these were adorable snow boots but they leaked
my socks are wet now and I think I’m getting frostbite
It is at least a hundred yards back to the house
why did I have to buy beauty instead of sturdy?
each step in this deep snow is miserable
My teeth are chattering now
Why does anyone live in Minnesota in January?
I cannot wait to get inside
I made it alive, my icy cold socks are plastered to my toes
I have difficulty pulling them off
I put two socks on each of my feet
Put on my cozy pajamas and start a fire in the fire place
Out the window I can see the snow
It is gloriously pretty from inside.
Twinkles and glistens, sparkles with bluing.
Maybe everyone should live in Minnesota.
what is left of me,
once you have taken all that I am?
what words are left for me to wallow in
after you say goodbye?
in who's arm do I find comfort,
now that mine have been shackled?
how do I say I love you
when I can't bring myself to love again,
or have I ever?
how can I buy your forgiveness,
when there is so much, I cannot afford forget?
To whom do these memories belong to now
if I'm not the person I once claimed to be?
if only Your smile could mend my broken heart.
I would be a fool to heal myself with those who pass me by.
So, I walk backwards now looking for you again.
Trying to find who I was before you left.
Graceful
classy stanzas,
a theme with good posture.
She’s a fresh Capricorn poet.
Walking
with a metaphor on her head,
stubborn refrains echo.
Building ageless
designs.
You keep checking the date,
Like the days can pass in hours.
And you know you'll be bitter if you miss it.
Just keep checking the time you fool.
But the days can pass in hours,
And you keep counting the months,
Because you know that delusion is better than honesty.
You know that the days pass in hours, you fool.
pale blue
Polar vortex/
pre-dawn light, puce, gold glow/
no match, She trades Her mere myth for
the Depth
My long-lost winter is here
Even if it has not snowed,
For by and by, woodsmoke is near
Drifting slow across the road
A most distinctive scent
It carries to the nose,
Up, up a chimney vent
Where a fireplace glows
Quite pleasant, yet strong
This scent I do remember,
Though it lasts not long
From many a dying ember
The season's sure sign
Where a chill has set in,
Warms their heart and mine
So let another winter begin
Woodsmoke in the wind
Just here and gone that day,
Passed the weathervane spinned
Up north near my way.
8x8x8x8 Poetry Contest
Charles Messina
So here we are in the new year
Throw confetti wishes and cheer
January opened its doors nicely
Merry old me entered modestly
Shook the monkey off my back
Took his banana in place of a snack
How losing a few pounds inspires
Now I can climb the tree of desires
January 27, 1973
I was sitting in the barracks
yelling and screaming echoed through the halls
sirens blaring, horns blowing, fireworks popping;
the war was over
Sweetness is a Jasmine January
Seeds its scent along the inkberry
Starflowers streaming a fecund path
I bask in a heavenly perfumed bath
Winter bouquets an Elysian Field sanctuary
Jasmine scents ladies of the night
Jazzman ticklin’ ivory ‘neath a sultry light
With a surging merge all kept warm
During the raunchy ruckus and snowstorm
New Orleans brothels wintery delights
Thursday, 2025.1.16
Happy birthday to my sister.
She turns a mile stone at the new corner.
Now she earns the title of being a senior.
Congratulations to you, my sister.
Congratulations to me too.
Today, I was introduced the Poetry's world.
I started to post my poems,
Few days later, my first piece of work,
Was listed in "This Week's Featured poems".
It was read by many viewers.
I was overwhelmed and flattered.
Initially, the poems were written,
To serve as my diary keeper.
Eventually, the writing got easy and easier.
I was glad, I met this poet,
Who I named "Mr Author",
He introduced me to the poetry's world,
Hopefully, I can continue on writing,
Post them all on the internet.
Thank you "Mr Author"
Thank you all the viewers.
It was all my pleasure.
Found the abandoned misused tomb
Metallic and ancient it slept
Airstream trailer, silver bullet
I wandered the forest and wept
Found a rusted knife in the ash
Metallic and ancient it slept
A kitchen tool, left in the rain
It was just begging to be kept
Found a can of neon spray paint
Metallic and ancient it slept
I helped my siblings paint our barn
And at time’s end, away we crept
Tick-tick.
We gathered, huddled tight,
Eyes to the screen, hearts alight.
There she was, her smile aglow,
"My teacher," I whispered, "is ready to go."
Tick-tick.
The engines ignite,
A pillar of fire, a streak of white.
Cheers erupt, "Go Challenger, go!"
Her voice still rings: "I'll teach you, I know."
Whoosh. Whoosh.
The rocket climbs,
Thirty seconds, sixty times.
She’s up there now, soaring high,
A teacher who reached to touch the sky.
Crack-pop.
A gasp, a flare.
The fire splits the frosty air.
"What's happening?" I dared to say,
But silence stole the words away.
Boom.
The cloud twists wide,
A shape of loss, a nation cried.
Seventy-three seconds, all undone,
The lesson ended, never begun.
Tick-tick.
The years go by,
I still look upward, asking why.
She promised dreams, she taught us hope,
Her voice helps countless students cope.
My teacher went boom,
But she didn’t fall.
Her courage echoes,
In us all.
She bestowed a belgard from across the diner.
It was rich and warm, like the bowl of buttery grits that steamed the hairs in my nostrils.
Then suddenly an invisible magnet slowly pulled my hungry eyes from my breakfast toward her pretty brown eyes that gently spoke to me.
Albeit short, the moment was sweet and endearing.
For maybe 5 seconds, our eyes met, and then they danced a symphonic dance.
It was such a sweet suite that felt like heaven.
Then the cashier handed her her receipt and change.
And suddenly, I was no longer in a catatonic state.
My attention returned to the breakfast that awaited me as she gracefully exited the diner.
In passing, she smiled and coyly waved as she vanished into the cold January day.
As supposedly told by Michael Fanone, Capital Police Officer
A bit of snow melted on the ground
as the crowd gathered loudly around
Their leader liked the boisterous noise
especially intrigued by Proud Boys.
An ordinary, cold-weather day
with flags and banners in proud display
Their leader said, "fight" and so they fought
a sadder day, I'd have never sought.
Jan.6 promoted as Best Rally
and will ever be one to tally
the Police wounded and those who died
as the leader's warriors stormed inside.
I fought today in stunned disbelief
I was filled with the worst kind of grief
for it was our countrymen we fought
against iron rods and sprays they had brought
The floor was slick with everyman's blood
the very floor where Abe Lincoln stood
the law-makers ran as the walls shook
No word came, as leader chose to look.
They searched and searched for VP Mike Pence
to hang for he obeyed law and sense
But the next time may ring the war's bell
and Democracy die--time will tell.
If I live a thousand or more years
time won't dry the hundreds of my tears
I've shed since our country's fateful day
hate and anger ensure that they stay.
2025.1.4
Happy New Year, my dear.
How were your holidays,
While your second home was closed.
Just wonder how you would feel if you find out,
I have been confiding my feelings for you to strangers.
Our days at your second home and my quarter.
The time we enjoyed each other company,
Shared our favorites and past life stories.
Our shopping, preparing, cooking and consuming food,
Which were simple delicious and nutritious.
I could not help sharing with people about my feelings,
Just like you can't help ending our relationship.
I have decided to let the friendship flame on,
Not because I wanted to use it to melt your heart,
Simply to keep me company while writing the feelings on my part.
Now, everything has fallen apart,
To such an extend you must choose different paths,
To avoid walking pass my place.
Travel between your home and second home.
Really, was that really necessary?
Grow up and behave maturely.
Specific Types of January Poems
Definition | What is January in Poetry?