Best Naturewinter Poems
In silence, undisturbed tonight,
how softly, deeply Winter creeps,
imparting token mounds of white.
In silence, undisturbed tonight,
Full Moon, who casts pearlescent light,
is keeper of a world that sleeps
in silence undisturbed tonight.
How softly, deeply Winter creeps.
Posted 12/30/09, my 8th post after
I joined right before Christmas of that year!
For Brian Strand's
ANY POEM FROM YOUR FIRST 100 ON PS
any form/any theme max 15 lines Poetry Contest
Winter be but two weeks old and already they lament.
No passion seems as strong as their loudest prayer for spring.
Spring will come when it will and wake the grasses and willow.
Let Natures brief time of slumber last long enough to rest her.
The winter be time for beauty to be found on ice etched panes,
And bayonets of glass, hanging from every eave to be seen.
Winter be found in crystalline air so pure only heroes inhale it.
And footsteps crunch like breaking luttuce upon the snowy ground.
Beyond winter times will speed and rush their way forward.
Spring then Summer and Autumn sprinting to their ultimate ends.
Let winter luff her way on tiny frozen feet while fire warms yours.
Add another log and settle in for a long nap and a dream.
December sun that hangs so low
To crawl across dim Winter cloud .
You were our friend six months ago
And wrapped me in your Summer shroud
Of coloured gardens , full of bloom
That scented life
In my living room .
The long cold shadows that you cast ,
Like the frosted breaths of early morn
That linger ..., yet , but never last ,
Like some dark and dreary love forlorn .
Memories of your crisp, clear cold
Long Winters past
Wrapped , but still unsold .
December sun of blinding light
No takers for your offer , here .
Your short day and your long cold night
The dying throes of one more year .
Your only pal , the Winter snow
Is children's friend
And farmer's foe .
Our fig in January, entirely denuded now
like my heart in your absence, is but
more beautiful, if possible, in its seasonal
solemnity than in summer's exacting extravagance.
The trunk, grown massive in manhood, is a citadel
of strength supporting the curving bowl of its
branches as they bend back into themselves, becoming
the bare black sculpture of winter trees Hemingway
described in Paris in the Jardin of Luxembourg
where we used to walk, following in his footsteps.
These prayerful branches, grown as large as
the beanstalk giant of storybook lore, cup
the sky, making a sieve through which rain filters,
better for unobstructed passage to its
earthbound blessing, clearer for the distillation.
Above ground two massive roots, more visible
in winter definition--veins from the beating heart
of the tree--though siblings still, sprawl out
in different directions, then disappear wherever
they are traveling, who knows where? Not
climbing skyward like Jack on his leafy ladder,
but earthward out of sight toward a Southern
provenance, toward Provence, perhaps,
as if impassioned for home.
HAPPY NEW YEAR FELLOW SOUPERS!
The last leaf did fall,
winter clouds bring the first storm.
Earth rest in slumber.
Most birds have gone south.
Cold winter winds staying now,
sparrows search for food.
Some have black and white
crowns, some just two tone brown.
They hide in the trees.
Sun is bright, cold day,
rest upon Earths frozen crust.
The water is frozen.
Birds seek human friends
to feed and keep fresh water,
with help they survive.
Oh, the sun shines and the wind blows
the crisp, apple-wind, blows,
laughing through the half shorn tresses
of the sugar maple trees.
Oh, the sun shines and the shadows fall
like long gray mufflers, foreshadowing,
the wraps of winter winds
and frost on dawn's green grasses
Oh, the sun shines and the heart sings
full and ripe as the pie pumpkins
waiting to be picked
and the comforters calling from the beds
of cuddling children.
Oh, let the sun shine for it fills my soul
for when the dark of winter persists
I will remember this.
~soft mountain blankets
goose down like flakes, winter store
potential life thrust
~El Nino awake
a weather serpent slither
energized frolic
~white mountain blankets
cascade floods of winter store
aroused mud demon
For and in honor of Carol Brown
And Contest: Nature Comes to Life
My great-grandmother is sitting
outside in the winter sun,
with a double-felted deel,
snow white hair,
and a hat,
just taking it in.
I play at her feet, and I
make a racket,
running fast about,
I raise dust in front of Great Mother,
whom even the birds ignore.
The quiet fire in her gentle soul
was once very fierce they say
but all I see when I look at her,
is the calm warmth in her eyes,
while I play at her feet
with the clouds, rocks
the desert spirits, and the sky.
She moves with effort, no complaints,
she takes upon all the worldly cares
feeds, clothes, and shelters me,
fetching and tending,
to food, water, and fire--
Ah, fire, they say, she broke hearts
of men who rode over mountains
who crossed icy rivers;
and they say, she knew,
Knew, and her hair grew more gray,
when five of her seven children--
the exact moments they each died.
As I play with the clouds,
the rocks, the desert spirits, and the sky,
I know my Great Mother--
she lives in them all now,
somehow in that cold winter sun, she's still
sitting there with a double-felted deel, and a hat.
As I play at her feet, running fast about
sometimes I glimpse her snow white hair, and,
she takes upon herself
all of my worldly cares.
Lilac ladies
you sleep inside your winter buds
of grey branches
that move
with April's gentle wind
wake up your sleepy folk
burst out of your winter beds
for Spring is upon us
and we wait for you in anticipation
to flaunt your fashion frocks
of lavender blue and angel pink
of virgin white and burgundy hue
upon the stage of a forthcoming May
waiting patiently in the wings
to herald a glorious summer..
Gloomy winter mornings are replaced with light
The dark and dismal days now seem more bright
The leaves now start forming on the trees
In the delightfully lifting warming breeze
Daffodils lifting their heads so high
Colourful flowers are catching the eye
Bluebells arise filling barren nakedness
Cold and frosty mornings getting much less
Sheep all flock together the ewes and the rams
Soon the ewes give birth to their little lambs
Green is taking over from the colourless land
Its renewal time in spring we understand
Springtime is seen as a time for new growth
New life for the plant's and animals both
From March to May the springtime is here
Daylight hours expand and rapidly appear
March has the ‘Merry Weathers’ April has 'showers’
In May it is improving and is brighter for hours
The axis of the Earth increases its tilt towards the Sun
Spring is a season which comes after the winter is done
As the last rose petal falls swiftly down
The last of the great roses of summer
What a great summer that was lived_you known
Rose had much character an affirmer
Fall approaches with sure desolation
Only bare branches with prickly thorns left
Mocking Bird nest with nesting cessation
Protected by the Rose as in a cleft
Used up_bare waiting for winter's cold breath
Not knowing what this winter chill will bring
As the petals flood onto the ground_death
Hope awaits but winter comes with its sting
Will the sap rise again coursing through vine
Revitalization __ one bud sure sign
The snow has gone, melted away,
The air is fresh and sweet.
Bundle up, it's still a cold day
And off, our friends to meet.
Shaking off the winter blues,
It's time for a nature hike.
To visit and catch up with the news
Shared with friends we like.
We're out of shape and we start out slow.
It's supposed to be fun, after all.
So follow the creek, a trail we know,
That leads us up to the Falls.
Cameras are out and clicking away
As the water cascades down.
This time of year it's a powerful spray
With such a roaring sound.
In winter the water rushes on
So powerful, we're filled with delight.
By summer the same creek is almost gone.
Not nearly as an inspiring sight.
So the first walk of the new year
We'll start out nice and slow
But to each other we'll make it clear
The next one will be a 'real hike' you know.
Step aside, Mr. Gore, as the world's people rebel
Despite your predictions, Earth is not as hot as hell
We took your global warnings seriously at first
But for your dire forecasts, we no longer thirst
UN scientists who'd backed up your warnings
Now say there's no evidence the planet is warming
Instead, a mini ice age raps on a frosty door
A whiteout winter lingers; snow still covers Earth's floor
Was it all a ruse to propel yourself to the spotlight?
As the blizzards wreak havoc, you've fallen from our sight
And worse, we are left to wonder why you paid no heed
To historical cycles that made your theories weak
Prehistoric species fell during a period of heat
And proof of past ice ages are preserved in Mammouth meat
So please do us a favor and stay, as now, in hiding
Your doom and gloom prophecies we are now deriding
With each shovel of unprecedented winter snow
Angry Americans shake their heads and want to know
If it was the speaking engagements and book sales
That led you to express your global warming wails
Or did corporate backers of your "green energy" business
Lead you to attempt to spoon feed us utter nonsense
Pollution is of great concern to all with conscience
But attributing climate cycles to it simply made no sense
The UN scientists now say they've lost all supporting data
Belief in "global warming" has been tossed back at ya
brace for five inches
frozen forecast repeats “snow”
winter storm coming
“12 to 24”
Weather Channel jumps for joy
winter storm warning!
the blizzard arrives
eighteen hours of snowfall
twenty-one inches
morning reveals drifts
waiting for my shovel's edge
to wreck their beauty
sore, aching muscles
attest to snow-free walkways
shovel stored; wine is poured
breathing is painful
windchill at 30 below
following the storm
brilliant sunshine
crystal drifts of sparkling snow
adorn my city
She stays at the back of the room while the other seasons
Have their time in the sun, in the rain
She whispers to Winter when Summer shines center stage
She squeezes next to Summer when Winter turns the world white like a page
She rarely speaks to Spring
Eventually her moment comes
She shyly walks with paints in hand
She doesn't feel grand,
But her art is
Beautiful
Breathtaking
Brimming
Color and change
Drama and tranquility
She gives everything to the canvas, the trees, the sea, the wind
She creates
Until the clock chimes the hour of the cold and sleep
She steps back into her uncertainty
Waits through Winter and Spring
Until Summer's performance is over
She'll return to her finest artistic endeavours then.