Best Frozen Over Poems
Comfort me with the beauty of flowers
where the sunlight beams dance warmly supreme
Devoid of any tears, cruelty or violence
a veil falls away opening petals kiss deeply surrendering
Seasoned between the vertical light and darker clouds
it becomes hard to breathe in your shade breathless sighs
Love does not change even if the earth is frozen over
but as you melt into the mind sweet honey dew springs
This night is all souls night, you can not fail to feel it
residing inside the eyes fountain of forever youth
For the glance of one gentle heart, she will be your bride
radiating warm flames glow anointing preciously the union
To share along the way, feathers from Heaven every day
touching gently the softest satin holds you an angel always divine
A Collaborated Poem 05.12.2015
Anne-Lise Andresen and Liam Mc Daid :)
(Unrymed Couplet )
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.
I wanna fly away to Cloud 9, and live in a euphoric state of mind
Every thought is another tic, on the the inevitable hands of time
Go to my utopia, and be carried by golden chariots with silver trim
Fly above a sea of angels, and never feel any pain again
But instead, I learned to make art out of scribbling lead,
Entering another dimension while I had head rushes flush through my head
And flashbacks attack and jump at my back, when strength lacks
With venomous ways, it's torturous but I learned to strike back
Every bad night is awaken by an even brighter day,
And while the moon hides low, the sun comes to brighten the way
So fight for today, tomorrow might not come burden free
Think better thoughts, unlock better locks, and better is what you'll be
Somethings are better left unsolved, I'm not Sherlock Holmes
But I'm a detective who detected how to fight wars, with out leaving my home
I'm blacked out with no emotion, frozen over and told that I cant shine
They tried to take my light, but I'm to bright, when I scribble out a rhyme
And as the rain drops fall, we all stand up taller
We all get manipulated, we're all wearing a shock collar
It doesn't matter the reason, that you're hiding in the dark
Every last soul, has a route to it's heart, through its spark
Note: All lines in this heap are from failed sonnets that I tried to stack without having any two consecutive lines come from the same poem. I had to break the rule twice. It was nice to find a use for this trash, though. I'm sure a few can relate:
Often I think of how the canyon laughs,
what jokes, I muse, would free stuffy stockades?
And if the sheep had herded men with staffs,
would darkness come out, not into the caves?
What lambs or sheep use cripples just for skin,
to drape within the light from early day,
From their helium balloon canyon’s den,
How would they know if tides were high to stay?
Of milk lavender tulips, though, I flow,
as satin lace in leather stirrups through,
The march I may in august do in snow,
for hell has frozen over, don’t you know?
Yesterday, even, on my t.v. screen,
I saw a child wearing a shirt that said:
“Help save the volta, doubles have been seen,
Terrible truths of one that two are dead!”
So sink and seize this season's silliness,
who does her hair while wielding a sword,
unspoken are the kisses between us.
when prayers pray for want of loving lords;
Yet, my own veins feel lighter they do,
she cuts at skin but doesn’t say good bye,
I’ll tell you this, that it doesn’t do you,
hand me the Kleenex, someone spit in thine eye!
I was in love and now I’m still in love,
but she, or you, you spin me crazy love!
But then, I breathe, as canyons laugh at me,
What? Laugh at these! I hope you stay thirsty!
Maybe if I could do what I wanted
Go wherever I wanted…
I’m detained
My emotions
My thoughts
My opinions
My wants
Are non-existant
Im passive
I submit
I’m not
I am not
Everything is okay
Nothing matters
I won’t be anything here but submissive/insignificant/nobody
My Self has fled
Im DOC# 454056
Imma get by
Imma get out
I hope my Self won’t remain dormant in submission
I hope my Self will recover from numbness and incorporate some of the qualities
Of DOC# 454056
This is not depression
This is emotional purgatory
I don’t know anything –
I knew something
I knew opposition
Opposition was on fire
Now frozen over by passivity
Its a new day.
The clouds have parted.
I see a brand new way.
Hell has frozen over.
The demon has been slain.
Nothing will ever be the same.
I feel joy I haven't felt.
I've been released from the fray.
I've tossed the shield.
Burned the blood soaked uniform.
I finally feel as if I'll be okay.
No more the violence.
No more the sadness and the pain.
No more internal acid rain.
I've called my last death.
Ill never again;
walk in nightmares;
and shoulder the damage.
Ill never again;
hold myself to blame.
Tears of relief fall.
I've checked out of that horrific game.
-Angel Fatale-
Sliding beneath the ice, frozen over the miniscule lake of grey
Orange shapes move like treacle, mingling, bumping, breathing ice.
They do not eat in Winter, they eat the most in May
Their memory spans are fleeting, vanishing in a thrice.
The day flows by just like a slow moving river
washing over all in it’s path
carrying away the cares of those in need
of this moment in time.
Moving down and away forever
as far as you can see until the night
when thoughts turn to a new day that might
flow by just like a slow moving river.
The day just like the river flows it’s determined way
as the river silts the bottom covering it anew
the time of the passing days likewise hide what once was true.
A flowing river is more or less changeless.
The seasons determine if it’s surface will be calm and slow
or fast and choppy or perhaps frozen over.
It’s below the surface that history flows and is recorded
A Quatret To My Wife
When hell has frozen over,
And Hades’s dogs sleep quiet,
Love’s plant the blessed clover,
Will bloom a mossy riot
Love’s urgent thrust’s a miser,
Brings lovers’ secret moan,
But woman’s touch, a riser,
Tis butter on a scone
And with this love I worship,
The path on which we walk,
Our voyage is such a fair ship,
Does vex all others’ talk
Written for contest 16/7/15
Pumpkins discarded as late autumn cleaves
Burning cherry wood scent floats in the breeze
Landscape quite barren with sparsely clad trees
Magical whirlwinds of colorful leaves
Sharp sting of Jack Frost in the atmosphere
Short sun deprived days fade fast without care
Unlikable cold nights grooming despair
Crystals of frost display winter is here
Ponds frozen over, ice skating begins
Crisp morning air turns to blustery wind
Lashing flakes of harsh snow the heavens send
Dark, dreary clouds as a blizzard sets in
Cars stranded on roads show the aftermath
Schools closed due to weather in the forecast
Winter’s cold fury, a frigid north blast
Dreams of springtime in a steaming hot bath
August 28, 2016
Death’s fair haired blue-eyed boy
Rode his white horse into the West.
Where they stepped the flowers
Trembled in the earth.
A sign? A significant coincidence?
Like meeting death in a bar
Or someone you never knew in a ruined garden?
The night was awash with stars,
Rotating galaxies, black holes.
Alpha and Omega came and went.
Nothing started that had not already begun.
Nothing ended that had not already been done.
The motions of time numberless, though finite,
stalks the horizon and undoes the
Grasp of life bit by bit
And holds the last of it in the knife edge of light
Falling into the very last room but one
Any of us will ever inhabit.
This is the end my friend, the final awful end.
This is no light matter of which I speak.
Passion swallowed us whole like the sea.
But only you came out alive.
Complicated and opaque, you were a star system unto yourself.
And released your spears of dark words like shards of hate at unsuspecting targets.
Evil genius and artful dodger, hell will have frozen over
And pigs will have flown if you found heaven when you died.
In the last nighttime with all the stars spinning your last breath away
Were you afraid
As your life ran out into the dark and cold?
Or did something else take your hand and bring you
Into the great warm night
Where your molecules took
Flight and slid giddily through space seeking
Another life, another face, in some other less inadequate
Universe.
12/31/13
My own reality
Can't you hear me talking to you anymore? My eye’s following your every move. Should I give up or embrace your touches?
My wounds are fresh and open your hug your kisses are like the salt of another truth what am I to say when my breath disappears.
Hey! Don’t ignore me when it fits you the best, like the snows in the twist the open hole where my heart was frozen over.
What other words should be entitled to convey the words I can speak but fear of the rejection. Standing tall and being dumbfounded are to different things. Nor am I plaything for you. But I shall believe in you and with every lie you tell shall it cut clean through.
Fall. Fall. Fall. Down to where the devil resides and tell the lies of the dozens. What a fake world did you live in where you could smooth talk your way into someone heart, have lost your ever loving mind?!
Of course the price is high to give up your ways for everything you see and hear as the price of devils height.
So how shall I explain my reality to you?
I see you smooth talking your way into a problem to blame on another.
I see you breaking more heart then a Casanovas streak path.
I see you stepping over the ones you’ve made fall.
I want your warming embrace but at the price of hurting myself how should I let this change me.
My wounds are fresh and you lie and fake promises are the salt into those wounds, do you enjoy killing me?
This is the reality, the only one I know, my own reality.
I'm lost, in empty hallways, with no way to go,
I'm endangered, and my legacy lives through the way that I flow,
But I'm not intimidated, the more you tell me to stop, the faster I'll go,
My heart has frozen over, so no emotion is what I'll show
If the streets were as deep as the ocean, then I would drown in disgrace,
My words, are the Titanic, breaking the structure, of my paper and drowning my sorrow away,
I'm not dreaming, I'm succeeding, because reality is fake,
And the future is getting closer, I taste of it everyday
I live for the feeling, that I get when I got my hand on a pen,
And all the pent up thoughts, are released when I leak the ink that's within,
But through all the rythm and the beats, that I hear all the time,
Nothing beats the feeling when I expose through a ryhme
So I'm gonna put together syllables until my brain goes dead,
Or until I'm riding in a hearse because of the things I said,
I'm gonna climb this mountain, nothing can make me stop,
because the reality of it is, my resting place is at the top
February and its much-vaunted chill
comes down with vengeance, and does what it will,
this lake that in summer jams full with boats
is now frozen over, nothing can float.
Most people stay home at this time of year,
and a whole new set of sportsmen appear,
seeing as I walk, the snowmobile tracks,
patterns in the snow, absent where it lacks.
There are lots of trails in the nearby woods,
lots say the sledding around here is good,
I see them out there, riding towards the sun,
a pack of black wolves, having lots of fun,
still here the hum of engines blaring far off,
I think I’d try it, if not for the cost…
A few yards ahead sit a small shanty,
a man drills the ice so vigorously,
uses a hand-augur, this guy’s old school,
looking to find fish in waters so cool…
he has three lines out, now it’s time to wait,
drink beer with his friends, shoot bull half the day,
hoping to see what his efforts will bring,
only the steadfast go for ice-fishing.
Beyond that are tracks, coyote from the looks
the lake now a highway, free of the woods,
you see where they loped, crossing back and forth,
to field and forest, always seeking more...
more rodents hiding beneath the white snow,
the ice makes it much easier to go.
In the distance a town, by the lakeside
blocks of ice formed in a castle do rise,
cut from this same lake, for the festival,
the kids run around it, so life’s not dull,
and by that rises the toboggan chute,
its outrun is the plain of icy blue,
every year folks go down, sometimes quite far,
then walked back, amazed, by just where they are.
I can understand that, making my trek,
as I walk along, I must crane my neck
to take in the mountains, brilliant and clear,
unobscured because no trees grow out here,
the broad, sweeping vistas that we all love,
for me the feeling of that is enough,
most folks stay inside, but I love to take
long walks out upon a well-frozen lake.
Oh Muse wake up from your hibernation
I know it is bleak and grey outside
and crystalline snowflakes are falling
but I have writing to do and I need you
I will just give you a gentle slap
hello Muse . . .
The river is frozen over like a mirror
snow drapes all the bare tree branches
and I am dreaming in verses
why are you being so distant and hiding
I will just give you a soft nudge
hello Muse . . .
I know Muse that you usually come unbidden
but I need your help with my bottled up words
so lift your sleepy head and lets write
for I am drowning in swirling verses
you asked for it so here it comes- SLAP
oh, hello Muse . . .
Lets take a deep breath, a pause
I am holding my pen, Muse, just waiting
for the curtain of beauty to open
my mind is flitting like a dizzy moth
oh, do give me a moment, Muse, Muse
hello Muse ?? (are you sleeping, again)
there you are with your hush so soft
like a spiders web- a blanket of words
and the depth of my tears and heart
weep from my pen as blood dripping
Muse, now I am writing free . . .
_______________________
January 5, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/ hello MUSE
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1101-243-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.