Long Winter solstice Poems
Long Winter solstice Poems. Below are the most popular long Winter solstice by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Winter solstice poems by poem length and keyword.
Hatchet in the tree
Hatchet in the snow
A snowman’s hand gripped
A snowman slashed low
Low falls the timber
Low level UV light
Light reflects white
Light will then entice
Entice by photoelectric effect
Entice by photons in cadence
In cadence with yuletide
In cadence with Christmas time
Time is itself a gift
Time and time again
Again the winter solstice
Again the world will spin
Spin on it's axis
Spin by angular momentum
Momentous holidays will come
Momentous mementos prior
Prior to the feasts
Prior to the givings
Giving a beginning
Giving an end
Endpoint to point
Endpoint to position
Position the world with bows and ribbons
Positioned in a box
A box of dark matter
A box of hot rocks
Rocks wrapped in flavour & colour
Rocks wrapped in gravity & electric charge
Charged forward by a vacuum
Charged forward at 0 dollars cost
Cost just a kiss under the mistletoe
Costs just an open heart, does it not?
Not if not genuine
Not because it ought to be
Be because you ought to be
Be joyeux noel
Joyeux noel Deus ex machina
Joyeux noel God by machine
Machinations of generosity against greed
Machinations of compassion against apathy
Apathetic the inanimate object
Apathetic indeed
Indeed life is an incantation
Indeed the miracle we need
Needless to say
An incantation speaks atop the tree
As boy I loved summer for holidays
Notwithstanding its sweltering hot days,
In youth I found it good--
It strips all nearly nude,
Now when I’m old, it matters in no ways.
Today, summer feels like God’s grave mistake,
Perhaps He in heaven had little stake
For hot summer on Earth,
Maybe it was His mirth --
Betwixt two stress-less climes, an Amphibrach!
Nigh undeterred by it, humid and damp,
Summer’s the time to put troubles on ramp
And roll them down to hell,
To deepest of its dale,
Whist haply you hail in a summer camp.
The wise tell me of their view often rolled:
When hot, youth tend to lose morale’s fine gold.
But then, it’s in cold climes
More than at any times
That morale’s lost under warm blanket fold.
Summer solstice nor ever a full moon
That love surrounds O like sound on sand dune,
It is winter solstice
More likely to entice
You leisurely till late night’s reigning noon.
___________________________________
Limerick |14.07.2024| summer
Poet’s note: Summericks: Limericks on summer
Winter Is here,
Fear washed away my sorrow with desperation and opportunism,
Now I wait for winter,
For I will meet the woman of my dreams in winter,
Torrid freezing,
Will throw her into my arms,
Winter is here,
Fear washed away my manhood with white supremacy,
I’m dreaming of a white woman,
To wash away all of my sorrow,
I am desperate and opportunistic,
Winter is here,
I finally found my white bride,
She told me she loved me as she put me in handcuffs for being black,
I cried tears of joy,
Winter is here,
My jacket is white like the snow,
It makes me look cool,
But I can’t move,
And boy do I have some moves.
As dawn vanquished the winter solstice
the celebrations were over but
Mary and Joe felt frisky,his fingers
underneath her dress, stirring her pot
keeping her simmering till she
arched her back and moaned,
pressing against his hand
as her juices overflowed.
Joe settled back licking his fingers
as Mary dropped to her knees
and burrowing under his robes
released his staff and slowly,
teasingly relieved his tumescence,
although her hymen remained intact.
Satiated they spooned, chatting
of their upcoming nuptials
and Joe shared the rumor that
King Herod was to grant passage
to some learneds from the East
who were seeking to observe
next year's comet.
They always brought
trade goods with them,
so Joe was short selling
frankincense and myrrh
but he thought gold
would stay firm.
Their conversation then turned
to their upcoming journey
to register in Joe's natal town.
Another damned tax,
the Romans would run
them into penury.
And he'd better book a place
at the Inn early, or else
they'd end up sleeping
in the stable.
February second - requires one
with acute hearing to cock, and ear
turnips tickling the nose nostrils
delicate hairs (instagram ideal outlook) subtly,
markedly, lively..., yet gently flair
soon harkening shrieks
of delightful analogous funfair
no stranger to Renaissance Faire
of pitch perfect gamesomeness
will seem as... otherworldly pleasant
ah heaven sent giftware,
where all creatures great and small
sing psalms, upon arrival when hardware
trappings of winter shucked witnessing
unrolled welcome Scottish mat so hare
and tortoise can race,
cuz vernal equinox, sports a linkedin
improvisational, ebulliently
educational, cerebral, audiological...
twittering melange I will hear,
and grateful no defect doth impair
ability to revel silence, slake, soak...
insatiable thirst even prodding junketeer,
panhandler, vendor...
the last named,
perhaps selling kitchenware
knicknacks, keepsakes...
to hippies (think yours truly)
with long wavy hair
interwoven with Kahila
Garden Lily, Laurel, Maidenhair...
profusion of sensual delight
brings Mother Earth near,
the body, mind, and soul
espying frolicsome *****sapiens
donned with minimal outerwear
infusing all living things
common native plants and animals
in conjunction with resident outlier
particularly those pining
to answer call of the wild overdare
ring and bee zee lee court'n prepare
ring to beget young as
singular requisite quintessential profiteer
fluttering, instagramming emoji,
sans shutterfly puppeteer
as audience visually already reddit
regarding acting entire scenes,
viz Biblical Genesis answering prayer
particularly if gnostic, heterodox, *****...,
finally relieved, sans polar vortex
albeit somewhat rare
atmospheric phenomena, how ideal
if said rabid Jack Frost
would sink icy bite - part
and parcel green gang
at much more favorably time reappear
during oppressive heat spell during
sweltering triple digits temperature
summer re: time of year.
I am sunk deep
in the dark of this day,
peer out of a hollow
that holds the tribe's history
drawn in ochre on a rock wall.
Outside is a numb, frozen world
that yields little food. Animals
are scarce and I am kept alive
by stealth and making most
of the meager offerings that
fall to my spear.
I hate being here,
imprisoned in a poem, placed
in this icy wasteland of prehistory,
cold, abandoned in a pocket of time
by a poet sitting in a warm room
in the twenty-first century.
Note.
Winter Solstice will occur
on the the twenty first of June
for us southern hemisphere
tribes.
I went out back
And sat
On a stone bench
To watch the sun set
Just before 5:00 on Winter Solstice
The cold stung the skin of my Levis
Then fit the back of my ass and legs
Like a saddle of numb
There’s no frost line in the ground
So my dog’s paws were dark as leather gloves
His golden face and pink tongue
Speckled black from chasing his ball
Through the mud
Steam puffing
From his panting mouth
Like a choo choo train
Climbing a hill
Fogs up my glasses
The Engineer
As he begs for another toss
Past
The fallen autumn limbs
Stabbing the ground
Like reindeer antlers at the end of rut
Dropped off from their master’s heads
Their use for the year
Abandoned
As the night pours over
The vanilla day
Like a hot fudge sundae
The red coat of Santa
A shiny cherry
Lit
Up there
On our roof top
Ho ho hoing
To the longest night of the year
It’s time for me to go inside
Warm up by a fire
Let my dog rest his head in my lap
As we listen to the old crooners
Wind down the world with Christmas carols
So very very slowly.
Winter Solstice Heralds Cyber Age
Summer Solstice has the longest day and the shortest night
Winter Solstice has the shortest day and the longest night
Mid Winter Night's Dream is the play that Shakespeare didn't write
On this night the stars, galaxies and nebulas perchance to dream
The Greco-Roman mythical gods descend to Mount Olympus
Let the play begin with Zeus' lightning fireworks, classically recreated
The chorus of frogs comment on the party to end all parties
The sun rises on Olympus heralding the Dawn of the Cybernetic Age
In Memory of November
November filled the gap to play the waiting game
Recalling the past in quiet reflection
A cold dark void of neither here nor there
With beauty nonetheless
As black pervades this month of loss
And fading light relinquishes its hold
A peace transcends all mournful life
When one remembers
Aflame the flickering waxy light
That conquers invasive darkness
Symbolic hope that paves the way
Toward a winter solstice time of plenty
While November’s pyrotechnic night of flare
Heralds a cacophony of gunfire sounds
Erupting in the sky to fall as fragile poppies
And thus to rest upon the sanguine soil
November remembers and sings a requiem
A shrewd eyed crow in shiny funeral dress struts his stuff
Amid the summer remnants of decay
Then alights upon a skeletal branch to watch the sleeping world
And there to pause awhile in memory
Walking carefully in the dark,
Up the gravel driveway.
Bumpy bits under my feet.
Want a path? No way!
I’m here to feel things as they are,
No help from path or lights.
Too feel the stillness and the dark,
On this cold, old night.
The longest night of the whole year
Has come around again.
I want to sense it’s presence full
Because I known not when
My life here in this living world,
Will come to an end.
Experience it fully, wholly,
Holy too I say.
I won’t be here tomorrow
But I may not go away.