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Best Winter Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Winter poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of winter poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Winter Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Winter poems are below this new poems list.

WINTER ROMANCE by Arowolo, olusegun
SQUIRRELS GO ROUND ROUND THE TREE THEY GO BEFORE WINTER by Lee Sr., James Edward
BEFORE WINTER BIRDS AND ANIMALS HEAD SOUTH by Lee Sr., James Edward
WINTER PLANS by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
around the bend is winter by Ricci, Lisa
WINTER FUN by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Winter Bitters by Coyne, William
WINTER SUNSHINE by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Winter haiku 1-2-3 or 3-2-1 by Roper, Eve
Summer or Winter by Connor, Brandon

View all new Winter Poems

The Best Winter Poems

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The Daughter Of The North Wind Sings In Soprano


In riming realms of crystal contemplations frozen water vapor meditations and chilled flutes filled with zodiacal light musings of ancient cosmic dust dancing in the arms of Sol.. windswept operatic reveries rise and fall as her stirring soprano tickled by chantings of icicled chimes gathers momentum in strengthening sprays of frosted musical notes drifting in broken chords... she bestrides a clouded steed colored mother-of-pearl flowing with fury within which beats a blustery heart surging at jet stream speeds she hearkens to hailstorm hooves from the streamered skies of the merry dancers they fly aloft on arctic gales of lyrical laughter igniting the imagination of her freezing fire burning now with a blistering whip and a nipping frostbite that sinks its tingling teeth deep sailing a supernatural stage amplifying - her aerated soprano soars in polar vortex arias as avalanching glazed trinkets; decendants of her fertile femininity skydive in shivering sixfold symmetry falling in fierce flights of fancy as she cyclones on consecrated currents with wild abandon escalating in twirling trills of glass beaded squalls swirling her iced eiderdown skirts aflare baring tempest thighs storming with a Siberian sting ~ and as her electric eyes sparkle with luminous lightning she buries you in a blizzard of opal mistletoe berries and wanton whims. Susan Ashley February 20, 2018 ------------------------------ ~ First Place ~ Contest: Your best free verse 2018 Sponsor: John Hamilton


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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Like Ice --- THE WALTZ

"Black Ice"

Sorrow flows from the first sunrise 
Eyes deeper than winter and rainfall
A painful combination never felt before 
At core death awaits
   - laughing while she begs for clemency!
In her eyes, fault is found in every sunset
   - after coming down from cloud nine.
Impossible to move --- her body stiffen
That very moment, A precious Waltz - Expired!
Coldplay and winter mist set in 
Ruins of love clinch an endless echo 
  - taunting the very merry memory.
The auditory sensation of broken trust 
   - stride across the way.
Icing every thought in a sullen, cold rink. 
She fell - She crumbled 
  - In a world where hope once existed 

Today, she will sway alone without a lullaby
In a room with no warmth 
One time a sweet symphony, now a sour moon 
 At last, a different tune begins to fiddle
As she grooms the icicles in her room.
On every mid-moon, she stares and stares
  towards the old shriveled lipstick on his pillow 
Unseen coldness, unsatisfied, incomplete tears
She can feel the complete braille of hate 
--- cascade around the emptiness

Throughout her poise frostbite travels in
Midnight Summer dreams are near an end
Autumn bones covered by winter sleet 
A deadly force condemns all because of one 

Lost years crumbled like an avalanche 
Way deep down inside....... 
She paints the rain like no other heartache
Leaving winter residue behind every step
"Black Ice" sits close to the cold canvas on her pale

If you seek closely, she is there 
Immobilized in a waltz, in a waltz, in a waltz

Never to linger or trust 
The "HE" that spoke of love, then melted away

~*~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016


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A Winter Rose - A Sonnet

I walk through the glistening virgin snow
That covers the sorrow of autumn’s death 
Where I find on a bush a frozen rose  
Its beauty held ageless in winter’s breath 

How I long to touch those petals again 
Those moist velvet lips that promise such bliss 
Opened in passion whispering my name 
As I drift in dreams of a breathless kiss 

Oh! To pluck this rose from the winter snow 
And hold it closely to my aching heart
And free it from that ice so bitter cold 
That now my love keeps you and me apart

But if I were to pluck this winter rose 
Would all its petals fall upon the snow? 

                 ~~~~~






Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2010


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The Forest

"What happens in the forest stays in the forest"

The trees are trimmed, 
The leaves on the ground 
Proposing passion, sweet mist
Naked with nothing to bare or wear
Nature's breath lightens the atmosphere
She breathes in, he breathes out
The auditory sensation of rain 
   - drums down and deepens
The course is near its end, 
Deep in this forest night
A Gentleman among the trees, 
Hibernating new seeds 

"On the other side of the forest"
He guides a path, with ebony eyes
A convincing vent, I accept
The fear is broken, I sleep in glee
The whispers disappear 
Drying in peace by the secret bayou 
Broad leaves lay under raw landscape
Lulled by the chills he quills
A quarter past midnight 
Mr Romantic
   - prepares the new sheets of Winter. 

11-11-15
~*~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015


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The Stone

The Tale below was carved one night,
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



.                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone 
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were bright, her face was pale
.........her eyes were bright, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



.                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream
One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...a Ship was stripped where winter stormed
.........a Ship was stripped where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the sea entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the sea entombed

Your James... denied by Davy Jones!
His spirit gone, his flesh and bones
...are resting now amongst the Stones
.........are resting now amongst the Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades and dreams in darkness groan 
.........where shades and dreams in darkness groan 

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew –
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou   
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold –
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
There sang a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint and feeling frail
.........which left me faint and feeling frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“I miss you too, my darling Beth”
Re-echoed from the Ship of Death
...the future buried in a breath
.........the future buried in a breath
	
The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, the wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death lay moored
...beneath, the icy ocean roared
.........beneath, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



.                         Epilogue

That night the wayward winds were weird 
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



.                         Epitaph

Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps



inspired by ~fc~

DEFINITIONS
Wight (obsolete): a supernatural being, creature
Bight: a bay or gulf
Swale: a moist depression in a tract of land


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013


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Winter Blues - I Cry For Color



I shiver tears. My joie de vivre; summer esprit’s lemon zested lilac flirts and coral whispers have escaped me~ grievous gray now flows through my veins. I shiver melancholia, entombed with my winter blues in the dark dreamless hollow of my frowning igloo. Draped in decor of dispirited drear I wear a wistful woebegone fog, an overcoat of overcast moods sown of sneering sunless, scentless days. I weep wall to wall in the long light-less nights alone with my lonely longings~ my psyche withers a little more each dull day, I shrivel. I shiver sadness, my colorless tears cry out loud for color; yearning for watermelon sunsets, pink sands and swirls of marigold kisses, for rainbows to color my lackluster laughter and fireworks to celebrate in my mirthless eyes, for Sol’s warm hands to tenderly undress and caress me and lay bare my soul straitjacketed by winter blues... Susan Ashley January 4, 2018 ------------------------------ ~ Second Place ~ Contest: Free Verse: Winter Blues Sponsor: Laura Loo


Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018


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SCINTILLATING SNOWFLAKES

Wintry white wisps wondrously whirl Soft sparkling snowflakes silently swirl Coolly carpeting countrysides carefully Dazzling diamonds dancing delightfully Submitted Contest forms A contest Sponsored by Broken Wings 28th December 2014


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014


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Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails

Soul Searching Trek Along Winter's Snow Painted Trails 

Waking to cold blown tent, ground frozen icy hard
woods are my love, as is poetry to a bard.
Today starts my anticipated forest trek,
seeking salvation from heart's emotional wreck,
last night I watched stars twinkle in heavenly skies
pondering how to overcome world's darkest lies.

Now dawn breaks, sends fresher pair of gem seeking eyes
desirous to find what Time, Fate and Earth denies,
finding cold breeze that blows snowflakes from white cream ground,
thankful for Nature's sanctuary here now found.
First step taken, this soul takes its desperate flight,
embrace anew, treasures that make life feel alright.

Through drifted powdered paths my healing does begin
rhythm of my brisk breath is like a cleansing hymn.
Serenity in solitude is what I seek,
in contemplative meditations I do speak
amongst the frosted firs a chapel for my prayers
in your Trust surrendering all worries and tears.

To slow life’s commotion and hush harsh emotion,
quiet communion in woodland is my potion -
sweetest swells of ecstasy makes my spirit swoon
in whitest snowdrop bloom my heart will follow soon.
With every snowy step I purify a thought
in this pristine Love I find absolution sought.

The winding trail I followed with a downcast face
and left behind the sorrow of my past disgrace.
Ascending farther to the snowy mountains peak
animated to discover my fate unique.
I shall not let my courage waver, not this time,
with weary steps I continue my forward climb.

The final steps to reach my summits divine light,
my mind virtuous as snowflakes of purest white,
I inhale the essence of life at nature’s hem,
finally free from chains of torment I condemn.
With Fate and Time to blend with Earth, I shall redeem
my dignity and recover my self-esteem.


Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren
(a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul)
July 26, 2018
My poet's notes: It was a sincere pleasure and joy to be a part of this wonderful collaboration with two of the finest poets on the Soup, Susan Ashley and Robert Lindley. My special thanks go to Robert for inviting me to join this three-way collaboration of a soul-searching poem combining three aspects which I love about nature: winter, snow and the woods. Thank you, Susan and Robert, for your friendship and the inspiration you give me through your beautifully created, deep and emotional poetry.


Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2018


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WINTER

thick blanket of snow snuggling the flowerbeds with a winter wrap Jan Allison 6th October 2014


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014


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A Concrete Snowman

                                                    THE BLACK
                                                    SATIN HAT
                                                    SAT TIGHT
                                        ON THE YOUNG MANS BALD
                                                    HEAD. HIS 
                                                EYES BLACK AS 
                                            NIGHT STARED INTO
                                              NOTHINGNESS. IN 
                                                 FRONT OF HIM
                                                      WERE 3
                                              PATHS WHERE THE
                                           CHILDREN HAD ROLLED 
                     THREE BALLS OF SNOW MUCH EALIER THAT VERY DAY. 
                                         PATCHES OF GREEN GRASS 
                                          STUCK THROUGH PACKED
                                                FREEZING SNOW.
                                        IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS FACE
                                A CROOKED CARROT POINTED TOWARD 
                            THE HOUSE WHERE CHILDREN SAT LOOKING
                             OUT THEIR WINDOW AT THEIR NEW FOUND
                              FRIEND. HIS BUTTON MOUTH SHAPED FOR
                                HIM TO LOOK HAPPY SEEMED TO SMILE 
                                  AT THEM AS THEY STARTED TO BLOW
                                       KISSES AT THEIR WONDERFUL 
                                                  NEW SNOWMAN.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.27.2014


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


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The Invitation

December 25th-  The Christmas Wedding

Head-to-head,
Surrounded by seasonal silver bells
Scarlet passionate pink poinsettias sit
Foliage scenery 
Entwined by Christmas and Wedding bliss
Frosty winter weather warmed up by:
Rings of “I Do!”

The eyes of Eve hide underneath a white veil
Beautiful-
A bride walking down the misty mistletoe isle
Wondering why the majestic mustang moon sank without trace?

The aroma of pine trees idle into the death-defying fog
Fine firm decorated ribbons snug unopened gifts
Desperately-
Mistletoes wait above the tenable tint threshold
Kissing and Cheering
New Christmas Vows
In her hands, a beautiful bouquet 
-Bridal flowers for the maids
Forsaken by dark dusky dullness wedding cloud
Flustering fragrance thicken the chestnut cold air
Ornaments endured dreary tears

Despising the drapes of fog
That covers the newly wed winter show
Harmony withdrew from that winter wonderland
A white gown, not meant to be
Christmas crushed by her greed
The unkind erratic earth exchanged her own silent vows
In a horrifying hoary haze
A heavy foggy breeze dropped in like debris,
Blowing her tiara dreams away
On this very exact Christmas Day

:-)
11-22-13


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


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Winter


With his icy fingers he stole my smokey breath,
laid a sheet of slippery freezing cold by my feet
and then whispered in my ear right to the drum
that echoed in my brain with excruciating pain.

She, his wife was of a complete different temperament
quietly without fuss she crafted blanched cotton flakes,
each a masterpiece, unique as if she retained every design 
she had ever imagined so each time she could create anew.

He however with his bravado with his swelled chest
would pepper speeding glass-like pellets into the air.
Sting our faces without regret. Salt our wounds.
Mercilessly bite into our flesh with his frosted fangs.

Daintily she'd sprinkle the sky with the magic of her cheer
feather the atmosphere in a delicate splatter of alabaster.
Layer by layer she laid soft sheets of snow to the delight
of everyone alike creating a playground of endless mirth.

His breath reeked of dreams frozen, nipped in the bud.
Already he had high jacked his sisters, the Autumn twins
sent them packing, hurried, gathering their rustic garments.
He had no love of his siblings except his baby sister, Spring.

His wife loving and caring would temper his yearly onslaught.
She knew of his pain, deep, abandoned by his father Summer.
At times she'd blow slightly warmer air to provide respite for
us mere humans and allow the sun to warm our weary bones.

They  would sit together and it was her would bring out
the albums of family photos view pictures of his mother.
Her smile like music would soothe his stone cold heart.
He loved, when she'd visit in the guise of an Indian Summer.

With his icy fingers he stole my smokey breath.
I felt her presence there to temper his harsh avail.

Winter had arrived but when they walked as one 
this magnificent couple dressed in their royal winter whites,
without a second thought you  would bow in front of their regal 
stance, a sight to behold, one that encompassed the entire land.


04~01~2015
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Seasons





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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The Other Side of Winter

(A Villanelle)

The winter’s dismal path is long and gray,
a never-ending march of cheerless dark
with skies whose colors bleach in dull array

where forest scene gives one a true display
and leafless limbs provide a raptors' park.
The winter’s dismal path is long and gray,

and through the open grove a new ballet
of life and death beneath the brittle bark
and skies whose colors bleach in dull array.

A wind unites with rain while leaves decay;
each limb begins to dance a graceful arc
in winter’s dismal path so long and gray

till snow appears and hides the hunter's prey.
New scenes occur of softer landscape mark,
tame skies whose colors bleach in dull array.

Resplendent white now blankets to allay
our thirst for beauty with a lustrous lark.
The winter's dismal path is long and gray,
with skies whose colors bleach in dull array.






Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014


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Snow Falling


Snow falling—
Falling.
Feathers escaping from the pillow-heaven
Confusing the air
With the steadiness of a stampede
Advancing, clinging, smothering.

Snow falling—
Settling.
White fleecy lambs atop every protrusion
Sleek ermine boas
Draped upon the naked arms of nature
Bare of their green velvet capes.

Snow falling—
Drifting.
The spatula of wind
Smoothing mounds of marshmallow frosting
Billowy swirls
Of whipped immaculate splendor.

Snow falling—
Burying.
Obscuring the drab tired earth
Her deep wounds of time
Dissolving shadows of other seasons
That Spring may arise again.


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Number 15
Sponsor: Skat A
Judged: 01/29/2018

~2nd Place~
Contest: Seasons
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: 01/05/2015


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015


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Snowflakes

Sunlight glistens off crystal snowflakes
As they float and flutter through the sky
Like butterflies in their freedom of flight,
Never knowing where they might alight.
They leave us awestruck as they join
Together turning the landscape white.

Closer view reveals no two are alike.
In this way, we as tender human beings 
Have much in common with snowflakes.
We treasure our freedom, we are each unique,
And there is much beauty as we unite as an
All encompassing gift to each other 
Bonded by the strength of coming together.

Winter is a time of rest and rejuvenation,
A time to prepare for rebirth in the coming spring
As the first bulbs push their way through the 
Snow covered ground, slowly rising up in 
A blaze of glorious colors, exalting spring hope.

© Connie Marcum Wong

Poem of the Day February 25, 2017

Thank you Poetry Soup Team!




Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017


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A LIGHT OF LIFE SHONE BRIGHT

A LIGHT OF LIGHT SHONE BRIGHT

As frigid mood enwraps the northern land,
with snowfalls creating a quilt of white,
the times are dark as winter‘s frozen hand
enfolds the forest in the dead of night.
The treetops quiver in the howling winds
with snowflakes resting on the branches bowed,
The northern borders crispy air rescinds
to cease its hold as winters rigor slowed.
In early dawn the frozen winds subside
as morn awakes to heed the light of day.
In mother’s warm caress an infant cried,
a gift of childhood borne by natures way.
A child of joy with beauty to adorn,
a light of life shone bright, as I was born.

T.J Grén
8th August, 2018


Winter 1956

The lakes were frozen with a thick layer of ice. The pure, white snow covered the fields, lakes and the forests. The snow fell on the coniferous trees of the dense woods forming a white blanket over the branches. The northern air was crispy and cold. The wintery night was pitch-black in contrast to the white snow. The night was dark as were times, still shadowing the darkness of war over a decade after-wards.

The winter in Finland can be bitter and cold. In the heart of mid-winter, January and beginning of Feb-ruary, the temperature can fall well below minus 30 degrees Celsius even in southern parts of Finland. Combined with the short days of light and long nights of darkness, the winter can be considered as quite bleak. The winter of 1956 was no different. Cold days with temperature plummeting well below minus 20 degrees were experienced on numerous occasions during the first two months of the year. Even as far south as Helsinki, the capital city of Finland, the temperature had fallen to minus 34 degrees Celsius in February. Combined with an abundance of snowfalls and blizzards the conditions were wintery to say the least. Coming towards the end of February the hours of sunlight were getting longer and the days were not as severe as they had been in the preceding months.

Apart from the wintery conditions another aspect which made life difficult for Finns during the winter of 1956 was a conflict between the workforce and corporations that eventually led to a general strike which stopped the nation for three weeks from the first day of March. As Finland had lost the war against Soviet Union during World War II, life had been tough for Finns as they were building the na-tion back up again. The general strike was a culmination of harsh times as workers wanted better condi-tions for themselves. The prize for the toil of the people had been freedom, but now the time was to ask for a more widesprad reward.

Being a race of determination and conscientiousness Finland was the only nation to pay their war debts of World War II in full: and furthermore, the final payment was made in good time prior to it becoming due. The last shipment of goods as war debt crossed the border to Soviet Union on September 18th 1952. The war debt to Soviet Union was considerable as at its worst in the late nineteen-forties it amounted to fifteen percent of Finland’s capital expenditure. Now that the country was getting on its feet again the people who had fought hard for the country and its independence and had weathered the harsh times of the post war period, demanded better conditions. The country and its people had survived the severe conditions showing great tenacity. The Finnish word “sisu” has become a widely used word for this quality of persistence. No English equivalence is found for the word, but it combines the quali-ties of perseverance at all costs, true grit and determination never to give up.

During the midst of this post-war conflict, at 4.32 a.m on Friday 24th February at Keltakangas hospital ten kilometers west of Sippola, a small country municipality of a few thousand inhabitants in south-eastern Finland, something more positive happened. A baby boy of 50 centimeters in length and weigh-ing 3620 grams saw the light of day. I was born.



Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2018


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I Saw a Sundrop: Constanza

I saw a sundrop in a field,
a daffodil to be exact,
stand brave upon the snow-filled tract.

In blighting cold it would not yield;
long since its fellows disappeared
to that one spot it still adhered,

though flurries did the winter wield.
The autumn did its namesakes in
before the hoarfrost could begin

and slicing gusts now unconcealed,
with falling rain becoming snow.
The way of death it would not go

as though behind a covert shield
that kept its sunlit attitude
when sleet unto the land ensued.

I saw a sundrop in the field,
in blighting cold it would not yield,
though flurries did the winter wield
and slicing gusts now unconcealed,
as though behind a covert shield.

11/15/17


Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017


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SNOW - ANGEL

tiny snow angel snowflakes kiss your rosy cheeks white winter beauty Any poem you ever wrote not for a contest Sponsored by Broken Wings 14th November 2014 Published in Haiku Journal #33 by Prolific Press


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014


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STILL WINTER

Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 



Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012


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Winter's Garden

High shadows loom on garden walls.
They tremble in the winter’s breeze.
As from the heavens powder falls,
they mimic naked limbs of trees.

They tremble in the winter’s breeze;
forlorn, they sway as low winds moan.
They mimic naked limbs of trees.
Frail shadows now have thicker grown.

Forlorn, they sway as low winds moan.
The winds surcease, no more to blow.
Frail shadows now have thicker grown.
On arms of trees are coats of snow!

The winds surcease, no more to blow.
As from the heavens powder falls,
on arms of trees are coats of snow.
High shadows loom on garden walls.


3/16/15 




Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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Wonders of Winter

Look up!  Snowflakes appear in streetlights
   Hear children cheer as snow days are announced
Watch the powder fly during snowball fights
   Listen as faith through joyful hymns is pronounced
   Join snow angel brigades while on wintery landscapes we pounce

Walk briskly with me through the winter woods
   Where boughs of evergreens droop with white frost
Don your boots and pull up your jacket hood
   Let’s slide on the lake until our energies exhaust
   Then trudge back home as snow drifts are crossed

Place damp clothes on a chair by the fireside
   Pour a glass of wine and snuggle with me
Whispers of passion, ‘neath a blanket confide
   Lights from the fir tree fill our hearts with glee
   As you offer me your ring on bended knee


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010


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I AM WINTER

       I Am Winter

I am cold – not heartless,
nor do I wish any harm.
This is just the way it is,
my gaze - a shivering chill,
my kiss - a frosty sting,
my breath - a numbing touch.

I come alone – uninvited
unwelcome, unappreciated
to lull to sleep the cycles
that need rejuvenation.

I am angry – for you fear me -
shut your doors, lock your windows,
deny me but your harshest looks
wrap yourselves in layers
lest we touch.

I am saddened – thus I whine
dancing around your houses
bending low the cowering trees
weeping sub zero tears
that never fall.

I am Winter –
and when my time is done
you will rejoice that I have gone
never thanking me –
for the beauty that awaits.


John G. Lawless
12/17/2014

Submitted to PD’s – Winter Poems #1 – Poetry Contest


Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014


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A WINTER'S TALE

Biting winds and swirling flakes of snow had finally abated We surveyed the deep drifts, which lay on the fields The silvery moon peeped through the clouds and lit our way It was bitterly cold, but the pitiful sound of bleating spurred us on Some friends and neighbours had joined us – we had no time to lose! Grabbing our spades we worked tirelessly throughout the night Digging out the sheep and tiny lambs one by one Their fleeces were matted with tiny icicles As dawn broke we had rescued all but one of our precious flock Suddenly our trusty sheepdog Shep started barking We trudged to where he was frantically pawing at the snow Our hearts lifted as we pulled the final sheep out alive At last it was time for us to return to the farmhouse In the distance I could see gold and silver lights sparkling and scintillating on the Douglas fir tree in church in the village. I raised my eyes to heaven and gave thanks. A Winter Poem Sponsor Shadow Hamilton Required words silver, gold, sparkling, flakes, icicles, drifts and spades 12~02~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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Java and Me

A sonnet I will write with you today
Inspired by the beauty that I see
Beyond this pane of glass where snowflakes play
Beyond this pane where raindrops used to be

The creek behind the house has turned to white
How silently she rests upon this morn
Her muddy depths completely out of sight
Beneath a face where ice begins to form

The trees once leafy raise their barren limbs
Where now those scarlet feathers can be seen 
A Cardinal in flight upon a whim
Upon a winter morning so serene

Beyond this window pane from which I gaze
And stare in wonder...at this world... amazed

...

A  blue jay breaks the silence with his trill
That sends those scarlet feathers to the air
Across the creek they fly to yonder hill
Where combines of the windmills creak...beware

The sun begins to rise up from the east
Exposing all the diamonds in the snow
Abreast the oak and maple leaves deceased
The frosty face of winter all aglow

With gratifying java on my lips
With a  big coffee cup held in  my hand 
I tap my table top with fingertips
While humming Crosby's Winter Wonder Land

Beyond this window pane from which I gaze
I stare in wonder ...at this world...amazed


Written:  Dec. 10Th, 2016


Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016


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Frozen-A collaboration with Shane Cooper


The frozen sap of mirthless trees,
The fractured flow of icy streams.

The howling wind that claws at life, 
The forest shrouded in endless white.

Skeletal ice hangs from warm lit homes,
....brittle fingers, glacial bones!

Gibbous moon with light unclean, 
Casting shadows barely seen.

Wide tongues of sleet lick hands and feet, 
Frost etched people on lacquered streets.

Witches Sabbat the darkest rite,
All doors are barred on Halloween night!

Children sleeping, tucked tight in bed,
While witches brooms fly overhead.

****’s crow sounds in the dark of night,
Putting the cabal to frenzied flight!

The children waken then start to yawn,
Their smiling faces greet the new dawn.


Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2016