Short Frosts Poems
Short Frosts Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Frosts by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Frosts by length and keyword.
Where the frosts' covers are forgotten;
our strength is new life begotten,
with the ripe risen spring blossoms.
Copyright McCuen 2008
in a yellow woods
i chose the path less leaf strewn
as beauty still clung
reds and oranges mixed
browns swirled in last minute
as autumn breathed
let the night last forever
I dance with the sister of Masimini
The night is the triumph of joy over sadness
Autumn frosts are gone,my heart
is in euphoria
this weather
gotto get better
so cold my nose frosts
now I sleep
mind mind beeps
its about summer
am am a bummer
for that ice creams
I am having
WINTER
DREAMS
How beautiful winters fall returns
Natures time to sleep and renew
The wind helps the trees disrobe
Frosts kiss goodbye flowers
Leafless buds bestow
Only once more
Final act
Now rest
Sleep
Whomp…another clump of ice cycles, lands on the patio.
It’s good to see brother sun; he is tired of the cold.
His fiery temper quickly melts away, old Jack Frosts icy rage.
Autumn crisp apples
bob in the rain filled barrel.
Yellow frosts the tips
of the highest leaves,
and olive beige acorns crunch
underfoot. Sunlight
is gold dust chilled
on the edge of the morn' sky.
Hot apple cider.
Autumn frosts my breath,
forming white contrails
of misty vapors,
that get snatched away
by a feisty breeze.
Color swiftly
diminishes,
as the wind strips
leaves from the trees.
And scarecrows
abandoned
in the fields:
suffer
Winter's
wrath.
She willed in tempered frosts
that hidden,
without consternation
the pew should call his name
Pale pink shadow,
of hushed cheek
Knowing her rose in origin,
and passages through,
a shameful pride began his edifice,
as her joys sculpted his rituals
Crisp beauty of winter's first breath
filters setting free
crystal pierced emotion,
grab hold of me
Clouds held out inhibitions
night frosts left behind functionality
dainty the flowers,
lost in misery
Blankets soothe the sleeping
the canvas becomes pristine
images erupt euphoria,
as far as eyes can see
Soon I will feel the familiar pall of dread
As the sun slips toward the horizon
And the north winds come calling again
With bitter frosts and bone-aching chills
Ice-encrusted limbs follow the cold rain
While midday is lucky if it sees the sun
I am lucky if spring doesn't find me dead!
written September 27, 2021
Morning dew frosts the window,
a beam of light stripes the room-
echoes of bluebirds trickle
among the primeval music-
before the world has woken up
a sip of coffee suffices
is enough to make you smile-
or reflect on that quiet morning
when it's you and nature blooming in moment
don't forget to swallow these moments whole
Stepping outside
The cold bites my nose
Eats my toes
Ices my cheeks
Frosts my feet
Turns blue my knee's
It's -8 degrees!
The cold nibbles my ears
Freezes my fears
Clanks my teeth
Oh good grief!
Catches my eyes
Takes me by surprise
It's so cold
It gets to my soul
Racks my brain
Rids of the pain
All in stepping outside
The last rose of summer is rapidly fading on the vine.
'Twas once as brilliant as a splendid claret Bordeaux wine.
Alas, autumn frosts hath wrought their deadly sting.
Thankfully, another will bring me pleasure come next spring!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
It numbs my hands
It frosts my soul
Plays with my head
This wicked cold
I'm petrified, angry
Frozen, can't think
Thoughts spin in circles
A mental ice rink
I want you to warm me
To melt in my skin
Climb over my glaciers
Heat me with sin
Please hurry come burn me
A storm's to unfold
Flame me, save me
From this cruel wicked cold.
I saw it in a film: his city is beautiful.
Snow is everywhere, the trees are crowned
with it, and ice skims the harbor,
frosts ships, going nowhere. Even when
he held me, there was ice in his heart,
Ice in the pale blue of the washed-out
sky beyond his closed eyelids, ice
beading his vodka skin, and
"You are hot," he said, "Hot,
hot, hot..."
Gloomy's the yard covered with fallen leaves
Winter's coldness comes with winds wet with rains
Lonely souls dread most the lengthy cold nights
A quick-paced life about thin frosts complains
A cocoon imprisons the silkworm tight
Burnt out candles waste their flickering light
The empty house is a daily sad thing
Only the beauty's worshiped in painting
Withered wishes
lick the sap of spring
and loose all they've held,
except all that dared to
winter in a heart
that clings where hope's
tendrils grow tired and
brittle
and still ~ in their final
vestige of existence,
braved the relentless frosts
and hold firm,
even in their death,
the supple youth that will
bear the fruits of
another season...
You swing onto the ramp of anticipation
then sputter and stall, deceleration
March, thy name is frustration
Your southern breezes arise and tease
‘til night plunges the ground in deep-freeze
March, your late frosts displease
Your rains help the leaves start to bud
then your snows turn frail flowers to duds
March, your name I spell M-U-D
I have written a series of these word pictures of people who have touched my heart. There are possibly more to come.
Connie
smile, bubbles of mirth
a gentle thrill of breeze
upon my fevered searcher brow
water witch of oceans, mother
conjures hopes of peace
then feasts of laughter
warmth against the frosts of doubt
joyful harbour, rest at last
within the love of Connie.
Spring Was Delayed
by Michael R. Burch
Winter came early:
the driving snows,
the delicate frosts
that crystallize
all we forget
or refuse to know,
all we regret
that makes us wise.
Spring was delayed:
the nubile rose,
the tentative sun,
the wind’s soft sighs,
all we omit
or refuse to show,
whatever we shield
behind guarded eyes.
Originally published by Borderless Journal
MY WINTER WINDOW
~~~~~~~~~~~
out of my winter window
tree buds, springtimes glow
hazel blossomed weeks ago
not seen a great deal of snow
false security, still time to go
still, frosts and winds do blow
bluebells they should know
snowdrops, mm, so sorry no
out of my winter window
flora starting, to early though
'climate warming' I've told you so
all out of my winter window
"Reach high, for stars lie hidden in you. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal."
Rabindranath Tagore
Soul seeks splendor, sweetly sent stream.
Destiny delivers drab dismal dream.
Dictating, dawn's dew delight.
Raptures reminisce rivalled respite.
Frosts found frozen, fall freed.
Sycamore scents send somber seed.
Supreme silence, so softly swept.
The Park Bench At Christmas
While sitting on a park
bench after snow
I watch how lamplight makes
the landscape glow.
As polar gales descend
in crystal dreams
When snowfall frosts the
grove of evergreens,
Icicles form on limbs
of barren trees...
An enchanting tableau
of winter's freeze.
December 1, 2018
The Park Bench At Christmas Contest
Sponsor Sara Kendrick
Picture # 4
Before you bloomed for me alone,
You had to taste the bitter rains,
And face the heat of scorching droughts,
Until your thorns grew strong and sharp
Before I felt your petals bright,
And gently held your slender stem,
You had to suffer aching frosts,
Until the warmth of Spring began
Before my heart could swell again,
With everything I thought I'd lost,
You had to grow through darkest nights,
To know day's welcome dawn.