Long Frosts Poems
Long Frosts Poems. Below are the most popular long Frosts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frosts poems by poem length and keyword.
With women the heart argues, not the mind.
MATTHEW ARNOLD, Merope
1. The stand of old growth Melalucas, graces the lowlands of our farm.
For over fifty years, accumulations of leaves have formed small soft islands.
“With selective clearing,” my husband says, "larger areas of grassland will grow.
More grazing for the cows and less hay we’d need to buy in Winter."
Inwardly, I lament, not wanting to lose the beauty of these trees
with branches that rise like huge broccoli bunches against bright blue skies.
My husband, much harder, by necessity, over-rules my sentiments.
2. Conveniently, earth-moving machines appear early on the first day
of the New Year. They cut a long swathe
but on the dam are left a large row, marked by me,
for sanctuary.
They cast reflections on the still water.
3. The felled trees are piled into rough heaps. Prophetically, the car
of the Inspector for Primary Industries appears.
“You must know, these are protected trees.”
He asks for permits (not granted) and orders a ‘cease and desist.’
His scowling looks are an indictment.
4. For months the operation was on hold
and, then the rains came and the floods—almost our undoing.
Flocks of water-birds occupied the flats, nesting on the islands
formed by the grassy hummocks. When these waters receded,
an overgrowth of young melalucas sprouted, where the old trees
had once stood. A network of roots underground had signaled
a catastrophe. New nodes erupted along all the root-ways.
Dumbly they announced their guardianship of the swampy land.
“Give us back to time,” they said , but the un-relenting slasher
leveled them again, so grass could grow.
5. I go back into my house now, secretly pleased the trees are speaking.
The topaz flames from the fireplace, warm my bones.
The hoary frosts have come. The envelope containing the D P I’s
decision waits on the mantel shelf, propped by a row of grazing, ceramic cows.
From the window I see our cows enter between the Melalucas.
They graze on the new growth pasture.
I warm my hands, as the flames lick firewood.
The scent from Melaluca smoke haunts me.
Suzanne Delaney
365 words
Dazzling moon in tangerine
Glowing scarlet like warm desire
Azure skies caress the thoughts
While cobalt dreams and crimson
Trees flame to life with lavender
Lilac thrives through a buttery sun
Like lemons laughing through the dawn
Blushing burgundy and cherry smiles
On ruby and sapphire webs of insight
Breathless seas of indigo and cerulean
Emerald pines and forests of jade
With olive and avocado fantasies
Whispering through chocolate hues
Burnt by the coffee sheen of a brunette
Or wash-out blond in the silhouette
Auburn leaves fall from dusky dark trees
Who know fall with its gloom and shadowy
Murk of cream and ashen beige crispness
Lingering on the air in hints of musky, milky
Bleached out rays of soft light, rays of peace
Ginger hopes with carrot shaded prayers
Amber and silver, graying frosts like ice crystals
Soothing away the snowy chill with regal
Bursts of violet and plum praises on the hearts
Of wine dyed visions for the silence of night
Milky white layers of amethyst and navy
Pray for the grace to lighten the heavy grief
Of those who know the shadows and light
Are only there for a while, like royal blue
Soft pink, red, yellow, green and purple
All the colors in the universe conspire to show us
Joy beyond imagining in the hues and shades
Of happiness, kindness, faith and fulfillment
Found inside a kaleidoscope of brilliant aliveness
Love like this is a hymn of God’s quiet power
It is through color, soft or strong, rich or poor
Bold or faint, delicate or robust, wise or foolish
Colors who dance to life on the twinkling starlight
Breath sighs of love into a fire within the spirit
This sense of serenity is alive with tenderness
I was wondering: were Frost’s promises
The same as yours and mine?
There had to be some point at which
His obligations, duties, call them what you will,
Became in his own mind solemnised,
Such that their forgetting could not be.
And even the creak of hooves in snow
Could not lull memory aside.
The woods. The night. The falling flakes.
And of course the shake of harness bells.
Perhaps that sound itself raised need
To pen his thoughts to verse,
To pause no more observing
Those boughs becoming blanketed in white?
Maybe that’s so. Maybe that’s so.
And here I make no further promises until
I’ve served the ones I know.
Stranger
I never really met him
But I know him
I know his face in profile
The furrows of his brow
I’ve seen it enough times
At Barnes & Noble browsing Asimov
I’ve seen him
Leaving the loft
Watched his hands
Holding the door
For his momma at the beauty parlor
He always tips the stylist who frosts his mamma’s grays
The other day I just missed him
Leaving the last row of the church pews
The handout he left behind was still warm
His pencil still on the floor beneath the ancient wooden bench
And on Tuesday, I watched him do a coffee run
for the guys at the office
I know it was him
I floated in on his Perry Ellis
He takes his coffee black with extra sugar
He goes running on Saturday mornings rain or shine
Always listening to Miles
I still hear the bass echo in the trees
He has his board meeting
Every third Thursday
I know ‘cause he always picks up his dolce suit
Every third Wednesday
Then stops for a fade
Spends an hour with his boys
If I time it just right
I might get lucky
And bump into him
Accidentally of course
I betta’ do it this Sunday
‘Cause this Monday
Is his first date
With the chick who frosts his mamma’s grays
The autumn winds are rattlin' the leaves of corn stalks in the fields.
The corn has been harvested and the farmers are calculatin' their yields.
Golden, yellow and crimson leaves are strewn along the country lane.
Autumn! What a glorious season! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
Mornin' frosts spread a coat of icin' atop every corpulent punkin'.
Jolly kiddies gather at parties for an old-fashioned apple-dunkin'!
Skeins of geese are wingin' south with their cousins the Whoopin' Crane.
Autumn! What a resplendent season! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
The branches of apple trees bend low bearing luscious apples galore,
Golden Delicious, Granny Smith, Rome Beauty and so many more,
Waitin' to be plucked from California's shore to the rocky coast of Maine!
Autumn! What magnificent splendor! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
Ah! To lounge by the fire and enjoy popcorn and cider when the snow flies,
And at Thanksgiving to gather with family to savor Grandma's apple pies!
Jars of apple sauce and apple butter line larder shelves, the winter to sustain!
Autumn! The most delightful season of all! 'Tis apple pickin' time again!
Alas, I won't be pickin' apples from my one and only apple tree this fall!
Sneaky worms, hordes of squirrels and birds have eaten them one and all!
The way those varmints robbed me of my apple crop is a downright crime!
But despite it all, I still cherish autumn 'cause its apple pickin' time!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
(Not for the contest)
As if it is whitish blanket on the body of weather
The smoky fogs are running with the morning air
Through the muddy path of village we are walking
For the juice of date tree eagerly we are searching
Delightful scent of fresh evaporated cakes of winter
Stirring up our thirst to enjoy this with full of devour
The sweetest raw sunlight of the dawn thru chirping
The environment of the Eden Garden as if composing
Drops of the wintry dew are twinkling in the crops field
Farmers are busy in caring that as true natural shield
Frosts of grassy leaves are soaking the bare feet softly
Winter coolness awakes the naturalness in man naturally
©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
12/01/2023
'12 Lines of Rhyme - Winter Nature Themed' Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
I smiled when orange sun bursts peered,
They blush for purple iris leafs,
Us spring tide heart flames so revered,
Like robin red breasts perched on eaves
Cosmic arcs harvest moonlight spread,
Leafy woodland suburbs green shed,
Garden mazes gold mint spiked trail,
Scented frosts plough a snow drop veil
When orange sun bursts peered they blush,
For purple iris leafs I smiled,
So revered like robin red breasts,
Perched on eaves us spring tide heart flames
Fountains spray with ice tip sprinkles,
Seven wonders dash in twinkles.
Poem created : 9 September 2020
Contest : Charonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Charles Messina
Poetry Soup Syllable Counter verified
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Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8
Total # Syllables: 112
For teaching me of unknown paths
For hinting to me of fogs at feet
For reminding me of sunrise tea
For showing me both ink stain and light rain
For simply savoring the simple life
For illustrating the service of the eremite
For singing to paulownia blossoms
For dancing with loneliness
For sculpting sorrow and joy
For nights in caves
For ragged cloths pulled tight against
the biting, bitter frosts
For wondering at tiger tracks
and losing foods to monkey packs
For hunger days
and thirst nights.
For solace found in the brethren-free,
high mountain, echoless and grand...Lonely...
For smiling to passing clouds
For bowing to bent bamboo
For conversing with berries
For chorusing with birds
For sitting at the feet of pebbles
For asking deep of puddles
For taking advice of flocks,
both goats and geese. (And gnats, as well.)
For taking as their audience
the empty Valley
the midnight Sun
the empty bowl
and the passing breeze
I wish to not ever visit
each and every hermit.
Not ever.
Not ever.
Forever.
No, never.
Winter’s silent soul
Kisses away the darkness
With trembling flakes, snow feathers
Cardinals whisper
Blessing the breathless prayers
From hearts who feel love’s inklings
Soundless as snowdrifts
On the edge of a shadow
Caressing the mountains, the stars
Imaginations
Lift the spirits with lights,
Dazzling rays of hopeful fires
Burning away nights
Hues of laughter, kindness sighs
Erasing the fears, the tears
Stirring memories
Moments who prick the spirit
Collecting joy, so gentle
Endless reflections
Melancholy bleeding through
Branding love onto the dream
Aching frosts, bitter
In graceful, glacial coolness
Amazing artic natures
Imagine loving,
Through the snow blanketed days
Rising to find what love means
Drifting on the stars
Enchanting hopes, glistening
Stardust winter tones, rustling
Winter subsides, soft,
As the mellow flurries, calm
Bearing the twilight season
March arrives soon, winds,
Blowing away the last gusts,
Inviting the spring’s new birth.
What would you say, if you had heard
The news that came today
Or rather you won’t say a word
News come and go their way
What would you say, or maybe think
To say, but you won’t do
Would you prefer another drink
To help the time pass through?
It must be hard to find a peace
For those who live to fight
But how can we relate to this
Who knows what else they might?
Come drink my wine, bring up your bread
The music sounds blue
What would you say if all is said
And done, like you would do?
There'll be gale winds, and bending trees
And sun, and rain, and snow
More boats and ships in deep blue seas
And after frosts a thaw
You are the guiding light, my dear
I'll follow you some day
What would you think, if you can hear
The words I didn't say?