Long Frosty Poems
Long Frosty Poems. Below are the most popular long Frosty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frosty poems by poem length and keyword.
I've lain beneath this sugar maple before.
In fact, I know it quite well.
And it's seen me and watched me throughout the seasons.
And it has its own stories to tell.
In Spring, it would hear about all my wild dreams
for the months and the year still ahead.
And I'd watch its new leaves unfurl and spread out
for a canopy over my head.
I'd lay there for hours and hours on end
reciting verses 'neath a wet springtime sky.
And sometimes I'd lay there for no other reason
but to ask the Universe "why?"
The maple, of course, would stand silent and still
just listening to my thoughts and my words.
It must have imagined "Just who is this soul
whose passions and dreams I have heard?"
In Summer, I'd lay on an old cotton blanket
and gaze up at the now deep green leaves.
"How beautiful you are," I would say to the tree
and bask in the summertime breeze.
Its shade would protect me on a hot July day
and guard me from the bright August sun.
Butterflies and bees and birds would swoon past me
like a parade put on specially for one.
All about, the clover would bloom and bloom
in a carpet of purple and then white.
And I would lay on my blanket 'til the sun would set
deep into a long summer night.
In Autumn, the maple would be changing again
from its green mantle to that of orange and gold.
And I'd find myself sitting 'neath it in the shortening days
whose warmth turned to darkness and cold.
I pondered on those days beneath that old tree
lingering in the quick fading light.
Its quivering leaves in the brisk Autumn air
seemed to shiver through the frosty Autumn night.
The gold maple leaves would fall by the score
into delicate piles and mounds.
And I'd shuffle through the leaves and they'd rustle and scatter,
then sit 'neath the tree on the cold ground.
In Winter, the maple would stand there exposed,
with limbs and branches all bare.
It seemed all alone, but somehow I knew
that it knew that I would always be there.
It stood in the storms, it stood in the rain
and it stood against the bitter and snow.
I'd look up at it swaying in the hard Winter wind
from the snowdrifts where I stood down below.
Yes, I know it quite well, this sugar maple tree
for it and I grew closer o'er the years.
And come nearer to Spring, the men would come tap
my tree for its sweet syrup tears.
copyright © 2019 Gregory Firlotte
"melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams " (by poet)
a gift from my father - on the first day of college,
"Golden Treasury"...A book of poetry...
the first poem I read... "She Walks In Beauty".
I carried that book throughout my life, even when I stopped reading poems...
even when poetry wasn't the priority any more,
Instead I looked at recipe-books - how to improve my culinary skills,
and became almost a champion chef in a few months.
Wordsworth and Browning were far away from my thoughts,
Coleridge? Oh No! Porphyria's Lover, and Ancient Mariner...
did not exist in my world of reality!
how many glorious summers went by ~ how many frosty winters ~
Delicious food, excellent company,
chasing after active children, stressing about job-opportunities,
exotic travels, grandiose entertainment ...
had time for every little trivial thing in the world...but no time for
the book my father imagined his daughter would embrace the most!
then one miraculous day...when even my father gradually forgot
the girl who used to blossom in the world of words, and poetry....
I found my precious friend collecting dust,
neglected, discarded, in the corner of a shelf.. couldn't believe it was waiting for me with a beating heart ~
each and every page came alive with a magical touch ~
still my name clearly visible, handwritten with my father's calligraphic dexterity !
almost shaking to spot my long-lost treasure, I cried!
overwhelmed with emotions, tears fell!
as if a candle burnt and melted.
every drop of tears brought back the lavender memories ~
of an exhilarating past... my passions, my yearnings,
tender dreams of lilac hues never attained, the abandoned path I was supposed to tread ...
a path strewn with lyrics and verses, ballads and
sonnets like blazing auburn leaves of autumn ~
now shockingly empty and despairingly barren.
the forgotten aspirations and never-met goals...the tremendous sense of loss,
of crushing heart-break, of torturous frustration,
all flooded in!
many lonely years have gone by!
melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams
ultimately my first love has returned !
First Place
May 15, 2021
Inspired by “ He gave her a book” contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Its off to grandma's old fashion cottage we go;
past snow covered pine trees all in a row.
To her humble abode adorned in holiday charm,
And two grey horses inside the red painted barn.
Inside a crackling fire warming- nothing to compare.
With flickering flames dancing with flair,
Mesmerizing grandpa with a hypnotic spell.
And up the chimney smoke bid's farewell.
Grandma's cooking in her colorful blouse
the smell of baked bread drifts about the house,
And Grandpa snoring, asleep in his comfy old chair
in a plaid shirt and head with no hair.
Outside freshly fallen snow- a winter wonderland,
With frolicking young children mittens on hands
playing with vigor on freshly fallen snow
Their rosy red cheeks fully aglow.
Carolers singing along the snow covered street
each one adorned with a smile to greet
With sleigh bells jingling
and people joyously singing.
The aroma of roasted chestnuts swirls in the frosty air
On Maple street near the town square.
The White Chapel's steeple reaching toward the sky
A glorious symbol to the faithful eye.
Inside the tiny White Chapel with lights burn bright
a beacon to the world on this most glorious of nights.
Inside rich harmonious voices with glory to sing
As flying wild geese with the moon on their wings.
The parson adorned in modest vestment
As the choir sings- a worthy testament
Outside its silent, still and calm
Inside the congregation seeks the Savior's healing balm.
Cheerful hearts gratitude they bring
patiently waiting to celebrate the birth of their king.
For it came upon a mid night clear
as their voices raise for the Lord to hear.
Inside grandma's cottage on this snowy Christmas Eve
snuggled warmly asleep in their bed
waiting for Santa's with presents filled in his sled.
Billy, Tommy, Freddy and Steve
Next to the fireplace for Santa to find.
A glass of warm milk and cookies to dine.
Upstairs Sally and Sue unable to sleep
waiting for Santa to get a sneak peek.
Christmas Tree lights blink with a fury
the children wanting Santa to hurry
And mom and dad quietly sitting
Grandma in her rocker quietly knitting.
Decorated stockings hung with care from the fireplace
Sally’s and grandpa's adored with red and white lace
photos of grandchildren that grew up too fast
Grandmother's cottage with memories of Christmases past.
The train, halted under the shade of sacred hill
They flowed out, and, wandered here and there
holding big, small, colorful, old and new packs of belongings
To, find comfortable chests and knees
some carelessly slept on un-desiring places,
but many there stood still
to face the misty, white clouded sky beyond the ridge,
Perceived their feet had reached
the starting point of adventurous tramp
Men, women, young and old with little ones
crept forward Just like a bunchy row of ants
filled with amazement; some stood, and watched
the vivid green forest canopy and flowering ferns
swinging in the frosty breeze!!
The minds filled with compassion, harmony
and respect each other
By murmurous chanting, that oozed into their veins
in the morning twilight
Tenderness of beams brighten the white dresses
of devotees
Time passed slowly
And the far valley down, a string of people moving upwards
on the zigzagged narrow path
Surrounded by thick green vegetation which
being the habitat of bees, birds, butterflies and
variety of big and small animals
Oozy willows dropping pearl like cold water drops
But few of moving people put a glance
at the phenomenon!
What a peregrination, having a cool gust thrill
which each body and its soul begird
The strenuous walk will bring to a halt at the noble foot print
Some managed to reach the desired end
but some could not attain the will
they stopped hopelessly, stepped down
with forsaken aspiration
those who topped the hill, huddle together
engaged customary rituals,
The eco of the ringing bell spread over the chilled atmosphere
through hill tops, forest, and the moving folks
Excitement broke out
Devotees squeezed catch a glimpse of sunshine!
The sun appeared slowly with a trembling smile
through the glistening horizon
Sunshine! Miraculously radiated across the mountain range,
forest canopy and everything
open to tender beams of light
What a huge strength,
Noble hopes and wishes
fulfilled the pilgrimage!
J.Weerakkody
(This poem is about pilgrims who climb the summit of breezy sacred mountain of Sripada, the holy mountain of Sri Lanka, where suppose to be emblematized the footprint of Lord Buddha. After worshiping the sacred footprints the devotees anxiously watch the panoramic maiden sun rise over the sacred mountain. The poem is vividly realized descriptions of nature.)
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.
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Trembling in the silence of a fresh snowfall, awaiting the struggle of laughter and tears, the beautiful that comes from stars shadowed by flakes so gentle they seem to speak silence into the spirit – like the voice of a vision, preaching peace ~ quote by poet
Secreted beneath the gentle fragments, shivering,
Blown in piles, demanding as January’s piercing light,
Silence caressing the stones, the oaks, the pines,
In glistening reflections, hearts possessed,
By the indigo skies who are burning with grace,
Speckled with sensations, amazement –
Sweltering in the 12 degree rays, where moments
Tend to breath in the crispness and release brilliance,
In waves, wisdom from the hunger
Ravenous appetites, awaiting the colors of light,
Friendly aromas of souls, newly blooming,
Emitting sounds that go on, unnoticed, echoes,
Vibrations trembling in soothing sighs…
Melodious blessings, ranging from hearts to insights,
Lifting the nights on wings of angels,
Promising the heavens to release the broken hearts,
Send comfort to the earth in the form of snow,
Who breathes a quiet truth, silence…
Beaming from the tender scales, shavings of ice,
Glittery and crisp, crumbling into moments,
When the laughing sun kisses the blanketed ridges,
Stirring the scene so that only the blurry vision,
Squinted from eyes who remember –
On the snow covered land there is plenty to glimpse,
But only the blinded eyes can truly remember,
How the sparkling snow seemed to shudder and shake,
In silence… deciding just how significant
How consuming is the silence of a shadow,
Reflected on the land whose bathed in fresh white,
The frosty sheen of hope breathing its lasting glance,
Over the peaceful promise of this kind and graceful spectacle,
Commotion in brilliance, awakening the spirit,
With a wonderful white home where the fires crack,
Popping so that even the wood can feel the flames traveling,
Deep into the bones, risking tragedy…
To be lauded by the sensations of Winter’s amazing,
Winter chasing the dreams, the belief, the faded hope…
For those silhouettes who follow the moon,
Ride the stars and twinkle like the deathlike grief,
Who arranges for even the darkness to be plucked from the earth,
By the fresh fallen flurries who break away the brittle,
Soothing souls so that they’re sanctified by the sentimental.
The slowing whine as it came to rest
A spacecraft settled down
Like a mother bird into its nest
Glowing there green and round
Smoke spewed from open ports
The air smelled of gas
Little men came out of doors
And laid upon the grass
There soon formed a crowd from town
Peering at this awesome sight
The spacecraft there coming down
And glowing in the night
The mayor spoke and said he knows
What to feed these creatures green
They feed on French tomatoes
And drink the juice of beans
This is why they landed here
By this garden in the grass
But first to have a nice cold beer
From a large and frosty glass
Now arrived the TV news
Those men of truth renowned
And started doing interviews
To spread the word around
Camera trucks and many more
Big frames of antennae
Microphones by the score
And dishes ten feet high
Beaming waves of HD pics
Popping flashes all around
Sending data high speed flicks
Of the creatures on the ground
Throbbing cables glowing hot
Plugged in every place
Trying to get a camera shot
Of the first from outer space
To scoop this scene
Would guarantee
A place for them
In history
If one could see from outer space
The light from each ones screen
Glowing back in every face
As they peered at those men green
Then finally in a casual way
One begun to speak
In a manner rather cool to say
We come to here in peace
Our trip was going very well
Between some outer stars
When a passenger ask do you sell
Those peanuts grown on mars?
I am the steward here
I serve folks while we fly
Bean juice and good cold beer
And peanuts you can buy
Many times our flights are long
My supply of things run out
We know if things go wrong
The captain starts to shout
We had just crossed the great black sea
A dreadful place to span
This chap had then just beckoned me
For bean juice, another can!
I opened up the saucers store
To take his order back
And It was empty, was no more
The captain blew his stack
We were only half way there
How long here who knows
But the captain does not care
If we need French tomatoes
Our snifter found your plot
This garden full of greens
French tomatoes all you’ve got
And the juice squeezed from beans
Fear not earthling creatures
And even though we’re green
Maybe strange our features
But our nature is not mean
Steward sir, get the door
Our loading it is done
We now have filled our store
Goodbye ..to everyone!
"Kris Kringle Kisses Kalliope"
A Dream: the 4th Christmas.
deck the halls
with memories
poets whisper pasts
that are ne’er forgotten
where presents
a life
that’s neatly wrapped
and attempts at
frostily forgotten
tucked under
that big
beautiful
green fir tree
where all the dreams
of poets go
gold starred, tinselled
and angel mounted
ripe cherries
kissed
crassly
under mistletoe
Ah Christmas
capture me up
in your safe
magic arms
let me sip
the nectar from
your sweet eggnog cups
like Puck’s flower flows
on sultry lips
and eyelids
“love-in-idleness”
"The juice of it
on sleeping eyelids laid
will make man
or woman
madly dote
upon the next
live creature
that it sees”
poet or pup
crimson berries crushed
against a velvet tongue
bedazzled and
bewitched
fires crackling
logs like legs
drop and wrap around
the flames
while in my dreams
I await beneath
the sugar coated
blankets of a bed
charmed by snowflakes
dusting houses in a row
through misted windows
where “paper people....
dream
their cardboard dreams”
“how unreal
the whole thing seems
can we be living in a world
that is made of paper mache?
Everything is clean
and so neat
anything that is wrong
can be just swept away”
inside is very still...
not shaken
like a snowglobe -
surreal
damned be
the dams of
Love-in-Idleness
where eyes reflect
your shadow
in my dream
like opium smoke
across cracked glass
remember how we
all once were
some beautiful happy
if we could just pull the chord
so fresh out of ...
class
rewind our time
rewind it
to yesterday
like a toy
across the
ocean bobbing
like a buoy
an Iceberg keens and cries
Nutcracker twirls
Sugarplum
Kris Kringle Kisses
Kalliope
Oberon...
reals
Titania in
Slo mo’
Magic
mmm
Romance
lacy
frosty
melting
snow.
An iceberg cries
in time with
Christmas eyes
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2020)
“Paper Mache” / Dionne Warwick
https://youtu.be/85TK2Bia6w8
"There must have been some magic in
That old top hat they found
For when they placed it on his head
He began to dance around"
Death of I-Kons
In my life, I have seen many movies.
I watched wonderful animation,
tell stories that touched my heart,
over the years of my life.
Now they are stabbing the elusive
cartoons with sensor-driven remarks
and woke-ism that cuts and shreds
like a trash machine,
in the kitchen...
compacting and changing
the shapes of all things
it is fed,
or chooses to consume
on its on.
(EATR Machines, Military Robots)
I have read many books,
texts on history and science.
I was blessed and attended college,
to learn about business
and the world at large.
It was enough to get by,
and make a life.
They taught ethics and morals,
and math to me.
Now on TV, they change the rules.
They do as they please,
hire for the numbers,
and fire for the color of their skin...
to win at some kind of gamble,
no one knew or agreed to take.
(Gambling was legalized on March 1, 2022
legalization of betting on and off-reservation lands.
Now Advertised directly on the TV)
The parks are full of tents.
There is nowhere to take the children,
that they will not see, the evil of the day.
There is no protecting them,
from the darkness that is consuming the land.
The only hope is the Hand of God.
Resources running out,
wasted by the powerful...
taking jets to lunch in Paris.
Food unimportant to those that have full pantries,
and ice cream in their favorite flavor,
ready to be consumed,
at leisure.
(Gourmet flavors for the head of Congress
at $14 a gallon.)
I grew up on "good wins over evil".
I grew up on do the right thing,
because it was and is the right thing to do.
Grandma told.
Grandpa told me.
And, most importantly God told me.
So why is the world upside down?
Why do bad people hurt so many,
and so few do anything about any of it?
Frosty is melted.
Rudolph was hunted down,
and given a vaccine.
Twenty-eight food sources,
factories and processing plants,
have been leveled
in just under two years.
Two by plane alone.
But who would really believe that?
The energy supplies have been cut off,
or sent to other countries,
by our sitting president.
The citizens go hungry,
and the children cry.
But that is okay,
they are meant to die.
All part of the plan.
Did you vote for this?
Did anyone?