I arrived there in morning hours oh so very wee
And staked mine a place, from whence I wouldn’t flee
Savage winds blew cold against my frozen face
My vision blurred of sleet and snow as they interlace
And with their needled impact against my icy skin
My precarious situation was finally sinking in.
I knew my frozen fingers had turned a shade of blue
But I dared not look for confirmation of their hue.
For from that confirmation, were I to so engage,
My soul would fill with anger and mind be filled with rage.
Occasionally, shuffling sounds of cold impatient feet
Could be heard above the sounds of driving snow and sleet
And other souls about me, were just about to drop
When Walmart’s doors opened up and we could CHRISTMAS SHOP!
When the weatherman warned
of 50% rain in the offing he neglected to state
and neither advised nor informed
what the other half would advocate
perhaps hail sleet smog snow
or fleecy fluffy clouds
floating overhead instead
and if so I wonder where they go
wind-blown oh so far away
I guess we'll never ever know
meanwhile we'll have to wait
to see what his non-prediction
weather-wise will precipitate
Sliding down the sky a frosty scene
Liquid ice frozen on licorice street
Every drop dancing falling so free
Engaging my tires as I’m driving
Terror and delight as I’m sliding
biting frosty spells
cloud chimneys pouring snow down
shaggy bear cares not
Place: 4th
falling snow tricks mind
rain and snow become wet sleet
rainstorm not snow storm
Little Birdie in the rain,
will you hide ‘til it starts to wane?
Little Birdie in the snow,
do you have a warm place to go?
Little Birdie in the heat,
do you know of a cool retreat?
Little Birdie in the cloud,
do you forever stand up proud?
Little Birdie in the sleet,
will you hide underneath a sheet?
Little Birdie in the wind,
will your untidy feathers mend?
Little Birdie whatever you do,
remain safe and attend to You!
A crack in the night’s deep silence
thundering and blinding!
I stop to listen and watch
the falling daggers of ice,
snapping limbs, and shivering snow
dumping in clumps from shaken trees.
I slog on in search of shelter,
a windbreak from the bursting gusts.
Freezing flurries bite my face
tingling and burning with the cold.
Sleet descends in sheets of ice
blanketing the earth while
wild creatures scurry down
through tunnels burrowed beneath
crackling and crinkling leaves,
seeking their own shelter from the storm.
Each time might be the last,
The last I see your face,
Sad and smiling eyes; the last
Your lips mouthing promises,
Goodbyes, eager to go,
Certain of return, sure of this place.
It's different when you're old.
Blossoms treasured that may for you
Never come again, a song of birds,
A patterning of stars,
Each moment bursts on consciousness
And burns its possibly last
But not enduring sign.
Finally scorching through with
Gathered, accumulated intensity,
The beads fall scattered to the ground.
I sit, unable to respond
To the tasks of the world.
Imperious spattering and singeing
Like cold sleet slants against the face
Burns, melts, evaporates...
My son, my son, soon it will seem
That I have wandered off
Having somehow forgotten you.
May 12, 2022 2022 Poetry Marathon 8" Mark Toney
Winter Sleet
2/23/2022
Miracle Man
Buckshot pellets from the sky,
many thinking I’m the bulls-eye.
Frigid cold they sting my skin,
should I be out, or have stayed in.
Could be enjoying a burning log,
but I’m here feeding a poor stray dog.
I’ll get her inside where its warm,
It appears her bees soon will swarm.
A light breeze falls soft
whispering a quiet faith
raining kindness breath
along the shadow's caress
dancing with hues of sweet grace
Bite Size Poem 3 Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
May 29, 2021
Bo-Peep Cannot Sleep
Poor Little Bo-Peep can't drift off to sleep
Being far too excited to even count sheep
Can't wait can she, to wake up and see
The prezzies that Santa's left under the tree.
There's only a few more nights left to go
Till Santa arrives with a loud 'Ho! Ho! Ho!
Bo so hopes it snows, and should that be so
Her fleece get the chance to gambol in snow.
She closed her eyes as tightly as she could
As any small sleepy shepherdess should
Sheep still awake thought they’d have a party
So pranced o’er the meadow hale and hearty.
Then cross with her flock for disturbing her sleep
She snapped "that's no way to be treating Bo-Peep"
Those naughty sheep gave her a sorrowful bleat
She forgave them right there and sang lullabaa's sweet.
2nd December 2020
We have not had a full week at school for seven weeks.
Our students are pumped, not realizing maybe...
We will be going to school until the cows come home.
Yes, I know it is an Iowa expression,
Being from Iowa, I feel I can use it. Moo. Moo.
I am doing my mooing now,
Because in the summer, I imagine I will not feel mooing.
There will be no joy at all....
When we are stuck in school
Two weeks after the date we thought we were getting out.
Come on, ice, sleet and snow.
Listen up Jack Frost.
Please cancel next Saturday's snow.
I am yelling “Uncle!”
Enough already.
Though rain in the spring might be sweet,
Something flowers and bushes all greet,
In the winter what falls
Is what hardly enthralls,
But instead is that stuff known as sleet.
It makes all the cars slip and slide
And for people who venture outside,
We get pelted with ice,
Which is not very nice
And we couldn’t walk fast if we tried.
Without all the beauty of snow,
And making our to and fro slow,
Sleet just gets in the way
And it spoils the day;
How I wish it would get up and go!
Trying to steer a car on snow
Is something I would rather not know
How to do, for it cannot be done
It is all kinds of weird, none of it fun.
If you have ever bowled in a lane,
Let me make this rather plain.
Your car is like a bowling ball.
Traveling into a gutter, down deep and all.
You watch it happen with disbelief
Not a thing you can do, as your day turns to grief.
If you think you can do this, good for you.
But what if we throw solid ice under your shoe?
Do you get in your car and try to drive on ice
Not listening to the radio who is telling you twice
The interstates are closed, the roads are a mess.
Why do you do this? Would you like to confess?
Trying to steer a car on ice, is like trying to steer
A house that is falling from the sky.
How to do it? It cannot be done.
It is all kinds of weird, and none of it fun.
Written 2/08/2019 Contest Feb Week 2, Any Form Any Theme
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Thunder growls in the distance herald storms;
Dark clouds sneaking across sky
They’re up to no good.
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