Long Cold front Poems
Long Cold front Poems. Below are the most popular long Cold front by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cold front poems by poem length and keyword.
July 25th, 1996 tied the Gordian knot,...
(I spent noose cents)
begot deux daughters, the major events
both since flew cuckoo's nest,
the eldest angry at papa for offense
sieve behavior fatherly bond
forever sundered permanent rents
unforgiving progeny vents
bile, explosive vitriol whence...
Aye yen for bachelorhood every
now and again doth mildly abate
after saying "I do...,"
when axed by justice of peace
nearly two dozen years wedded
bull hissing, rest assured
I will abbreviate
encapsulate, fulminate, narrate...
and forthrightly admit,
yours truly oft times
yearned to abdicate
spousal unbridled warfare and injustice
reason enough to abnegate
null and void husbandry role
ex post facto finding thyself
questioning pledging troth even
Frosty the snowman would abominate
to say "screw this -
marriage nut for me"
bolt in a huff boot (dang)
ne'er did absquatulate
altercations that adhere
to rule of physics
and tended to accelerate
as muzzled, neigh saying saddled
former groom did
lament and accentuate
his physical needs,
she did not accommodate,
cuz this solitary soul
(with good n plenti horse sense),
never did fully acculturate
with female species,
one whose blunt cold front
seemed to accumulate growing
gripe list bestowed courtesy this mate
tit for tat wrathful pitiless,
(not so cherry) feedback unmatched
within annotated coupled courtship of fools,
this scrivener with steely
iron maiden breastplate,
nonetheless did rack up and accumulate
battle scars hitting bullseye,
since donned with
corrective vision spectacles
hen pecking, needling termagant
untameable shrew did acerate
(worse fate than death -
validated by grim reaper)
avowed covenant thru torturous years
exponentially punishing innocent soul
(slightly biased) did acervate
popping one after
another over the counter acetylsalicylate,
no ampule adequate
to relieve permanent suffering,
thus lifetime electric shock treatment,
nsync quaffing prescription
kool aid battery acidulate
ineffective to activate
palliative, and restore
liberty (yeah) sense and sensibility
subsequently providing freedom
against further wifely scourges
whereby Doctor Phil Ander
refused to adjudicate,
perhaps understandable why I advocate
selfless mercy killing (euthanasia)
for this urbane country bumpkin.
(Intro)
(Verse 1)
Used to be
We had a one-of-a-kind love
A passion flame that burned so hot
Night-after-night
Without puttin' up a fight
You'd give it to me on the spot
Now you're tellin' me
You need a change of pace
And I can't even get to second base
(Verse 2)
I can tell
I've got no hold on you anymore
There's another person in your eyes
Don't try to say
I'm just gettin' in the way
I've had enough of your goodbyes
I never ever knew
What you were all about
Is this your way of coolin' out?
(Chorus 1)
There's a chill comin' on
And it's in your heart girl
Throw that icy stare
Do what you can to tear me apart
There's a chill - chill comin' on
An arctic breeze
This love is growin' old
Now you look at me so cold I freeze
(Bridge)
Oh there's such a chill
This love is growin' old ...
(Solo)
Ooh now I've gotta find
Another weather zone
While you find yourself all alone
(Chorus 2)
There's a chill comin' on
There's a winter wind
Cold front, cold back
What's the chance you'll let me in?
There's a chill - chill comin' on
An early frost ...
What good is being cold girl
If loneliness is what it costs?
(A Capella Break)
(Chorus 1)
There's a chill comin' on
And it's in your heart girl
Throw that icy stare
Do what you can to tear me apart
There's a chill - chill comin' on
An arctic breeze
This love is growin' old
Now you look at me so cold I freeze
(Chorus 2)
There's a chill comin' on
There's a winter wind
Cold front, cold back
What's the chance you'll let me in?
There's a chill - chill comin' on
An early frost ...
What good is being cold girl
If loneliness is what it costs?
(Chorus 1)
There's a chill comin' on
And it's in your heart girl
Throw that icy stare
Do what you can to tear me apart
There's a chill - chill comin' on
An arctic breeze
This love is growin' old
Now you look at me so cold I freeze
(Outro)
I freeze ...
There's a chill - chill comin' on
There's a chill - chill comin' on
There's a chill - chill comin' on
(Repeat Ad Nauseum)
Copyright © 1985 Ganymede Music - BMI
Copyright © 2016 Tsahaylu Music (ASCAP)
Season of dream haze and arctic signpost.
Chill and chap brood whose scattered offspring plummet thermal values as welcome mat for “whiskered” chimney guest awash with bounty.
Thief of sun filled days without a twinge but that universal late December rendezvous can’t be thrust off-course.
Primal raw wind howl dissing summer’s distant memory - spotty and erratic though it was.
Deck chair, seat of toil free bliss now cold front recess blob.
Mirage or wishful thinking from a wet weather veteran.
We live in fear of reruns like Ophelia or
2010’s black ice.
Storm Force Brian, Mount Fuji on an airwave shrapnel carrier.
Dormant Loch Ness shadow’s fervent air mass plugging festive tunes.
To fuel dispatch and chimney sweep alike a sacred windfall.
For those who struggle just another inroad on an ever
shrinking pocket.
Yet this annual curtain closer has its grail and saving grace.
Dark art charmer lacing every patch for knee high boot crunch.
Architect of igloo closet ski cap.
Sleigh ride bell upon that maligned feast around our globe (Noel hark the alpine carol)!
Bizarre but only to us frostbite souls aloof from glacial beauty.
Deep freeze spirit canvass may not surface.
Christmas anthems booming over frolic footfall streets adorned by night owls.
Chaser lights that gee up gutted ghost town black spot.
Urban ice rink dome another fantasy or wonderland.
Toy shop stock n trade whose only trade is stock.
Colour coded gadget clutching every cell of window space.
Fashion fodder wizards magic spark a toddler’s glee at every turn.
Boisterous strains of Santa rousing inner reindeers - the sort beloved by children down the ages.
Yuletide decor gift band holly bush spike.
Log tossed on fire, kindling stick incendiary, leaping flame enshrouds smokeless polish.
Punch bowl nasal spice so aptly named rum do!
Skim milk skyline flaunts its snow fleck jewellery aloft.
Stars of astral compass spread their twinkle dash on human garlands.
Winter’s stepwise edging in a whirl plume of slush.
Christmas well and truly has arrived.
NB Polish as in Polish Coal,
You walk a hundred miles on the old country road in the sweltering heat, looking for that one thing that will make you complete and the stars in the early morning sky keeping your company as you walk pass the high land with grass covering the house that you once lived.
Everything is still and just the sound of the whippoorwill, the cardinal and the magpie arguing on the hill. I stretched my neck to see if I could get a glimpse of them, but they were way up in the heavens walking on the lines that crossed beneath the savior and the divine.
The clouds moved so fast, and the New Jerusalem was here at last and somewhere in the desert heat they gather in groups with scorched back and sweat dripping underneath their frocks as they journey towards the mountain that touch the sky. They could see it in living colors as they watched discretely from the highlands tower.
I journey up the road looking for the untold myth and the legend of the stolen sea and the bison on the run that stole the beggar’s man’s gun; none of this makes sense to me, I try to piece the story together, but it just could not fit. The whole scene appears absurd to me of how mankind fought with the dragon in the sea, the legend is a thousand-year-old and continues to unravel mankind soul.
I keep walking on the road with complete silence around me, and the thread in the mill keeps walking beside me and it is the only reason why I could not keep still.
All of a sudden, the wind began to blow, and I heard a strange noise in the bush so I crossed the street and went over to look and there it was curled up in thorns and thistle, no wonder I could not get a break though, the deer was waiting for me over there and so I released it and set it free.
I continue to walk towards the endless sea searching desperately for thee, but my soul keeps pining after me. The cold front began to break, and the trees began to shake and the birds in the air guide me on my journey.
WEATHER FORECAST 2018
Good evening ladies and gentlemen! This is your friendly meteorologist at local station lucky 13 on the dial with the upcoming forecast for 2018.
On the horizon, we have a grizzly cold front blowing in from DC. Most of the cold stems from the comments aimed at POTUS for his tweets. How he survives this cold shoulder treatment is his remarkable ability to say "shove it" in just a few short sentences.
In other parts of the country, a former first lady is still making news splashes by lying out of both sides of her mouth. Will she never learn? Her blatant disregard for military might is deplorable yet she keeps haranguing the defenders of America's freedom.
In case you haven't heard, the devil has fled Alabama and is headed back to Georgia. Charlie Daniels has hit Alabama by storm and has 'Old Peck' on the run. He has teamed up with one of America's greatest evangelists, Tony Evans to take America 'by storm'. No pun intended.
In other weather news, the fires in California are totally devastating. It has been said that a new drug on the scene has created a 'flaming desire' in the leftover hippie group, most of whom are in their 80s, to burn California to the ground before leaving for Atlanta to finish what Sherman started.
The chaos created by this sudden trend to create a heat wave has caused Frosty the Snowman to seek asylum at the North Pole and help Santa's elves make toys for Christmas of 2018. At the rate he is working, he is bound to have a 'meltdown'.
Remember, you heard it first on lucky 13. Tell your friends and neighbors about us. It is sure to cause a spark in viewing habits.
This is your friendly meteorologist signing off and heading to Wigley's House of Brew for a cold frosty mug.
Sayonara! Adios! Caio! Bye Bye!
11 January 2018
For Viv Wigley's contest on Weather Forecast 2018
Cold front brings August respite
upon cusp of autumn quite
natural palliative to forget monetary plight
relieving spate of dog days of summer
seasonal crisp balm appeared overnight
evidenced of late by Jeeves
cool temperatures at night
temporarily bumping ugly
global warming with moonlight
sonata courtesy mother nature
perfect bonfire weather courtesy lignite
kept burning chaste cheerful pro bono
strong arm moored Sir Lancelot knight
sinewy physique, muscularly lean
apropos appellation applied Jack Lite
doubling up as Jack Frost
i.e. old man winter based
on Farmer's almanac
forecasters, who possess
sixth sense insight
predicting harsh winter, yeah right
as if standing atop shoulders of giants
towering, rivaling, overshadowing...
Jack and beanstalk re: fabulous height
seedy tale Aesop pose ghostwrite
ten and/or retold by Flora Annie Steel
fanciful imaginative flight
first appeared as The Story to delight
kids all ages of Jack Spriggins and
the Enchanted Bean in 1734 quite
similar to goose that laid golden egg
wishful thinking miniature
cogs and wheels spin
furiously at midnight
fantasizing escaping out
maws o' penury plight
accepting hand to mouth existence
experiencing pleasant distraction
as fall weather doth excite
reminding me seasonal change
could kindle potential playwright
within, which storyline outright
fabrication trumpeting rich mogul
comprising make believe webbed world
frees yours truly 24/7 nightmarish fright
one forlorn bummer groveling along...
holding transformative amulet tight
precious stone of malachite
imparting deep energy cleaning,
bringing healing powers that
powers love delight.
Never make deals with devils or run from them fight tooth and nail strike the root kill the stem who rides Dark wooden trails poet’s wild hunt crossing paths light shatter the cold front riding a goat, great red beard with goat's hooves evil’s king many cloven slippers behooves storm of lies hold truth as bosom’s bride showing as angel of light but death hides Beneath the willows of time in alder realms dark past under the flowering wicker’s elm night rituals try to reclaim what is not theirs hounds run devil-may-care Harlequins dare krampus jolly olé nick Binding birch whip eight legged lies bloody tongue does drip * - based upon Erlking, Der Erlkönig and his supernatural death
Yesterday as the sun was rising on our walk…what should catch our eye….but one humongous…elongated white feather…stretching across the sky.
Our weatherman is quick to inform us…that it’s a cirrus cloud and in it we will find…crystals of ice which means…a cold front will not be far behind.
But when I see a feather in the sky…so tremendous…so long…so white…my mind thinks back to my childhood…and 1001 Arabian Nights.
A Middle Eastern myth?…you might be asking yourselves…Why…
because in this myth the Roc was a huge white bird of prey that prowled across the sky.
Who was large enough to pickup an elephant…from whose arrival even the sun would hide…who, if myths are to be believed, once took Sinbad, the sailor, for a ride.
Meteorologists today will no doubt find my thoughts revolting…but when I see a large feather in the sky…I like to think the Roc is molting.
Besides in a world where we come face to face with harsh realities time and time again…it’s fun to fantasize…to stir our imaginations a little every now and then.
Which is why when I see a feather stretched across the sky…I allow my imagination and reality play….is it the molted feather from one enormous bird…or is there a cold front on the way….
Before you scoff at my ambiguity…as most people and certainly all weathermen do…
let us take a minute and thoughtfully think this through…
A cold front on its way…
or the largest bird one could conceive…
knowing I live in Florida…
which myth should I believe?
A cold front just today blew in,
Bringing with it what seemed like March winds.
Pecan tree limbs are laying all about,
Whoa these winds are blowing they are so stout.
I checked my propane and I’m getting low,
The price has gone up they’re wanting more dough.
When you have to have it what can you do?
I guess I could protest but I don’t look good when my skin turns blue.
I guess I’m lucky I shouldn’t complain,
For there are many who are suffering from the lack of rain.
Major droughts are taking their toll,
In southern states rivers and lakes are turning in to dry old holes.
California is fighting hard to save homes and land from raging fires.
Lord please send us rain and let it be a blessing to our hearts desires.
Everything I see seems to be getting out of hand,
Whether it is an act of God or one created by man.
It seems like nearly overnight things have gone astray.
Greed plays a major role in our culture today.
The only real thing we have left today,
Is we can still gather and commence to pray.
We are restricted as to where we can do these things,
But I also know what power real prayers can bring.
We’re on the wrong track,
But I feel we can get it back.
It’s not going to be easy but things with worth usually are not.
I say bring it on let’s see what you’ve got.
I’m ready for
Tic Tac Toe
Cause I got
my own rhymes to show
Watch me shine
My X’s are always in a row
Can you feel the room react
as it feels my glow
The Tickity Tac Tac
Clackity Clack Clack
Ricky Rhyme Time Show
My measures
don’t need tethers
I’m the man
for any kinda weather
High or low pressure
I’m a national treasure
No cold front here
Just sunshine and pleasure
No need for a sweater
Cause Baby
you rock that leather
You can’t stop
Fast and Furious
I’m the White Tornado
Bright enough for New York City
Cool enough to cruise Colorado
Driving my tricked out Eldorado
Others can brag
I show and tell
My musical bravado
Now it seems Trim the Trimmer
Has served me up for dinner
His words more potent
Than 100 proof liquor
They percolate and simmer
Rhyming sub-textually
Flowing quicker and quicker
Always the right mixture
So as his Rhymes grow brighter
Mine grow dimmer
Time to throw down the mike
and declare Trim the Trimmer
the Tic Tac Toe Award Winner.
Ricky Rhyme Time Rides again
Dedicated to The Rhyme Master Trim.
Just having a bit of fun playing in his sand box.
Inspired by Nick Trim’s “Trim Trimmer Chicken Dinner Winner”.