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January Morn
Bare branches of each tree
on this chilly January morn
look so cold so forlorn.
Gray skies dip ever so low
left from yesterday's dusting of snow.
Yet in the heart of each tree
waiting for each who wait to see
new life as warm sun and breeze will blow,
like magic, unlock springs sap to flow,
buds, new leaves, then blooms will grow. Like heart and soul in every man
who let their light grow ever dim
a spark still burns low within
longing to burst forth, to shine again.
Like bare branches on a January morn
don't feel cold don't feel forlorn.
Our Heavenly Father like warm spring sun
like gentle warm wind
when called upon
will make each light burn bright again.
poem by Nelda Hartman
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June In January
When in January it’s June,
in March it will be August, hot
and clammy while I swoon
within your arms, if I am not
mistaken about climate change
that is inevitable when
the summer months within my range
make me perspire once again,
and long for January that’s cold,
when I feel comfortable within
your arms, not feeble, frazzled, old,
and ready to embark on sin,
without the need for air condit-
ioning that I associate with June.
That’s why in wintertime I wish
that January will not leave soon,
but when it does it should be May,
my favorite month when birds do sing,
accompanying my love each day
with joy while you make my heart spring.
Inspired by “It’s June in January, ” a song associated with Bing Crosby, written by Ralph Rainger and Leon Robin:
A clouded moon creeps across the clouded sky
Winds of January sigh and moan
And yet it's June.
I can see a sky of blue
Dear the miracle is due to you.
Just you.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
It always is spring in my heart
with you in my arms.
The snow is just white blossoms
that fall from above.
And here is the reason, my dear,
Your magical charms.
The night is cold
The trees are bare
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love.
But only because I'm in love with you.
Oh the night is cold!
Won't it be to bear?
But I can feel the scent of roses in the air.
It's June in January
Because I'm in love
`1/23/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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In January In Duhallow
The cold winds of January from the north east does blow
And the weather is cold quite cold enough for to snow
And the hungry birds silent on the naked hedgerow
In the flat and rushy fields where the Blackwater flow.
January in Duhallow from here far away
In the chill of the morning the frost bound fields gray
In the farmyard sheds cattle bellow for silage or hay
Where the sun seldom shines on a January day.
The distinctive harsh caws of the silver backed crow
In the Season where grass does refuse for to grow
And few cars on the roadway that leads to the town
Near where the river flows bank high in flood waters of brown.
In January in Duhallow the old fields looking bare
With the harsh chill of Winter in the cold Morning air
And at least eight long weeks till the first breath of Spring
When Nature will bloom and her wild birds will sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Get Goin
It's a real cold Mornin
And I find it hard to get Goin
I left my warm, Snug, Bed
Must be out of My Head
I hope it was not a Mistake
But once, I'm up and Awake
It's a beautiful January Day
And I am finding it very OK!
I've worked all Day
Played half the Nigh
Find myself at Home
Zipped up Tight
In my Bed as I Lay
Tomorrow is another Day
Now I am, Snug and Warm
But in the Mornin I'll have to Perform
poem by David Darbyshire
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Tis Cold In Aubane
From the news by Mushera from here far away
'Tis cold in Aubane very cold there today
Low cloud over the high fields in fog cold and gray
And cattle in farm-sheds are bellowing for silage or hay
On the high and snow covered narrow road from Rylane to Millstreet Town
Few trucks, cars or buses do pass up and down
When the cold winds of January from Mushera do blow
And the high fields by the mountain are covered in snow
On the farmers of Aubane January weather is hard
When the migrant redwing thrushes are in the farmyard
And by backdoor sparrows, robins and blackbirds pecking crumbs of bread
With many weeks of severe weather ahead
And each breath you exhale it is gray in the wintery chill
In January in Aubane by Mushera Hill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Cold Winds Of January
Last night in my dreams i did hear the winds roar
Above the old high fields of far Claramore
A cold Winter moon crept behind clouds to hide
And on the bleak hillside the hungry fox cried
And a bird so distinctive even in his wild cry
The screech of the barn owl echoed in the sky
A Winter's night in January by old Clara hill
The howling of the wind drowned out the babble of the rill
That towards the big river downland ever does flow
Through many a field and by many a hedgerow
Old jack frost of January is in the cold air
And the hedgerows and deciduous trees of their foliage are bare
And the cold winds of January in the dead of night roar
Above the old bare fields of high Claramore.
poem by Francis Duggan
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January Warmth
The leaves are whirling in the wind
Clouds a stirring
What a warm January day.
The squirrels have come out to play
Running and scurrying all the way.
The sun is hiding somewhere
Somewhere way up high
The warmth of a January Day
Warms the heart in everyway
Trees in motion swaying and
Swooping with a notion.
poem by Melanie Dickie
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My History Teacher
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
I sewed my heart up one little stich at a time
One shotty job done, it is true, but I
couldn't do it by myself, you coulda done the rest
But you went and ripped it right outta my chest
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
I wasn't even finished
I needed more thread
I got distracted by the
'Good' ideas you put in my head
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
You remind me of my delicate past
You remind me I'm good for nothing
You tell me that you love me[lies]
And remind me I wont be anything
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
You make me remeber what I've done
Because you make me remember I have no friends
You make me remeber It's all my fault
For making my happiness end
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
poem by Gabriella Franco
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In January
i could walk carefree
in tokyo streets and lanes
in october, november and early december
in my T-Shirt treating it as spring but not january
when the temperature would suddenly take a dip
like an olympic swimmer with fiery ambition
plunging into the pool
the chill bites into the most sensitive parts
near the chest, setting the bodice trembling,
teeth hitting each other the way dad shunts his soroban beads
shaking like the winter breeze on and off, on and off
throughout the lanes and streets
laughters, songs trail the ears
on and off, on and off as the izakaya door
opens to either welcome or sends off some customers
the cold and loneliness of the streets
make these drinking houses
feel like a happy family where children and parents
crowd together for their nightly fun
january in tokyo could either be warm or cold
for lovers to cling closer to each other in their walk
for tired managers to go for atsukan to warm up their nerves
for the homeless, everything feels so colder than they should be
their hearts take a dip each time they hear laughter and songs
from the izakaya
inspired by
In January
Only one cell in the frozen hive of night
is lit, or so it seems to us:
this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,
its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers.
Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks.
Beyond the glass, the wintry city
creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.
A great wind rushes under all of us.
The bigger the window, the more it trembles.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Morning Sky
The morning sky
was one of those
cold January mornings
with redness
up there
amongst
the off white clouds
and she said
I dreamt of you last night
And you came into my room
and into my warm bed
and even my sister
didn't know
you were there
and you said
I dreamt
of Marilyn Monroe
and entered
into her room
and tried to get
into her bed
but I didn’t want
to disturb her sleep
so just sat
and watched her
like studying some
fine work of art
then I woke up
to a cold morning
and she said
you were better off
in my dream
where we kissed
and cuddled
but then
my sister woke me
and you disappeared
into the cold morning air
and you said
yes I remember
I dreamt
of being there.
poem by Terry Collett
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The First Of 08
The first day of 08 a warm and a humid day
And weeks of weather such as this on the way
A furnace like breath in the afternoon breeze
In a forecast high of 39 degrees
From the constant heat their only form of ease
The sheep congregate in the shade of the trees
The renowned chirpers house sparrows the only birds one does hear
On the first day of January in the Southern New Year
In towns and in cities from here near and far away
The revellers of last night are hung over today
A cool change is coming in the forecast we do hear
As to the prime of Summer we are drawing ever near
The first day of January and so warm is the sun
And another New Year has already begun.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Back There In Old Duhallow The Frosty Fields Are Gray
Back there in old Duhallow the frosty fields are gray
And the wildborn birds are silent at the dawning of the day
And the chilly winds of January sough in the naked trees
And ice is on the dark pond from the hard overnight freeze
In January in Duhallow the hedgerows looking bare
And in the rushy field by the river the shy and elusive hare
In the greyness of his surroundings quite visible in his coat of brown
For to warm the coldness in his bones through the rushes racing up and down
From the fields of old Duhallow the Spring seems far away
And the cattle in the farm-yard shed are bellowing for hay
And hungry birds by the back door squabble over crusts of bread
And before the warmth of Spring weeks of cold weather ahead
And the chirping house sparrows in the back-yard the only birds one does hear
Back there in old Duhallow tis a cold time of the year.
poem by Francis Duggan
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January rains, as i remember
January rains fall in all the green ricefields
The carabaos graze the little brown children run and play
The rainbow comes like the Gumamelas in multicolors
In her little garden in her little house
Where the little people just have a little talk
Then with little cups of coffee to keep their little tongues warm
The rains of
January slowly fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Oh! January Harmattan.
Oh! January harmattan,
You arrive so fast
Sweeping us off our feet;
Though we expect your arrival
We never wished for this degree of dryness!
You arrive with drywind and cold
This cold leaves us dull and never bold,
You dry up every fresh leaves
Hence, the green fields turns brown!
Oh! January harmattan,
'Tis true that some may dread you;
Yet, you bring forth dryness,
Oftentimes, making the season worthwhile
Sometimes in the day, or at night;
We feel your cold breeze caressing our skin,
Thou leavest our lips and skin so dry
Just like the sands in the desert
Yet! , thou art the joy of many.
poem by Echezonachukwu Nduka
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Warm and Flowering
Why so cold?
This heart is warm.
My heart is warm I say.
I say, look at these flowers, all for you.
Flowers for me too.
It's my nature.
I want what the warm heart wants. I want you.
You want warmth too, don't you dear?
I want you to be warm,
and flowering.
If not, I'll still be warm.
And if life is cold, remember,
this heart is warm and flowering.
poem by Meli Secret
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Warmth Again
Icy heart
Warm heart.
The icy-hearted person feels nothing,
The warm-hearted person feels too much.
And most of the time, that person doesn't want to feel anymore.
I've an ice-cold heart, but I'm warm-hearted.
Why do I feel so cold?
I'm fifteen years old, but I feel like an old lady.
Why do I feel so old?
Cold heart,
Old heart,
Why can't I feel warm again?
Cold heart,
Old heart,
Why can't someone warm me up again?
Fifteen.
Back problems, foot problems, heart problems and more!
Asthma problems, leg problems, chest pain galore!
Help me out of this wreck of a body, kind sir...
Help me out of this wreck of a body, kind
Sir!
I'm fifteen years old, but I feel like an old lady.
Why do I feel so old?
Cold heart,
Old heart,
Why can't I feel young again?
Cold heart,
Old heart,
Can you make me feel myself again?
Dear Great One, please help me
Down here on Earth, sitting here I wait
to feel like myself again.
I've an ice-cold heart, but I'm warm-hearted.
Why do I feel so cold?
I'm fifteen years old, but I feel like an old lady.
Why do I feel so old?
Cold heart,
Old heart,
Why can't I feel warm again?
Why can't I feel young again?
Cold heart,
Old heart,
Why can't someone warm me up again?
Can you make me myself again?
Maybe someday...I'll feel myself again.
poem by Raven Lightner
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Cheery Year
January is too soon here
A damp and cold start to the year
February follows on
With snow and ice that’s seldom gone
March appears next in line
And down comes rain all the time
April showers now are due
Lasting the whole month through
May and showers still persist
Bringing frost and fog and mist
June gets hot, insanely so
Everyone’s red and aglow
July bring chills mixed with hot
You’re never sure just what you’ve got
August the sun is up and bold
But the wind still keeps it cold
September the drizzle and ice is back
Keeping up a relentless attack
October’s colder so I hide
With a hot drink and stay inside
November sees your breath in the air
And colds and sneezes everywhere
December’s cold but brings some cheer
Then bloody January’s here
poem by Flying Lemming
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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 221
January is too soon here
A damp and cold start to the year
February follows on
With snow and ice that’s seldom gone
March appears next in line
And down comes rain all the time
April showers now are due
Lasting the whole month through
May and showers still persist
Bringing frost and fog and mist
June gets hot, insanely so
Everyone’s red and aglow
July bring chills mixed with hot
You’re never sure just what you’ve got
August the sun is up and bold
But the wind still keeps it cold
September the drizzle and ice is back
Keeping up a relentless attack
October’s colder so I hide
With a hot drink and stay inside
November sees your breath in the air
And colds and sneezes everywhere
December’s cold but brings some cheer
Then bloody January’s here
poem by Flying Lemming
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Ballad Of January
January
Is
A new month
A new start for me
To learn new things
To learn to let go of my anger
And open up my heart
And to listen to what my heart
Is saying
It is waking up
From a long painful journey
Of last summer
I love you all the time
Sunsets
January
Thanks god you are mild
Because I hate the cold
poem by Aldo Kraas
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I Will Be Grateful For This Day
I will be grateful for this day that God gave me
That is full of sunshine during this winter day that is cold at the same Time
But I wished that God would take the cold back with him and leave me with the warm weather
But maybe it will be too hot when he brings the warm weather
So I will have to live with the cold weather for now
poem by Aldo Kraas
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