The Color Of Snow
For David Karetsky (April 14, 1940-March 12, 1991) , killed in an avalanche
Putting the skis down
in the white snow,
the wind singing,
the blizzard of time
going past your eyes,
it is a little
like being snowed in
in the Connecticut house
on a day when the world
goes away
and only the white dog
follows you out
to make fresh tracks
in the long blue shadow
of the mountain.
We are all halfway there,
preferring not
to think about it.
You went down the mountain
first,
in a blaze of light,
reminding us
to seize our lives,
to live with the wind
whistling in our ears,
and the light bedazzling
the tips of our skis
and the people we love
waiting in the lodge below
scribbling lines
on paper the color
of snow,
knowing there is no
holding on
but only the wind singing
and these lines of light
shining
in the fresh snow.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
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Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For an Earth-Landing
the sky sinks its blue teeth
into the mountains.
Rising on pure will
(the lurch & lift-off,
the sudden swing
into wide, white snow),
I encourage the cable.
Past the wind
& crossed tips of my skis
& the mauve shadows of pines
& the spoor of bears
& deer,
I speak to my fear,
rising, riding,
finding myself
the only thing
between snow & sky,
the link
that holds it all together.
Halfway up the wire,
we stop,
slide back a little
(a whirr of pulleys).
Astronauts circle above us today
in the television blue of space.
But the thin withers of alps
are waiting to take us too,
& this might be the moon!
We move!
Friends, this is a toy
merely for reaching mountains
merely
for skiing down.
& now we're dangling
like charms on the same bracelet
or upsidedown tightrope people
(a colossal circus!)
or absurd winged walkers,
angels in animal fur,
with mittened hands waving
& fear turning
& the mountain
like a fisherman,
reeling us all in.
So we land
on the windy peak,
touch skis to snow,
are married to our purple shadows,
& ski back down
to the unimaginable valley
leaving no footprints.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tracks In The Snow
Like tracks in the snow our actions follow
Throughout our life, no matter where we go.
No matter which direction the wind may blow,
Tracks are always there imprinted in the snow.
Never covered; the pain of sins long past,
Mistakes in life follow like tracks in snow.
Looking behind the tracks winding too and fro,
Losing the light; in the gently falling snow.
poem by Derrick Fernie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting For the Snow
Waiting for the Snow
When the leaves turn golden
And the geese fly south
Where will I be?
When the wind turns cold
And the bear is in hiding
Where will I be?
When the streams are frozen
And the rabbits’ color turning
Where will I be?
When the leaves begin to fall
And the northern cardinals stay
Where will I be?
When the nuts fall down
And squirrels store walnuts
Where will I be?
When the corn is harvested
And the deer seek shelter
Where will I be?
When the grass is brown
And the pheasants are flying
Where will I be?
I will be riding before the wind
And winging t’ward the sun
Flying from the snow
I will be waiting for spring
And sleeping till then
Hiding from the snow
I will be hiding till I’m white
And searching the ground for food
Waiting for the snow
I will be looking for berries
And singing merrily
Waiting for the snow
I will be saving acorns
And jumping form tree to tree
Waiting for the snow
I will be searching fields for corn
And hiding in thickets
Waiting for the snow
I will be hiding under grass
And calling out loud
Waiting for the snow
Drift Glow
Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of bright sky heaven fresh
Mighty in its blue
Into going and renew
Drift glow
White as snow
I hear the birds singing
Outside - in a tree
Wonderful tones bringing
Up and down the scale free
Love songs for their nest
And hope to come and see
When with young it's blessed
And cared for compassionately
Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of space and clear enmesh
Something to come here through
When tomorrow is up to do
Drift glow
White as snow
In with its many days singing
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drift Glow (from, MySpace)
Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of bright sky heaven fresh
Mighty in its blue
Into going and renew
Drift glow
White as snow
I hear the birds singing
Outside - in a tree
Wonderful tones bringing
Up and down the scale free
Love songs for their nest
And hope to come and see
When with young it's blessed
And cared for compassionately
Drift glow
Drift glow
As white as snow
Into the openness
Of space and clear enmesh
Something to come here through
When tomorrow is up to do
Drift glow
White as snow
In with its many days singing
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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day dreaming while skiing XD
the wind blows in the snow
like a sea but with its own flow
the sun is rising
the clouds are crying
not rain, not flakes of snow
more like leafs of snow
when it lands it stays like seaweed: straight
they dance with the wind like a first date
when your skis embrace
this dance, you feel like floating in space
nothing can pull you back down
like weed you have left the ground
you're flying way high in the sky
till one day... you die
poem by Nicolas Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow Like Horses
The world is filling up with snow.
Blowing and sticking
To everything
And hoofprints appear
Pounding the ground hard and icy
Howling wind
Like whinnying horses
Tossing their heads
Snow like hair
Grooming
Snow like hair like Kelly
The world is filling up with snow
And her eyes are my light
When even she can't see
She is a rock
No one can weather
Bigger
Stronger
Protection
Go ne.
And the world went white with snow.
poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skiing
Why is it I can't ski?
When all that my instructor keeps saying is ‘benz za knees'
I ‘benz za knees' I hold my poles
Hoping this will help me go faster and not slow
Now the only thing that worries me that I know
Are my skis do not go where I want them to go
My knees are bent, I'm in the groove
I try to turn but the skis don't move
As I hold my breath I imagine what happens next
Either I go round this bend or crash and break my neck
Somehow I make it with just a snow flake to spare
Now I can breathe again - the fresh mountain air
But no sooner had I drawn my breath and unclenched my teeth
I notice my skis are far too wide underneath
With my eyes bouncing up and down like demented fleas
I try to focus but my mind feels as though it has turned to cheese
It's not looking good I must say
Compared to this morning I thought it'll turn out to be a perfect day
Not so - and here it must end
Did I make it or go straight and miss the bend?
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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When The Snow Comes Down In Tinseltown
Dear Santa,
I live in Hollywood
But it's not like in the movies
Where Christmas is always snowy white
On my list is just one wish
That it would snow tonight
Oh when the snow comes down
Oh in Tinseltown
On Christmas Eve you will believe
When The Snow Comes Down In Tinseltown
You close your eyes
And to your surprise
You see the reindeer fly
As choir's singing
Fa la la la la
Go walking by
You're singing and a ringing right along
With the church bells in the air
It seems so real
That you can feel
The snowflakes in your hair
Oh when the snow comes down
Oh in Tinseltown
On Christmas Eve you will believe
When The Snow Comes Down In Tinseltown
In the morning
When you awake
Your face all shining bright
And when you look outside
You see the palm trees
Dressed in white
Oh when the snow comes down
Oh in Tinseltown
On Christmas Eve you will believe
When The Snow Comes Down In Tinseltown
Dear Santa,
Thank you
Thankyou for that perfect Christmas Day
Gliding down the streets of Hollywood
In a one horse open sleigh
Oh when the snow comes down
Oh in Tinseltown
On Christmas Eve you will believe
When The Snow Comes Down In Tinseltown
x4
song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grey Mist Of A Healing Frost
Our tree has frozen in the snow,
its branches are now burdened low,
The waters let their corpses fall,
freezing and burying all.
Like a fog the snow rolls in,
birds fly through as the blizzard begins,
a sea of white covering the land,
proclaiming the King of winter grand.
The heavenly snow is our Delight,
and fills our world with resonating light,
with peaceful Silence floating in the wind,
healing our tree that has been skinned.
poem by Soren Valentine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent As Snow Falling To The Ground
Silent as snow falling to the ground
The speckled air abound
As whiteness cover all
First snow of the season
Tracks of white tail rabbits,
Squirrel in the sycamore
Shadow of the chain linked fence
Quietness sits by the door.
A poet’s pen to paper
To comprehend
What is piling deep in the cold
He mark this singular passing
This silent thing of its own doing
The wind blows a snow song
Without words or instruments
A song for the eyes and what pretends
To be the soul
And I twirl around and flair my arms
To sing along.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sestina: Here in Katmandu
We have climbed the mountain.
There's nothing more to do.
It is terrible to come down
To the valley
Where, amidst many flowers,
One thinks of snow,
As formerly, amidst snow,
Climbing the mountain,
One thought of flowers,
Tremulous, ruddy with dew,
In the valley.
One caught their scent coming down.
It is difficult to adjust, once down,
To the absense of snow.
Clear days, from the valley,
One looks up at the mountain.
What else is there to do?
Prayer wheels, flowers!
Let the flowers
Fade, the prayer wheels run down.
What have they to do
With us who have stood atop the snow
Atop the mountain,
Flags seen from the valley?
It might be possible to live in the valley,
To bury oneself among flowers,
If one could forget the mountain,
How, never once looking down,
Stiff, blinded with snow,
One knew what to do.
Meanwhile it is not easy here in Katmandu,
Especially when to the valley
That wind which means snow
Elsewhere, but here means flowers,
Comes down,
As soon it must, from the mountain.
poem by Donald Justice
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Snow in April
If you must slight me, let it be the touch
That snow in April, falling soft and white
Gives to the blossoms delicate and light,
So I don’t suffer, it won’t harm me much.
If you must spite me, let it be as quick
As snow in April falling, not to last.
Lies just one moment then, like mist is past,
So it won’t sting me; I won’t feel the prick.
If you must fight me, let the tender blows
Like snow in April, make no lasting mark
As soft, spring sunshine, on the grassy park,
Brings green renewal. But yet April snows
Can still surprise me, stir me from my rest
For snow is April’s chill, unwelcome guest.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Winters Day
Winter,
the cold freezes my thoughts,
freezes my feelings
the wind bites at my face
the snow falls almost as if its in slow motion,
as if im in slow motion
time seems none exsistant
color fades to white
sound becomes silence
the light casts over the snow which glistens like diamonds
color is covered with white
sound becomes silence
the light casts over the snow which glistens like diamonds
There's a cold breeze in my face
I feel the winter come with its peace
The beauty is hard to imagine
But winter is a sight to see
poem by Aaron Mac Lean
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Snow Dancing
Frozen ground, frozen ponds,
Overgrown fields awaiting spring.
Snow dancing across the roads,
Snow too cold to melt
when it hits the ground.
To light to stay down,
blowing every which way.
Cars pass by disturbing the air
making the snow dance
on swirling currents of air.
Swirling up, down, all around,
spinning, wildly, round and round,
trying to get to the ground.
Almost bare roads covered
with swirls of snow.
Everywhere the flowing snow.
No cars pass by. Now, only the wind.
Wind still blowing the snow,
up, down, and all around,
dancing lively to the ground.
From my poetry book 'Snowed in by a Warm Fire'
available on Amazon.com
poem by Joe Wocoski
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A Winter of Discontent
I remember a winter a few decades ago.
Where our dear England was covered in snow.
It started on Boxing Day with a blizzard from hell
then in the course of a week the snow just fell.
This once green paradise was now a shroud of white
and everyone was suffering from chillblains and frostbite.
Outdoor life was like an indoor fridge
where everything had frozen like a mountain ridge.
Abandon lorries on the side of the road
men were freezing even their load.
Villages cut off all over the land
so in came the troops to lend a hand.
This was the winter of discontent that lasted from
Christmas, and way past Lent.
As one lot of snow cleared, it would return again
to bring freezing cold tempretures and a lot of pain.
Wind would blow both night and day, and still the snow
never went away.Drifts of snow standing six foot high
just being topped up with snow from a winter sky.
So what of this winter of ice and snow
one that happened a few decades ago.
I remember it as one that was cold and wild
because in the summer God presented me
with my first born child.
In this year, where snow fell in December
it was the coldest winter I will ever remember.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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Snow is not falling
Snow is not falling
No white winter is here
The children are not sleding
The dogs are not white with snow
Without it, it does not seem cold
Only does the wind make you shiver
For it is a clear christmas
For there is no snow
poem by Lexie Bousman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A White Architect Of Light
8.8.88: She came back from the land of democrative destiny and dissolved
into the chaotic void.
Fighting for the freedom of reality
Building the light house in the darkest hours of life
Fixing up the spiritual essence through the existential nothingness
in the valueless zone
Layers by layers, realities of life theatre are turned into distilled light
out of trapped reflections
Mother of modern Myanmar honoured by consciencious tree of life
Curving away all the unnecessary parts
Curving away all the necessary parts
Communication revolution of the 21 st century
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
I Hear Within Myself The Greater Lines Of Others
I HEAR WITHIN MYSELF THE GREATER LINES OF OTHERS
I hear within myself the greater lines of others-
I began to write ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’
I thought ‘Continuous as the stars that shine and twinkle on the Milky Way’
I felt ‘When you are old and grey and full of sleep’
I thought again ‘Doth God exact day – labor light denied? ”
I felt in my soul ‘Ah love let us be true to one another For the world which lies before us like a land of dreams ‘
Inside me I heard ‘The world is filled with the grandeur of God’
Time after time I repeated ‘O cursed spite that ever I was born to set it right’-
All in me is poetry more than my own
‘Oh to be in England, now that April’s here’
'Oh wild west wind thou breath of autumn's being'
I do not know how to stop the lines -
More in me than myself is the Poetry of others
And where I begin must end a greater Beauty not my own-
Oh Poem Oh Poetry Oh Poets of the Past
Oh Light of the world greater than my own small light-
Oh singing in the wilderness a song not my own
Oh much more than I can ever be
Others’ Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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