this wild sweetness
how will you carry
your one precious life?
There’s a beguiling danger in beauty…
seduced as I was by the fickle fingers of fate musingly stroking my hair,
I envisaged
this lusciously lavish landscape
of sun-raptured heavenly hills and valid valleys
to be a lush, plush place for me to land ~
alas, such deception my naive perception did offer.
Buried beneath the facade of a fertile dream-come-true
and a mesmerizing mirage of natural light and zephyrus breaths -
where your thoughts hugged the horizons of my mind
like clouds on the edges of prairie dog skies
and where your stampeding passions trampled my inhibitions -
were delicate bandeaux of ice;
finespun and feathery like polar gossamer
that formed on the stems of your ruptured dreams
that then became my nightmare
when you had your hard freeze
while warm sap still flowed through your veins,
pumped and pushing through your broken being
and freezing on contact with the chilled clime
cocooning me, in a sudden silken surge of your glazing gauze
holding me, in the vivid wild magic of your frosted crystallized clutches -
fossilizing me, in icy opalescent ribbons of ornate whorls.
Unable to escape the grasping glacial petals of your exquisite pain,
your frost flowers plunged me into the frigid heart
of your bitter bluestem’s prairie winter...
There’s a beguiling beauty in danger
hypnotized and hijacked
as I was by the rhythmic sways of your tall grass ways -
your flickering tongue tasting my air
as my emotions were extorted
till I was bled white -
obviously oblivious
that I was being preyed upon
by a stealthy force of nature motivated by indigenous instincts.
Susan Ashley
March 13, 2018
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Poetry for the Sake of Poetry
Sponsor: John Lawless
*bluestem: tall grass native to the Great Plains with bluish leaf sheaths*
*frost flower: thin layers of ice extruded from long-stemmed plants in autumn or early winter. These thin ice layers form dainty ‘ribbons’ or ‘petals’*
Permafrost upon the boughs,
in a glistening diamond wood;
where the water meets the Terra,
thin sheets in semi-melt
perform a slow ballet.
O last withering leaf hold on to the bough
Whatever be the terror caused by the lightning
Whatever the ruthless winds may avow
Your glory lies in waiting until spring
The sun did not cross the barrier of cloud
To save you from the tyrant hands of frost
You had the gift of survival endowed
You are breathing still, all isn’t lost
Take courage, hold on, don’t let it go
The earth may prepare the hearse for you
Chilling winds may move you to and fro
The gardener aiming to pick you and throw
That may be true but, if you break in despair
My plea not consider nor my counsel care
The delicate young shoots then who will shield
From the onslaught of the fierce and cruel wind
Dear Mr. Frost
....
You gave to me a close-up view
Brand new eyes to see the world
The smallest things were brought to light,
enhanced and made to stand alone
You loaned to me new polished shoes....
to walk through words and see them clear
You reached beyond your own despair
and filled my life with something rare
You found a jewel in each small thing
In ways that I could then, relate...
A leaning barn, ...a field of wheat,
a country road beneath my feet
A picture of a bird in flight against a sky of prose and slate
Rural life became alive...
Reflected in a visual climb
....
Your losses came, and with a cost…
You held me fast within your spell
Perhaps it helped you nurse your soul
I was inspired from the very first...
The first time that I read your verse
I felt a need to share and tell....
Finding beauty between the lines...
To see the detail....to magnify...
To see moth's wing against the vine...
Beauty in the smallest thing....you made it mine
You gave the words to fan a flame...to build a fire in my soul
....
With every poem, ...you held me tighter
handing me the ink and paper
to show me ways to write it better
No matter whether children's laughter or
trees of apples, kitten whiskers....
A thing of beauty in the simple thing
You woke my world and made it sing
_______________________________
Tightly closed, the petals warm
the autumn heart that summer lost ~
a blackened bud, once struck with cold
appears to others dead,
but burns within - a passionate soul,
and heart of bright and crimson red!
As a misty autumn succumbs to winters harsh chilling grasp.
The sky turns bleak and hues of shrouding grey.
The ominous days unfold shorter and colder.
The remnants of vegetation lie pitifully withered and sparse,
as nature rests dead and in the throes of decay.
Early morning frost like sprinkled powder
smothers a barren land
and shards of ice hang from naked trees as fingers of a hand.
Dewdrops appear like goosebumps,
along a parade of wrinkly naked trees.
Bare branches and rooftops seem lifeless,
as birds have no desire for frosty serenades.
Trampled iced leaves, decay in ashen damp air,
as snail-like sluggish humanity adorns its seasonal fleece.
Despite winter's scentless bitter breaths,
the soul ignites an internal bonfire -
radiating a vigilant glow to the surface.
Silent One collaboration with Peter Dome.
13 November 2020
Winter’s silent soul
Kisses away the darkness
With trembling flakes, snow feathers
Cardinals whisper
Blessing the breathless prayers
From hearts who feel love’s inklings
Soundless as snowdrifts
On the edge of a shadow
Caressing the mountains, the stars
Imaginations
Lift the spirits with lights,
Dazzling rays of hopeful fires
Burning away nights
Hues of laughter, kindness sighs
Erasing the fears, the tears
Stirring memories
Moments who prick the spirit
Collecting joy, so gentle
Endless reflections
Melancholy bleeding through
Branding love onto the dream
Aching frosts, bitter
In graceful, glacial coolness
Amazing artic natures
Imagine loving,
Through the snow blanketed days
Rising to find what love means
Drifting on the stars
Enchanting hopes, glistening
Stardust winter tones, rustling
Winter subsides, soft,
As the mellow flurries, calm
Bearing the twilight season
March arrives soon, winds,
Blowing away the last gusts,
Inviting the spring’s new birth.
2014 Robert Frost Poetry Contest
I am proud to announce once again
I have had the honor and privilege, have had/ had
to be allow to line the trashcan of the allow/allowed
Poetry Judges office at Robert Frost Farms.
An Honor I look forward too next year !
This Year' trashcan liner Year'/year's
Entitled
The Poet Frost
That poet lived not far from here
But I could not see, nor hear him talk
I read about His chopping wood
And Mending Fences make of rock make/made
I heard that he had pasted away
When many eyes gave birth to tears
I was only six, that fateful day
Now, five more score in years
But through the passing of the seasons
His rhymes and verses have remained
A guiding light, that I find pleasing
And as for this, I count it gain
I did not meet the man called Frost
But know him well, for words he penned
I try sometimes try to think his thoughts
And walk his fields from end to end
I feel his presents, while on his farm Presents/presence
Where nature speaks his sonnets so
With loving hands he planted words
Then stood and watched the poems grow
If I could only farm, like this
to draw from natures inspiration
Then writing poems great like his
Would be my cherished occupation It's no wonder I end up in the can
lesson: Never proof read alone
by JT Curtis
Jack Frost adores nipping at our fingers, toes and nose.
Always dressed in white, he hides outside our homes
Creeping out in the dead of night
Keeping his icy wintery fingers busy
Frozen fronds of fern like ice white frost
Resplendently dress our windows and gardens.
Our surroundings are adorned by Mother Nature’s makeover.
Suddenly scintillating snow falls softly on the ground
Transforming our world into a winter wonderland
Contest: Jack Frost Acrostic
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
11~27~15
They wouldn’t let me be White
Oh I wanted to be
Dreams of that Pulitzer haunted me
They said, Sir, you have ten minutes to play
I gave them Milton, Poe and Millay
I stood before that panel
Like I was auditioning for Jesus On judgment day
I belted out those rhymes like Sandburg
Gave them sweet elegant words
I gave them personification and anapest
Gave them Trochee with syllables unstressed
I played those Robert Frost Blues
Those Road less traveled Blues
Those Thomas Hardy
going down on the Titanic Blues-
And they said, Son, You could be the greatest
Since Langston Hughes!
And oh I was out of sight
Switched up / Got Fancy
Moved the stressed syllable
From the middle to the right
But still they wouldn’t let me be White
I had every judge popping their fingers
Moving their heads from left to right
So I took a bow
And smiled up at those lights
I gave them Dickinson, Browning and Keats
Oh I had those White judges on their feet
I played until they saw stars
A judge leaned over and said,
You remind me so much of- What’s his name?
Paul Lawrence Dunbar
I played Eliot I played Cummings
I played Stevens too
I had those White Poets out of their shoes
Oh I lifted them a hundred miles off the ground
But when they came down
They said, You could be the next Sterling Brown
I said, Come on! Get out of town!
I closed that audition with my best Haiku
They said, M.e. Don’t take this wrong we like you
I took a final bow I had performed to their delight
But still they wouldn’t let me be White
Years tilt
Crazing appears
Age leans into the wind
My daughter whispers... 'it's time to
Retire'
11/25/16
where death has dealt it's fatal blow
an angry sea it bears to mind
a swell of tears begins to flow
in words,no haven do I find
for memories run true and deep-
and so I weep
and so I weep
~ Frost
by
design
~ delicate,
crafted in the night,
dainty — like lacy handiwork
~ inspirational, like twisted wire, a story told —
details meted out behind heaven’s door, with peculiarities that we adore
~ O
please
inspect
windowpane
crystalline effects ~
~ seraphic white silver and gold —
the finest craftsmanship, twisted with Eden’s treasure ~
filigree beads of angelic hoary-breath, reminders of the invisible God
~ Rime
clings
to soil,
inspired world —
embraced by cold hands ~
fragile tendrils spread like ivy,
intricate cherubic smithing — like spider webbing,
subtleties sensational, O how it sparkles ~ seasonal diamondiferous earth
1/24/2018
The Magic Of Three
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Fibonacci (8 lines) x 3 = 24 lines(pattern- 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 syllables)
frost glitters like glass
proof winter is coming fast
dreading the snowstorms
November 4th 2019
A late Fall or Early Winter Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin