Depressing Winter Poems | Examples
These Depressing Winter poems are examples of Winter poems about Depressing. These are the best examples of Winter Depressing poems written by international poets.
i don't think i deserve a second chance
you could pull away at my string
unravel me, make me dance
and that would be too much for this stasis of mine
frozen in different snowflakes of time
each bearing memories, asking for tithes
demanding fealty, a bended knee
lest they warrant me another execution
so ill sit, fester, let the salt enter
whilst i try to escape this wasteful brine, all of my own making
my own tithe
A heat wave in Winter does not a smile make.
To be lulled into relaxation would be a mistake.
Don't pray for the rain if you fear the storms.
Gulf heat greets the cold, and the clouds form.
Floods, mudslides, falling trees, and icy roads.
Heavy winds and power outages take their toll.
Nature's four seasons come with depressing mixtures,
to deliver their unique version to all living creatures.
A weatherman was heard saying, "Be prepared but not afraid".
In Summer's smelting heat, our good friends are trees with shade.
In Winter's freezing snow and cold, everything aches and quakes.
I survived six Chicago Winters, but my entire being was prone to shake.
011023PSCtest12 Lines of Rhyme - Winter Nature-Themed Poetry
Contest, Tania Kitchin |4P
The weather around is quite cold sometimes,
The glorious plants are now a frozen sight.
The always angry sea is locked in a frigid bite,
The beautiful sky is now grey, black and white.
The sound of happiness is now pitch silence and cries,
The oh so twinkling stars are now a sight for the sore eyes.
The crackling laughter now comes in a disguise,
Once wise thoughts are now depressing lines,
This always romanticized cold is now my dreadful state of mind.
The ground is brown and depressing here
I go outside and see things I don’t need to see
This has a tendency of bringing a tear
I try to fight it but before I know it I can not see
The are other states that are white and cold
Freshly fallen snow everywhere you go
The beauty is an image that the eyes behold
You don’t want to miss this show
My heart is breaking for some of the states
A cold winter storm came through their scene
They didn’t know what was in for their fates
It wasn’t like it was foreseen
Everything around is now frozen
They have no way of staying warm
This has never been choosen
Not what they know as being the norm
I would like to know where is the help
The people we look to in times like this
The residents look up and say yelp
We will look back and reminisce
If something rhymed with orange I think,
You know another silly poem I'd do
But alas should I waste the ink
Even though orange is my new blue.
Alas the colour orange does make me blue
And with halloween close at hand,
For Donald Trump here thinking through;
Has there ever been a goblin as grand?
Pumpkins and Trump on halloween
And the colour orange to write a rhyme,
Where at his rallies if you've been,
Well, maybe now is the perfect time.
Yes, orange really is my new blue
For to the pumpkin patch I have been
And most depressing it is true,
For his base and him up close I've seen.
Yes, orange really is my new blue
For at his rallies there is little doubt,
These spooky pumpkins all alike it's true,
Have all had their heads hollowed out.
J ust too cold outside for man or beast
A bsolutely freezing in the bedroom at night
N ot interested in building a snowman, thanks
U nwilling to feign interest in 'bobsledding'
A nother gloomy, cheerless day, so depressing
R ead, read, read one's way through the month
Y ear in, year out, it's a pitched battle for survival
(only) January, 2, 2018 (unfortunately)
Here comes the snow again
some people love it, I hate it
I'm more of a Summer kinda guy
it's much too depressing to me
being coped up inside looking
out my frost covered windows
and seeing no sun up in the sky
as the days go by...
But something beautiful touched me
today, deep, deep down in my soul
you called me and said get ready
were gonna take a ride in my jeep
up to lookout mountain, you need to
get out of the house and I'll keep you
warm if you get cold...
We went walking through the woods
playing in the snow but right before
we turned to go I caught something
interesting out of the corner of my eye...
It was a red rose buried deep in the
snow and as if by some kind of magic
spell it was still alive, it was at that
moment I realized, if such a fragile and
beautiful thing can survive the dead
of Winter...well so can I, so can I...
it's now I know it's the little things
that make you happy and glad to
be alive!
The year gets older storms streak the skies I am told age is a quality of the mind,
Do I sit indoors and watch the fog, the dirt, the rain and wind splash on my windows,
So I wonder around indoors in a depressing influence of a winter with its suffering,
Muttering to myself and to others that old age has made me leave my dreams behind me.
Standing by French windows, beaten by tempests, so I shuffle over to an evening fire,
The flowers have gone and longer grass stands among the thickets withered, bleached,
The fern red and shriveled amid the green gorse and broom, even my hope has gone cold,
Plants that waved white umbels to the summer breeze now a skeleton a trophy of death.
The brooks are brimful the rivers turbid covered with masses of foam hurrying along,
Words in my head whisper, if you no longer plan ahead, ambitions dead, you are old,
Our gardens, sad and damp and so desolate their floral splendors are naked and dead,
Decaying leaves have taken the place of verdure and all is gloom and all is silence.
The year gets older storms streak the skies I am told age is a quality of the mind,
Do I sit indoors and watch the fog, the dirt, the rain and wind splash on my windows,
So I wonder around indoors in a depressing influence of a winter with its suffering,
Muttering to myself and to others that old age has made me leave my dreams behind me.
Standing by French windows, beaten by tempests, so I shuffle over to an evening fire,
The flowers have gone and longer grass stands among the thickets withered, bleached,
The fern red and shriveled amid the green gorse and broom, even my hope has gone cold,
Plants that waved white umbels to the summer breeze now a skeleton a trophy of death.
The brooks are brimful the rivers turbid covered with masses of foam hurrying along,
Words in my head whisper, if you no longer plan ahead, ambitions dead, you are old,
Our gardens, sad and damp and so desolate their floral splendors are naked and dead,
Decaying leaves have taken the place of verdure and all is gloom and all is silence.
This cold winter rain makes me lazy.
I miss the warm sunshine of fall.
All I want to do is to rest.
It seems I've no energy at all.
I long for the coming of spring
When my spirit and the earth are reborn.
For the drab winter weather saddens me
And leaves me feeling forlorn.
This season has barely begun
And I'm already wishing it gone.
I miss the clear skies above
And the bird's chatter greeting the dawn.
Winter can be so depressing,
Especially when you're alone.
The rain, the snow and the cold, cold wind
Leaves me feeling weary to the bone.
I count the days till it's over
And the spring arrives at last.
Three more months is a long, long time
To live life with skies overcast.