stern white owl at watch
winter sky polished cobalt
snowy magistrate
Nothing could be heard
Prepared for bed all alone
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
Give silver chalice a rub
Conjuring commitment stone
Nothing could be heard
Curiosity invades
Throwing a bone
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
Winter cold soon will arrive
Mumbling a grumbling groan
Nothing could be heard
Outside a crispy leaf drop
Destination known
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
Future cannot stop
Google AI on the cell phone
Nothing could be heard
Reflective mirror thoughts occupy the mind
Autumn, the season of mellow mist
takes over the reins of summer,
washing August dust with September rains,
revealing a palette no other seasons match.
Leaves on trees riot from green to rich rusty hues,
Colour creeps into the garden once more.
Pink rose and blue clematis peek over walls at
the carpet of sedum, cyclamen, violets and pansies
with varied shades of red, white and blues.
In the garden of Wonderland, Alice’s gardeners
are busy painting the pretty peonies, poinsettias,
carnations and Hemerocallis Daylily Autumn Red.
Multicoloured hollyhocks, carnations and cosmos dance
with dahlias and weigelas with the melodious wind.
Red hot pokers, gladioli, and digitalis point
brightly manicured fingers at the celebration of
Chinese lanterns; whilst flowering forsythias and
moon-faced sun flowers look on with yellowed envy.
The garden is a riotous rhapsody of colour.
Thus, nature celebrates the season with buddleias
and feathery asters inviting bees and butterflies
with a feeling that warm days will never cease.
Until November creeps in and the disheartened flowers,
stripped of petals, wilt and shiver into winter’s lap.
Our outhouse was attached to the rear of our home.
In times of foul weather, negating any need to roam.
It was all about convenience. Never heated,
permanently air conditioned, and two seated.
It was one of the best and quiet thinking spots.
Because the door lacked a lock or handle slots,
there were occasions when interruptions occurred,
encouraging one to butt out of there inured.
Winter weather could be nasty and cold,
causing meditations to be short, thus quickly unload.
Summer was warm with breezy invasions,
entertaining lingering and tingling sensations.
There was never a need to waste water and flush.
Spreading lime was used to keep nasty fly's from us.
Outside and behind was a sliding door,
Where once a year I was 'encouraged' to explore
and clean our outhouse with pail, rake, and shovel.
A chore that trained me to write poetry and grovel.
Moonlit branch bends light,
sparrows stitch the silent dark,
crisp air holds its breath.
Night gathers their small shadows,
like notes waiting for a song.
Now it is finally the time
To say arrivederci Winter
It was indeed a long Winter
I was already getting sick
Of the Winter
That never seem to ended
Now finally my Father
Brought the Spring today
Also my Father brought back
Home the birds that I was missing
For a long time now
At night time I live the windows
Open so it can cool my house
Because I have no air conditioningTime & Calendars
And I been living in my
House
For a long time now
Also I love the area I live
In
The birds wake me up
With their song first thing
In the morning
I am already used to that
Now it is finally the time
To say arrivederci Winter
It was indeed a long Winter
I was already getting sick
Of the Winter
That never seem to ended
Now finally my Father
Brought the Spring today
Also my Father brought back
Home the birds that I was missing
For a long time now
At night time I live the windows
Open so it can cool my house
Because I have no air conditioning
And I been living in my
House
For a long time now
Also I love the area I live
In
The birds wake me up
With their song first thing
In the morning
I am already used to that
"All access beyond this point
Is now discouraged".
As sternly, dourly upheld
By its ice-cold will
That, iron gated, confines
All that's skin and bone
For graveyard's place, spooky-sombre
Wailed back through. Nerves chill.
The static hums across the floor,
A heavy sound behind the door.
The city sleeps in quiet grey,
Before the breaking of the day.
An engine turns, a pulse takes hold,
A warmth that cuts through winter’s cold.
The shadows stretch, then yield to light,
And wash away the weight of night.
Something shifts beneath the stone,
A quiet force, yet fully grown.
Standing tall against the air,
A brand new dawn begins right there.
The kingdom of summer passes swiftly on the breeze,
Few golden days to mortal heads are bequeathed
Aye, there is beauty in the bronze upon the bough,
But swiftly it will fade to a dull and lifeless hue.
For the kiss of the sun fades with the dawn's biting chill,
The leaves cascade, without want or will.
If only outstretched hand and a voice heavy with command
Could cling to summer's mane and bid the season stand.
But one cannot hold back the turning tide of the season,
No matter the strength of desire or reason.
So we must retreat and stoke the fire,
And await the return of all we desire.
For green paradise shall return in due time,
And the kingdom of summer shall once again reign divine.
A winter has come into our forest
I have no idea exactly how long
I was merely a long-lost tourist
And now I see of all our leaves are gone.
Nothing damages more than a hard frost
The landscape lay injured and strained
All of the critters are scattered and lost
A sad reminder of all of the pain.
The Winter was here longer than I know
Ravaging more than I could foretell
Above my knees in the freezing snow
Stuck in the sad foliage of farewell.
I take a plow and push through the past.
Bury the blade into our history.
I pick through ice for a mere blade of grass
Any sign of life spells my victory.
I come upon the knotted root of the oak
A fork left on a meal of an empty plate.
The tears from my eyes beginning to soak
The jagged legs that mark my mistakes.
Roots are strong and full of wisdom
They are churned inside the earth so deep
Between these toes is quite the schism
Loud enough to wake me from my sleep.
The branches lurch toward Heaven so high
The stark, black fingers reach towards the Sun
I pray that Spring comes back into our lives
That we can return where we once begun.
IN THE DOWNING OF SPRING
Autumn will soon fall;
Paving the way for winter’s
Cold nature of life:
Time for us to prepare for
Life’s cold-coming-challenges:-
Bright Autumn colors fly.
Gold, purple, red, and orange leaves float all around.
Fill the sky
Bare branches wave
Boots crunching leaves on the cold ground.
Be brave
Cold night
Will soon be found
white
Bright Autumn colors fly.
Boots crunching leaves on the cold ground.
white
a silver feather drifts across the mirror of winter dawn,
its quiet gleam widening wonder in the pale light,
as frost-soft air carries what you almost remember,
and the day opens gently around that drifting shine.
The winter storm rolled in with iron skies,
yet through its roar a pulse of hope stayed bright.
Green leaves, long fallen, seemed again to rise
as wind revived their memory in flight.
I held my life like currency in hand~
each choice a coin I’d saved against the cold.
The storm swept through, reshaping what I planned,
yet left behind a worth I’d never told.
Snow hammered fields, but still a faint green glow
clung to the edges where the frost gave way.
It whispered that the heart can overflow
even when storms turn daylight into gray.
And so, through winter’s rage, I learned to see
how hope can rise—my richest currency.
Winter Categories
Read wonderful winter poetry on the following sub-topics:
acrostic, classic, children, depressing, funny, haiku, holiday, kids, love, rhyme, season, solstice
and more.
Definition | What is Winter in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
snow, cold, frost, chill, jack frost, december, january, wintertime, wintertide, winter wonderland, christmas, yuletide