Winter's Spell
WINTER'S SPELL
Ended, hence, the glorious time of the sun’s lifespan,
The trees were fully clothed, in leaves
Resilient, they had sung merrily
But now, all had gone…
With deserts of sadness …..
What can a ball of cheese do?
Up from the sky…
If it cannot fill the tummy of a poor man...
The Moon covers the Earth down
Looking down at the rows of naked trees
With only a memory of leaves
Nipped by the frost, they want to be freed…
Ended up in the desolate stretches of snow
Eyes begged to see a scrap of light
But what it touched was a bare white Earth
His pale hands overworked
With no snow dogs they grieved...
And his legs were totally numb
With not even a sledge to slide through…
He was the only piece of life…
In the land of the white
With just a star to guide him north
Who put a spell on his fortune?
Who gave him this curse?
He shoved himself through the ice
Bewildered of his unpleasant fate
And at last his eyes found it for him
And far across, from the spells boundary
Stood a welcoming light for him
He ran with all his might
The home emerged larger
Running for food and shelter
He ran and looked through the windows
Marvellously lit decorated
Sat there in an armchair, a woman, old
With shelves of homemade thoughts to dust through
He knocked to get in
Opened it was by the women,
Bewitchingly beautiful, she was
The smile made melt down the things around
And he got in, leaving behind the spell
To live with her forever and ever and ever
That was the end of his fate
And from the windows he looked,
To see the moon smile…
26/09/08
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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Related quotes
The Great Valuable Gift On Christmas Day
“Wow! It’s Christmas, happiness coming
Now for the gift welcoming loving
Then to the church to bow before God
And to the market to buy me a gift
I have the fifty cents all for myself”
Fanny jumped happily, she ran out to shop.
Dancing and skipping she went on her way
Across holy Churches,
Across lit up houses
Across snow laden parks and snowy canals
Gardening, sweating
She had made her money.
“I want a present,
A present I want,
I had a hard time to earn these
Christmas is the best time to forget it all”
She cried out with joy,
To the man in the shop
Beautiful pastries and plum cakes a fresh
Packed up in boxes
She left from the shop
But lo! At the end of the street, she did see
A young dainty lady, holding her child
Sobbing away at the plight so sad
Tired she looked, unhappy too
For her baby was sick and hungry too
Fanny stood still and thought for a while
Then the gift to the child, she smilingly gave
The two of them,
Very grateful now, went on their way to their cold little home
Blessed is the child,
Who gift from the heart
Rest she will ever in the arm of her Lord.
December 2007
(I wrote this for the Christmas celebration December 2007 in my school. And I presented it there)
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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Home Coming
Leaving in the dark
In an accidental day
From the dawn
To the following day
Celebrated winter wedding
Putting on by
Official white dress of
Soft cozy woolen snow
Enjoyed the day having
Made a velvet carpet with fallen snow
Closed windows opened
Opened windows closed
To see the snow bride
Of celebration had
Melting the joy in the eve
Saying good bye
Left winter bride
Returned home
To live with a long time
Fresh and beauty of own
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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The Last Drop
Oh! Where’s it for our crops?
We need the river water drops.
Where’s it for our thirst to clear?
Where are the tears, are they near?
Oh no! It doesn’t fit,
Our little river has become a pit.
Oh! We would lose our corn
Then what would we do just mourn?
Why did she dry?
To make us cry?
She ended hence,
But it doesn’t make sense.
Why did she turn to marsh?
She’s treating us harsh,
She’s playing with our lives,
She’s hurting us sharp as knives.
She made us happy by giving us health.
But by breaking our hearts she suddenly melt
Oh! Feeling is too severe
But is this threatening fair of her?
But what should we do, to accept all these?
No but us, we can’t, come back the drops, please.
How dreadful where’s our hope?
Now we are buried in hell from bottom to top.
2008
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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Graveyard
The eyes of the dark
Which see through the dimly lit full moon
The snowy flakes,
Covers the graveyard which wakes
The cracking of lids
The wooden carved coffins underground
Some opened up,
Horrors stood up, stretched and bent
With all their waiting there came the end
The lonely graveyard,
Now filled with unseen shadows
Approaching hot living blood
The clinking of chains, hanging from hands
The one-eyed pirates, dirty and torn
They were white, outlined black
With fearful groans, this enjoyed pain
So the graveyard awoke
No fiction at all…
Fearful horrors, they waited so long
For the some that needed to be paid
Some which caused their fearful deaths
The shaken up minds, heart broken men,
By spoiling so some lived, closing the gaps
Fury rose up from them, head to foot
What they accepted was beyond dreams
They will kill, let them
If you shield the culprits, you will be next
So they took off, be aware
The eyes of the dark following them
But when would they return?
After those terrible deaths they suffered
The sounds grew louder, when they approached farther
The clinking and groaning still behind them
January 2008
[DECEMBER 26TH 2004.
I KEPT THE HORRIBLE SCENES OF THE TSUNAMI WAVES. WHILE
LEAVING MY HOMETOWN, I SAW WHAT THE SEA DID TO THE BEAUTIFUL SHORE AND TO THE PEOPLE. THE BEAUTIFUL SHORE BECAME A GRAVEYARD THAT DAY. NOT SLEEPING IN PEACE WAS 150 PEOPLE. THE ONES WHO WERE CHEATED BY THE SEA. THE SCENES OF THE BODIES BEING BURNED WAS A HORRIBLE SIGHT. AND I HAVE KEPT THAT ALL MY LIFE AND THIS IS WHAT CAME THROUGH MY WORDS. THE HORRORS SEEKING REVENGE. BUT WHAT TO DO TO NATURE? ? ? ]
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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Winter With a Question
The aging trees will creak and groan
To find themselves ringed by frost in sleep
And snow by the wind already blown
Cast upon snow already deep.
The cold is echoed only by silence all,
And the leaves of Autumn entombed in white
At the place where leaves fall
And passing time, vanish from sight.
Who is it that judges these—
Sends leaves beneath the snow
And trees to shiver alongside trees? —
And where do they go?
poem by Ronny Self
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On the Christmas tree
She flew over the fallen snow,
Looking for the lonely soul,
Maybe it was for me,
I don't know.
I saw her light,
one cold Christmas night,
She flew over the forest,
With tears in her eyes,
She found a place to rest,
In the winter skies,
God looked down from above,
His heart was touched by her love,
He said I hope,
that the world sees.
A angel 's light,
shining though the trees,
It's Christmas time.
And God must smile,
For it's the birth day of His child,
He prays that the world,
will someday find peace.
As His heart finds sweet ease,
With the angel's light,
that He sees,
shining through,
His Christmas trees.
She looked up toward heaven,
with tears in her eyes,
She said.,
Im crying for all who,
doesn't know christ,
For those who are blind,
and need to see,
I shine a light,
on the Christmas tree.
It was a cold winter night,
that chilled to the bone,
When I saw the light,
now the angel is gone,
But I will always remember,
that she let me see,
The light of heaven,
on the Christmas tree.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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Sonnet: Life’s Seasonal Paradox
Queen of the seasons, Spring- Thou could end soon!
When greenness, freshness, melody will cease;
Giving way to the hot summer’s Sun’s noon,
That dries the sheaves of grain rather with ease.
Sultry summer can’t go on forever!
God sends His spell of rain to break thy heat;
And autumn comes in, summer to sever,
As wind blows down fiercely, leaves/nuts to eat.
The sun no more shines brightly as it did,
For winter lays its icy hands on trees;
Snow-capping the mountains like a white-lid;
While stark-naked, leafless trees almost freeze.
But not for long as spring will soon come on!
With joyance, landscape to then green adorn.
poem by John Celes
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Loon Point
Softly the water ripples
Against the canoe's curving side,
Softly the birch trees rustle
Flinging over us branches wide.
Softly the moon glints and glistens
As the water takes and leaves,
Like golden ears of corn
Which fall from loose-bound sheaves,
Or like the snow-white petals
Which drop from an overblown rose,
When Summer ripens to Autumn
And the freighted year must close.
From the shore come the scents of a garden,
And between a gap in the trees
A proud white statue glimmers
In cold, disdainful ease.
The child of a southern people,
The thought of an alien race,
What does she in this pale, northern garden,
How reconcile it with her grace?
But the moon in her wayward beauty
Is ever and always the same,
As lovely as when upon Latmos
She watched till Endymion came.
Through the water the moon writes her legends
In light, on the smooth, wet sand;
They endure for a moment, and vanish,
And no one may understand.
All round us the secret of Nature
Is telling itself to our sight,
We may guess at her meaning but never
Can know the full mystery of night.
But her power of enchantment is on us,
We bow to the spell which she weaves,
Made up of the murmur of waves
And the manifold whisper of leaves.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Unexpected
Dim looked the stars then disappeared
Behind the clouds pale moon appeared.
Like a damsel after a shower,
Combed hair on face lower.
The clouds passed the sky cleared,
The stars and moon again appeared.
As fairy moving away her hair,
Her face appeared so clean and fair.
Things looked calm the night waning,
The clouds gathered anew the planning.
A shawl the sky wore again,
The bitter breeze again began.
On chest of earth fell flakes of snow,
No dawn joy, no life's flow.
The trees and roofs were clothed in white,
Thus harsh became a pleasant night.
poem by Jahan zaib
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Now is The Winter With Trees Stripped Naked
Now is the winter with trees naked
when there is cold and sifting rain,
stripped bare without leaves
and then you first come past and then to me
like a sun rising over the horizon
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad
and your company is full of fun
in bands of gathering fog.
Now is the winter with trees naked
cutting off every ray and light
and I know our time is only borrowed,
like a sun rising over the horizon
but stopping the rays in this winter,
in a cold world without hope or pity,
stripped bare without leaves
where you shake out your hair like a dog does with rain,
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I know our time is only borrowed
but your are glorious like a poster
and for long moments time is missing.
Now is the winter with trees naked
with bliss descending between us
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I see your beauty
our passion goes to practical reality,
stripped bare without leaves
we shine like the world outside in vulnerability like rainbows,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
pretty, pure and untouched
in moments of ecstasy without fatigue.
Now is the winter with trees naked
stripped bare without leaves
and I am totally lost in you.
and then you first come past and then to me,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The magic of snow
Snowflakes dance like white fairies of old
Each one a treasure to behold
Far more precious than spectrums of stone
For stones, anytime, the rich can easily own
The white season only enchants us a few months a year
The fairies, by magic, soon disappear
God, not man, decides whom these riches bestow
The rich of spirit know the value of silvery sheets of snow
Children charmed by snow's shimmering spell
Gaze at a snowman sculptured by winter's richest girl
Whose love moulded beauty into perfection
And whose childish joy shines from every section
Like a perishing goddess, winter's wind begins to sing
The purity of winter must mature to spring
From the snowman, molten light trickles into a stream
Before the children's eyes, vanishing into a dream
Why are their eyes shining with regret and pain?
Winter will return to cast its spell again
When their white season ends, they should then lament
For that treasure's lost forever, once it is spent
poem by Laura Greene
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Winter's Fingers
I’m looking out of the window,
watching the rain turn to snow,
the land is running from winter’s grasp,
but naked trees mean autumn’s past.
Trees’ bony fingers reach for the sky,
but the pale grey sky is a little shy,
and will not answer their call,
no matter how big or how tall.
But the clouds do speak and answer,
with snow, the subtle breeze dancer,
and the snows’ frisky little caper,
covers the land and blankets nature.
The land is under a white membrane,
but on my side of the window frame,
all is cosy with the fire ablaze,
my window is now a frosty glaze.
poem by Dale Mullock
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Stars
How countlessly they congregate
O'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!--
As if with keenness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,--
And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.
poem by Robert Frost
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Moon, Moon, Crazy Moon
moon, moon, crazy moon
natural moon
torn apart and snoozing moon;
lovely moon, romantic moon
poor poor moon
the romance
plucked out of its drab surface;
moon moon going wild
moon moon running away
from the earth -
O moon, why do you run away from the earth?
does earth touch you in the wrong places
and you've got no Body
to which one could lodge
a complaint about sexual harassment? ?
ah, moon moon, temperamental moon
dark moon
glowing moon;
sexy moon
and old-woman hag of a moon;
moon moon with the best views of the earth
moon moon moon
puts me to sleep and wakes me up
in the middle of nights;
and one day we'll sleep in the moon
and produce babies there
and we'll have the first moon-ish boys and girls
and moon-ly families;
but meanwhile
moon moon driving fanatics
and inspiring love and romance and myths
moon moon eerie moon
moon moon that presides over love and horrors
and evil and good
and naked witches dancing in moonlit groves;
pooor moon moon the earth moon
not as interesting and dramatic as other moons;
don't get too friendly and dropp in -
oh, never dropp in, no one invited you
silly mooonn, no no, you're not invited home to earth
moon moon cheese moon eaten by mice;
but still our dear moon darling moon
moon mooon
our very own earth's moon
as we moo moo like cows
moo moo moo mooo
at our own moon moon moon
poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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A Winter Landscape
All night, all day, in dizzy, downward flight,
Fell the wild-whirling, vague, chaotic snow,
Till every landmark of the earth below,
Trees, moorlands, roads, and each familiar sight
Were blotted out by the bewildering white.
And winds, now shrieking loud, now whimpering low,
Seemed lamentations for the world-old woe
That death must swallow life, and darkness light.
But all at once the rack was blown away,
The snowstorm hushing ended in a sigh;
Then like a flame the crescent moon on high
Leaped forth among the planets; pure as they,
Earth vied in whiteness with the Milky Way:
Herself a star beneath the starry sky.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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The Ingrate
By night we looked across my field,
The tasseled corn was fine to see,
The moon was yellow on the rows
And seemed so wonderful to me,
That with an old provincial pride
I praised my moonlit Tennessee,
And thought my poor befriended man
Would never dare to disagree.
He was a frosty Russian man
And wore a bushy Russian beard;
He had two furtive faded eyes
That some old horror once had seared;
I wondered if they ever would
Forget the horrors they had feared;
Yet when I praised my pleasant field
This stupid fellow almost jeered.
'Your moon shines very well, my friend,
Your fields are good enough, I know;
At home our fields in the winter-time
Were always white, and shining so!
Our nights went beautiful like day,
And bitter cold our winds would blow;
And I remember how it looked,
Dear God, my country of the snow!'
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Wintertime
Snow falling on the ground,
Little white flakes to be found.
Lift your head to the sky,
And watch the snow zippin’ by.
Cold wind at your back,
Nothing winter seems to lack.
A blanket of snow covers the Trees,
Winter can’t end. No please!
Can’t Jack Frost do his Job?
For a little longer, don’t make me sob.
Can’t I stay in this Wonderland?
I don’t want to return to golden sand.
But under the layer of cold, white snow,
Lies little seedlings ready to show.
I must say a grateful farewell,
To winter fun, for it was swell.
And say hello to summer sweat,
Instead of getting cold, we get wet.
Hello Spring! Hello Summer!
Goodbye Fall! Goodbye Winter!
The New Moon
What have you got in your knapsack fair,
White moon, bright moon, pearling the air,
Spinning your bobbins and fabrics free,
Fleet moon, sweet moon, in to the sea?
Turquoise and beryl and rings of gold,
Clear moon, dear moon, ne’er to be sold?
Roses and lilies, romance and love,
Still moon, chill moon, swinging above?
Slender your feet as a white birds throat,
High moon, shy moon, drifting your boat
Into the murk of the world awhile,
Slim moon, dim moon, adding a smile.
Tender your eyes as a maiden’s kiss,
Fine moon, wine moon, no one knows this,
Under the spell of your witchery,
Dream moon, cream moon, first he kissed me.
poem by Zora Bernice May Cross
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