Long Naturewinter Poems
Long Naturewinter Poems. Below are the most popular long Naturewinter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Naturewinter poems by poem length and keyword.
Step aside, Mr. Gore, as the world's people rebel
Despite your predictions, Earth is not as hot as hell
We took your global warnings seriously at first
But for your dire forecasts, we no longer thirst
UN scientists who'd backed up your warnings
Now say there's no evidence the planet is warming
Instead, a mini ice age raps on a frosty door
A whiteout winter lingers; snow still covers Earth's floor
Was it all a ruse to propel yourself to the spotlight?
As the blizzards wreak havoc, you've fallen from our sight
And worse, we are left to wonder why you paid no heed
To historical cycles that made your theories weak
Prehistoric species fell during a period of heat
And proof of past ice ages are preserved in Mammouth meat
So please do us a favor and stay, as now, in hiding
Your doom and gloom prophecies we are now deriding
With each shovel of unprecedented winter snow
Angry Americans shake their heads and want to know
If it was the speaking engagements and book sales
That led you to express your global warming wails
Or did corporate backers of your "green energy" business
Lead you to attempt to spoon feed us utter nonsense
Pollution is of great concern to all with conscience
But attributing climate cycles to it simply made no sense
The UN scientists now say they've lost all supporting data
Belief in "global warming" has been tossed back at ya
My great-grandmother is sitting
outside in the winter sun,
with a double-felted deel,
snow white hair,
and a hat,
just taking it in.
I play at her feet, and I
make a racket,
running fast about,
I raise dust in front of Great Mother,
whom even the birds ignore.
The quiet fire in her gentle soul
was once very fierce they say
but all I see when I look at her,
is the calm warmth in her eyes,
while I play at her feet
with the clouds, rocks
the desert spirits, and the sky.
She moves with effort, no complaints,
she takes upon all the worldly cares
feeds, clothes, and shelters me,
fetching and tending,
to food, water, and fire--
Ah, fire, they say, she broke hearts
of men who rode over mountains
who crossed icy rivers;
and they say, she knew,
Knew, and her hair grew more gray,
when five of her seven children--
the exact moments they each died.
As I play with the clouds,
the rocks, the desert spirits, and the sky,
I know my Great Mother--
she lives in them all now,
somehow in that cold winter sun, she's still
sitting there with a double-felted deel, and a hat.
As I play at her feet, running fast about
sometimes I glimpse her snow white hair, and,
she takes upon herself
all of my worldly cares.
Our fig in January, entirely denuded now
like my heart in your absence, is but
more beautiful, if possible, in its seasonal
solemnity than in summer's exacting extravagance.
The trunk, grown massive in manhood, is a citadel
of strength supporting the curving bowl of its
branches as they bend back into themselves, becoming
the bare black sculpture of winter trees Hemingway
described in Paris in the Jardin of Luxembourg
where we used to walk, following in his footsteps.
These prayerful branches, grown as large as
the beanstalk giant of storybook lore, cup
the sky, making a sieve through which rain filters,
better for unobstructed passage to its
earthbound blessing, clearer for the distillation.
Above ground two massive roots, more visible
in winter definition--veins from the beating heart
of the tree--though siblings still, sprawl out
in different directions, then disappear wherever
they are traveling, who knows where? Not
climbing skyward like Jack on his leafy ladder,
but earthward out of sight toward a Southern
provenance, toward Provence, perhaps,
as if impassioned for home.
HAPPY NEW YEAR FELLOW SOUPERS!
Earth's rotation slow,
Sun dancing upon fallen snow.
Through the winter so long,
Hidden among the clouds, strong.
Please come out soon,
You're not the moon.
Hidden behind gray stretched sky,
Why oh why! do you have to be so shy!
You've hidden you shining face,
Out in the open is your place.
Gloom you give, when your away,
For beneath you, the children should run and play.
To long you've been away,
Wont you shine again today.
I've waited for your smile for so long,
Peaking between the clouds is wrong.
What tomorrow have you in store,
It's you Mr. Shy Sun do I adore.
Shy Sun amidst the tempting clouds,
Rays sprinting delicately over listless crowds.
You should show youself again,
For we love to see your huge bright grin.
The winter without you is just so wrong,
Don't please, don't delay your presence to prolong.
I await you patiently when you are away,
For soon you'll shine and make my day.
Your can't shine every day, that I realize,
Though in the dark of winter, of you I visualize.
Your all about, for our fun,
Please come out Mr. Shy Sun.
Linda Terrell
March 8, 2010
The last leaf did fall,
winter clouds bring the first storm.
Earth rest in slumber.
Most birds have gone south.
Cold winter winds staying now,
sparrows search for food.
Some have black and white
crowns, some just two tone brown.
They hide in the trees.
Sun is bright, cold day,
rest upon Earths frozen crust.
The water is frozen.
Birds seek human friends
to feed and keep fresh water,
with help they survive.
A chill wind bites coyly at exposed necks,
not yet draped in tourniquets of wool.
A wrapping of white, buries ribbons of asphalt.
The ways fills with metallic horsepower.
Goblets of slush like spittle fall, splat,
upon once virginal snowfields.
The rape of Winter had begun.
Rutting like rabid beasts in heat,
the roadways lay revealed before the power of the storm.
Cumulous clouds belch from grills of chrome.
As Winter like the Sabine Women, weapon in hand,
pummels the oncoming horde with icicles.
Power falls from an angry, cloud-filled, sky
weighty and white, Winter defends herself.
The surge of day brings forth an endless tide of travelers;
trampling her breast, ravaging, the once pristine vista;
shredding the thin veil of purity, only the Goddess brings;
laying waste, in mounds of mud like filth, The Mother.
She curls inward. Her indrawn breath freezes gears
grinding, screeching, shrieking the earth succumbs.
In snow like ash she lays vanquished.
Gloomy winter mornings are replaced with light
The dark and dismal days now seem more bright
The leaves now start forming on the trees
In the delightfully lifting warming breeze
Daffodils lifting their heads so high
Colourful flowers are catching the eye
Bluebells arise filling barren nakedness
Cold and frosty mornings getting much less
Sheep all flock together the ewes and the rams
Soon the ewes give birth to their little lambs
Green is taking over from the colourless land
Its renewal time in spring we understand
Springtime is seen as a time for new growth
New life for the plant's and animals both
From March to May the springtime is here
Daylight hours expand and rapidly appear
March has the ‘Merry Weathers’ April has 'showers’
In May it is improving and is brighter for hours
The axis of the Earth increases its tilt towards the Sun
Spring is a season which comes after the winter is done
Autumn leaves dance in the wind
As its breath awakens the trees
The limbs tremble in defiance
As they try to resist the breeze
The trees shiver in the cool morning air
As the dew gives way to the frost
They know their armor will soon be gone
For all of their leaves will be lost
Winter stands ready to enter the stage
And for Autumn to relinquish its hold
It's time for Winter to abandon its slumber
And Autumn must welcome the cold
Winter demands Fall's allegiance
Like a General shouting commands
Autumn must follow its orders
For the time of change is at hand
Winter's cold winds show restraint
As Autumn surrenders in shame
The trees bow down in silence
With Winter's persistence to blame
Winter takes it's rightful place
Til Spring revenges Fall's death
But Winter will battle until the end
Til it breathes its final breath
The snow has gone, melted away,
The air is fresh and sweet.
Bundle up, it's still a cold day
And off, our friends to meet.
Shaking off the winter blues,
It's time for a nature hike.
To visit and catch up with the news
Shared with friends we like.
We're out of shape and we start out slow.
It's supposed to be fun, after all.
So follow the creek, a trail we know,
That leads us up to the Falls.
Cameras are out and clicking away
As the water cascades down.
This time of year it's a powerful spray
With such a roaring sound.
In winter the water rushes on
So powerful, we're filled with delight.
By summer the same creek is almost gone.
Not nearly as an inspiring sight.
So the first walk of the new year
We'll start out nice and slow
But to each other we'll make it clear
The next one will be a 'real hike' you know.
brace for five inches
frozen forecast repeats “snow”
winter storm coming
“12 to 24”
Weather Channel jumps for joy
winter storm warning!
the blizzard arrives
eighteen hours of snowfall
twenty-one inches
morning reveals drifts
waiting for my shovel's edge
to wreck their beauty
sore, aching muscles
attest to snow-free walkways
shovel stored; wine is poured
breathing is painful
windchill at 30 below
following the storm
brilliant sunshine
crystal drifts of sparkling snow
adorn my city