Best Snowbank Poems
“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." ~ Anne Bradstreet
Winter’s quick wind slips shadows through my soul,
Risking dawn’s light, leaving a mournful glow.
Deprived winking stars, moon will still console,
Grasping night with promise of graceful flow.
Wintery breath clasps the silent snow’s fall,
Rescuing each flake with cool, frosty thanks.
Gasping at the dance, beauty not so small,
Braving the night, gentling even snowbanks.
Wintertime comes and goes, leaving light trails,
Glistening joys, falling from the night skies,
Racing to meet life with enticing tales,
Memories of sweet love that never dies.
Winter’s easy light glows into the night,
Moving souls to hear its legend so bright.
Little boy scales the snowbank
in Spider-Man boots
stomping snow,
relentlessly
a focused performance
superboy tantrum, gushing discontent
flattening worlds imagined
crushing lands gripped by villains
His mother, nearby, gleams
like heat under a stove pot
a wary gatekeeper,
extending love unmatched
to watch the giddy rush of boy
to dream a soulful future
to wonder on the needs of self
to view a son's awakening
in the freedom of spaces
Little boy
unfinished work
putting his stamp on joy
as bits of snow fly like a tale unfolding
As a mother watches the elastic bounce of youth,
till the real world runs away with him.
Poem composed: January 23, 2021
I'm a polar bear, just that.
Don't ever call me bi-polar
or I'll angrily maul you to death!
Take a good look at me;
I'm a hulking menace.
Don't let my elephantine size
fool you. I'm surprisingly agile;
fast enough to chase down
an Arctic fox!
I'm a formidable apex predator
and wanderer of the North Pole.
When you don't see me,
I'm probably in hibernation.
My hunger is unslakable.
I can eat up to 10%...
of my bodyweight in 30 minutes!
My dense coat and body fat
insulate me so warmly that I...
sometimes overheat in summer.
When I do, I cool down by
plunging into the ice-cold sea.
Did I mention I can stand and
fight on my hind legs? I'm like the
energizer-bunny; incessantly mobile,
roaming hundreds of miles across
the barren Arctic tundra
in search of seals and fish.
I'm all dressed in white;
the snowbank, the perfect camouflage
for me to suddenly sneak up on a prey.
Invade my frozen kingdom at your peril.
I rule the arctic wastes like the king lion
rules the Serengeti!
Submitted for...
Strand Select A ,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 02/01/2020
Date written: 01/24/2020
Written March 8, 2012
Death mixed with morning rain and darkness,
Icy patches hidden on the pavement
Lived comfortably on the outside
As I rode along in my car like the
Planchette of a Ouija board.
Unaware that the power(s) that be
Were battling against each other
To push my car on the board to
Spell out either life or death,
My morning thoughts
Were interrupted
By a 360 spin faster than
The distance between
Two thoughts...
Ending up muffler-first gagged on
A snowbank with nothing,
No one around for miles.
I gazed at the three-lane
Highway where LIFE
Was spelled out this time,
And realized that
DEATH may have been on the
Board thirty minutes later
During a busier time.
Thirty minutes later
Found me talking
To a mechanic
Instead of my family talking
About me in the past tense
And trying to communicate with
Me through the Ouija board.
Death inefficiently cheated
Marked off on My To Do list
For the day.
How many more times will
I be able to mark that off?
Dare I ask the Ouija board
Knowingly sitting in the corner
Of my closet?
Tired body aches. Long walk on starry night -
ears attuned for bear at creek, or cougar.
Nothing, not a doe.
But that afternoon
came upon a healthy young buck in a meadow.
High up. And a hawk left a feather for me.
Old, old stands of lodgepole pine, grey bark
like wrinkled hides of elephants. Thick carpet
of dead needles.
Thirst. Sit at snowbank
for an hour eating snow. Burn tongue.
To soon after stumble upon a pond and the place
that a creek springs from the mountain. Water
indescribable. Eat ravenously and drink deep
gulps.
Climb highest rocky peak at dusk. Razor-back
ridge. Mother hawk scream nearby. Must
backtrack and then go straight down near dark
feet fall through layers of scrub pine, hands
grab for the live stalks only support against
broken bone.
Choose steep narrow bed of loose rocks,
surely waterfall in some other season and descend
on ass and all fours, feet first always fearful
it will end in an uncontrollable hundred foot drop.
Trickles of water nearing bottom.
Cracked hands, raw
behind, cross final snowbank and attain road
along Snake Creek.
Jack slide across the slippery ice to land on his…
Ass frozen like an icicle in the dead of winter…
Calling out “help me, help me!”
Kicking his body every which way he…
Falls yet again on the cold marble floor… of glass…
Rolling and spinning he tumbles steadily toward the edge…
Of the glistening mirror staring back at him…
Singing a chorus of “Ouch, ouch, ouch” he…
Takes a deep breath and finally reaches… the towering…snowbank!
December 7th 2015
For the contest: “Acrostic: Jack Frost”
on her lawn
four pink plastic flamingos
peak above a March snowbank
twisted forms caught in forlorn evasion
beak-body contortions like wrestlers resilient
in pretzel formation
unmanageable remnants of warmer days
denied the dignity of upright
plastic muck ups, a nostalgic weep of summer
wishing a solar Florida footing
their caught spirit of iced- playfulness
a pink flamboyance
teasing an icy surface
four plastic birds, frozen status
kitsch defensive
misplaced images like on-line love
wing swept longing
to flee this barren snowbank
nudging a tardy spring's erosion
with its courtship fringes
Poem posted April 13, 2023
As Jack Was Walking in The Snow
Jack saw wife's nightgown on the home snowbank
At first, his heart leaped frogged, and teeth croaked clank
Why his little bare bo-peep
Pulling his buff wool so deep
Soon joy rose and love snowballed at her prank
connie pachecho
2/20/18
The road was like a flood
Just like what was in her head
I thought as I stared at the blood
And my friend was close to dead
That tragic and fateful night
When her car was in a wreck
And I had a long fight
From that shrapnel in my neck
She was the killer of her own life
This beautiful and brilliant woman
A scholar, sister, friend, mom,and wife
Taken away from her life's plan
What drove her to be no more?
It was the lovely red wine
That just an hour before
Tasty salty and divine
As we danced at the party
And laughed the night away
The drink made me not see
That she was starting to sway
So when asked if I needed a ride
I gladly accepted her offer
And as we started to slip and slide
In the winter snow that became a blur
I still didn't think that I was in danger
Luckily I wore my seat belt in her car
But I didn't realize that for her
Common sense was just too far
So as we impacted on the snowbank
I heard her and myself scream
And when I awoke my heart sank
For I was hoping it was all just a dream
What I saw before me I can never forget
As I watched my friend in the red snow
And knew forever I would regret
Being too drunk to know
Large
Bobcat
peaked above
the tall snowbank
Then, it slowly walked
sat in the street
looked around,
as it
left
Heidi Sands
12/30/21
November descends delicately,
crisp, crimson-gold
landing languidly midway between
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day'
and 'Now is the winter of our discontent' -
dead center between its nurturing tree
and the leaf pile bound for burning
Casually clad in T-shirt and shorts
on my makeshift cardboard sled
middle age's gravity conveys me irreversibly
down summer's green, grassy slope
towards the snow-shrouded vale -
I find myself halfway between
where I did not want to leave
and where I do not wish to visit
Midway between the eulogy
and the forlorn trumpet playing 'Taps'
it dawns on me that life is not entirely about the
sunshine on our backs nor the coming snowbank
but about searching for the sunrise
on the far side of
the next hill
1 November 2022
"Angels danced the day you were born and
they wept when they welcomed you home."
Quote by - LuLoo
My mother often told me that the day my sister Suzanne was born that she
became a blessed child for the angels danced. All the Seraphim, Cherubim and
even the Archangels, and all the other Heavenly angels. They sang and danced
for this earthly angel sent to bring joy. Suzanne grew to be a delightful girl,
full of happiness, it sparkled in her eyes, she was beloved by all, she touched
people's heart, and oh, how she was loved. But, so many times her courageous
spirit brought her in harms way. I was too young but heard the stories told
of how she fell in a fast moving rapid river and almost drowned and fell down
a very steep stairway and almost died. Almost, until the day she was playing
on a snowbank and slipped into the street and died. Azrael, the Angel of Death
came to take her and he was weeping. He carried her to Heaven. At the golden
gate, all the angels waited, although they wept, they also celebrated the return
of this angel child and I imagine her dancing up there in Heaaven with a twinkle
in her eye with all the angels. Finally, back to where she belongs . . .
a blessed sweet child sent
from above not meant to be . . .
angels dance and weep
_________________________
August 21, 2019
Poetry/Haibun with Senryu/'Angels Danced'
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1174-799-21
All Rights Reserved, 2019, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, 'Angels Danced'
sponsor, Lu Loo, Judged 09/2019
Second Place
Another snowy day in paradise.
We're just not used to this stuff.
The guy trying to dig his car out by hand,
well, he doesn't look so tough.
There's a shovel by the door for all to use
but genius-boy is using his bare hands
and trying to back out of his parking spot
no matter where the poor car lands.
His buddy is helping to push the car.
They make it out onto the street,
And now he's floored it and back he goes
into a tougher snowbank, his defeat.
So off he walks, muttering under his breath.
I think he's given up for today.
But my amusement is not over.
There's another idiot driver on the way.
This one and his tiny white car
have tried to park in the ditch.
Now with all the snow, he didn't know
but I can still hear him b*tch.
A guy with a shovel across the street,
( at least someone is prepared)
has wandered over to help him out.
Just when he thought nobody cared.
It's all amusing from this side of the pane.
We west-coasters just don't have a clue
how to deal with a foot of snow
like the rest of the Canadians do.
Rain has started and melting too,
so eventually we'll all get out.
But its been an amusing morning
watching these islanders try to get about.
18/01/2020
There once was an elf named Joe
He loved to drink in the snow
He went for a ride
On Christmas, to hide
Got stuck in a snowbank below
12/26/18
*Entry For Let’s Have Fun Poetry Contest. Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Charming in his capotain, and
Christmas-red cape, alongside
His plain-costumed puritan wife.
Maritime tall masts,
Snow-capped spruce,
Blushing-white clouds.
Sailors offload merry assortment —
fancying their Claus-like chores.
Old New York spectates by the shore —
The “blue eye” of the Santa-sea,
Brings old-fashioned fillers
For pudding-plum stockings.
Hard-packed snowbank under their coal-black boots.
Twinkling behind devoted eyes —
Treasure trove of memories to offload to their progeny.
11/25/2019
Based on N.C. Wyeth painting “The Christmas Ship in Old New York”