Seas closed above
We left Thule's icy moorings, three days ago,
13 hundred miles SW of Greenland, regards
from cumuli down on side-scuttles the snow,
memory of your figure still, amid dockyards..
Daffodil blossoms, bloom today, in my yard,
my goals will meet my end in voids dimension,
a ghostly sonar blinks, our entreats en guard,
of no warm recounting, January of ascension.
January, day twenty one, a latent still embrace,
A flash of Centauri, bad weather, fromward aft
our beckoning to you, fog's horizontal trace,
Maenads of us inherited, envious of this path.
Recall our summer of eighteen, a twinge within,
my soul's obtusion golden cross, I tightly clench,
our dreams on nimbus are, you, my Naiad kin,
dum dum, diesels oddly hum, and decks drench.
The stars of south shined eery-like, so, I knew,
from arctic we away edged, upon deathly links,
at 63 N,30 W, our twilight souls withdrew,
our cargo sided the wind oblong, and final brinks.
January 't was, 'n' we immersed to Triton forts,
it was your smile a sea gull's flight in our cove,
it was a sweetest rain of afternoon, a dim deport,
felt of your glance as foreign seas, closed above..
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
January Stars
Ten below and falling fast
Those days of summer were long past
My horoscope said you'd come back
I have my doubts, you see
And as I watched the mercury
And thought about the prophecy
A new moon and an early thaw
I watched the door for you
If January stars came true
And as I gaze at winter stars
The second house conjunct with Mars
They would suggest that we'll be one
I have my doubts, you see
If I maintain a skeptic's eye
And train the other on the sky
I'd eat my hat if it came true
I'd probably eat yours too
If January stars came true
If January stars came true
Now I'm in a pretty mess
It's getting warmer I confess
My horoscope said you'd come back
I have my doubts it's true
And as I watched the mercury
And thought about the prophecy
A new moon and an early thaw
I left the door for you
If January stars
If January stars
If January stars came true
January stars
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Second Week Of January
On the second week of January I hear the shrike thrush sing
His flute like notes so pleasant to them have a familiar ring
And Spring is but a memory and Summer near her prime
And that birds sing out of Season happens all of the time.
The piping of the white backed magpie his is a familiar song
By their songs Nature's feathered minstrels one cannot get them wrong
A pleasant Summer's morning 'twill make a pleasant day
And the paddocks of Wonthaggi scent sweetly of baled hay.
In a clearing I am standing surrounded by scrub trees
In such places the Aboriginal dancers had their Corroborees
They danced on Summer evenings before the sun went down
Long before there was a Gippsland or a Wonthaggi Town.
A morning on the second week of January with a warm summery breeze
And a forecast high for the afternoon of 25 degrees
One might say perfect weather for the time of year
North in New South Wales and Queensland 'tis warmer by far than here.
On the second week of January the weather warm and dry
And a goldfinch he is singing on a wattle tree nearby
And brown butterflies are dancing in the sunny morning sky
And Mother Nature's natural beauty is for all to enjoy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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January 2012
The wind is riding a roller coaster,
Blowing garbage cans everywhere,
I can hear their tussle on the driveway,
Tossing them in the air,
Another storm to blanket us,
Who live here by Lake Erie,
Another whirl of winter blast,
The sound of it is eerie,
For January the weather is,
So odd this time of year,
I read that all the flu bugs,
Are again going to appear,
Something about La Nina,
Or maybe El Nino,
I'm not sure which it is,
But we're very low on snow,
None of us Clevelanders mind a bit,
It's a very nice change of pace,
We'll take whatever break we can get,
We like the sunshine in our face,
Just today it was 58,
And the sun shone for a minute,
All the snow from the other day,
The rain came and took it with it.
But being that it's only January,
We have much more season to go,
Soon again the plows will roll,
To remove all of our snow.
poem by Victoria Gauci
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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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Golden Days
There are days in our life
we often refer to as our golden days.
Days that will live forever in our memory,
days when our life felt so comfortable
and we had that warm feeling inside.
Times we wished could last forever
and everyday would be like them.
Sadly, all too soon they are placed into our memory.
Sometimes we get the chance to relive them
for a brief spell now and then
whenever we stop and reminisce
with an old friend.
Then for the briefest of moments,
we are transported back then,
the time of our golden days again.
2 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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January Friend
Reach for higher ground
About the way you look
The way you scream out loud
Mine
Just like the last time
It's all the same to me
She said
Let's pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Cry
Don't cry out loud
You've gotta bear your cross but never dream too loud
And you're tied
Tied to the next time
You realize your crimes
Let's pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Pretend
My January friend
I'm wanting you again
I wanna touch ya
Every single heart that beats
Time stood still Monday mornin' yeah
Showed me what I had to see
It's not the way I thought it should be
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
And every heart that beats pretend
Oh January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
You're my January friend
And every heart that beats tonight's
Pretend
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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January Rain
I don't love January rain-
at least, not like I used to.
Maybe it's being in a different house
on this dirty, noisy street.
I never used to feel this way-
January rain used to make me happy.
But the cold rain now lapping at my windows
reminds me my eyes have begun to betray me,
and my joints ache when the weather comes in,
and the silver gray clouds have begun to match my hair.
Jan.2006
poem by Toni Atchison
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A Wool Fleet Chorus
Fare you well, you Sydney girls, time for us to go!
The Peter's at the fore truck, and five thousand bales below,
We've a dozen shellbacks forrard, and a skipper hard as nails,
And we're bound for old England and the January sales!
Soon we'll leave the Snares behind, blusterous and strong
Up'll come the Westerlies and hustle her along:
Running like a driven deer through the thundering gales,
Racing under royals for the January Sales!
Old Cape Stiff 'll drop astern, like a blinking dream,
Sleet and snow and crashing seas, fog and ice'll seem,
Snoring through the Tropics with a Trade that never fails,
Nor'ard on a bowline for the January sales!
Then the girls'll get her towrope, and she'll smell the land again,
And she'll reel the knots off steady as a blessed railway train,
Till seventy days from Sydney Heads the Lizard light she hails -
First to the Channel for the January sales!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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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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January
the tinkle of porcelain spoons
clink of glasses
and click of chopsticks
turn over december to january
the old year
just a few minutes ago
a flash of the meteor
gone and lost
in another part of the mind
now all alighted with
the new year, new plans
new wishes and hopes
january
the new child
brings fresh hope and joy
all of a sudden all the attention
is focussed on the new days
the old year slowly, slowly,
just another memory
a dead relativel
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.
Ted Kooser
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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How January Is Propelled To Spring
Chill January’s snow falls thick and fast
Propelled by blinding blizzard’s biting blast,
So soft white blankets bind the earth for days,
Though spring means drifts shall not lie long nor last.
Bleak January’s rain falls hard and long
Impelled by fierce Atlantic gales, full strong
So even mighty oaks bow in their wake
Till fury fades to calm in spring’s sweet song.
Wild January’s storms shall shed their sting,
Repelled by sun, as winter spins to spring,
So kinder, temperate breezes gently blow
To melt the snow, that all the fields can sing.
Mean January’s curse will never stay,
Dispelled by hopes of ever-lengthening day,
So gardens don spring coats of cheerful hues
As colour’s charm returns where all was grey.
Cruel January’s cloak of white shall yield,
Compelled to turn to green in springtime’s field,
So leaping lambs can clothe the hills again
And cattle quit the comfort of the bield.
Grim January’s gloom will end, by mirth
Expelled, as warmth returns to cheer the earth,
So birds will nest and leaves begin to spring
And dormant buds burst, bearing brand-new birth.
Harsh January’s coldness is compelled
To change, as dismal drabness is expelled.
Repelled by spring, impelled, the frost must flee;
So, doubts dispelled, to warmth we are propelled.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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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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For an Otter
Three Years: I am to always be here with you.
Even the days I was not (you were not)
Sufficed by the many hes or shes, lips for kissing
Or maybe, just once, settled for sweetness
Tossed around in my bed, (your bed)
Lead me (perhaps you too) to doors of salvation
But never apart for long to ask of me who I was, and once
Come after I'd gone missing in January, from last January
And was not around to hear you but
You'd remembered to always speak in French to me
So I could always return to remember to say to you
That you were still smiling and even after so long
Strangers melting together in summer's sun goodbye
I wanted for you to stop kissing me
Only to sleep in your hand with mine
To be too wordy, too distant
To argue, To agree on
The brilliance in:
sedation, grinding teeth, tired eyes, jittery knees,
Your songs and such that are not about me, and
Poems I write and read to you of January from last January
so far away is the plane you caught this morning
Too many states away are my hands from your hands
- What if we had not been lovers fighting against love?
I don't want to know
I am to think I would have lost when I did not have to
I am to always be here with you
poem by Belinda Nelson
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The Memory
Again, the pieces of my memory,
Have reunited to create this untold story,
Reflective beams of brilliant glory,
Paint the words that bloom from the mists of allegory.
The sunlight dances on the eve of January,
The mystical shafts as slivers of Winter,
Fade into the fields of the soothing whisper,
Above the starry snow strewn sanctuary.
The night is light, the hearts are merry,
The soft-spoken coos of moonlight tarry,
Beyond the adoring gaze of auroras fairy,
The souls embrace the depths of their aerie.
The lustrous delight of the warmth of the end,
Exhale sweet perfumes of the blissful melody,
Joy dances among the hearts of the visitor and friend,
As all are united together in the purpose and journey.
A world to come, another to cease,
Faith mingles in the Time of one history,
Lost in a word, the ignorant peace,
In pieces above, the divine mingles in Beauty,
The life of the moment, the breath of release,
All is one, in the night, in the path of eternity.
Remember the night,
Bask in the innocence and serenity,
The decision was right,
Under the haze of Winter's finality,
Your gaze was in sight,
We drank in the last, the last of the story,
I was married your knight,
Do not forget the joy of eternity,
For our love was our might,
I never lost the pieces of memory,
On the eve of the final night,
That drew you towards me,
We were promised the light,
In the arms of our journey,
Our purpose fulfilled, we awaited destiny,
Unbound into flight,
We flew off through infinity.
The memory sealed,
In the whisper of Winter,
The moonlight descended,
And hope ever did linger,
When we were befriended,
By the angelic figure,
The one that you are,
That I am,
That brought us together,
To rest in the Beauty,
Of our created slumber,
For all else did fall,
On Winter's eve of January,
All cast out forever,
In the nihilistic reality,
Forever lost, Forever gone,
But for us, my love;
Who live in the Memory.
poem by Jeremy Cahoon
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Song Of January!
January sings again for me
and for a year dead gone
on the wheels
of a northern curse.
January sings,
sings again for me
and for autumn flowers
January 30, 2010
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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Summer into Winter
June stars
January moon
The light dies too quickly
And the dark arrives too soon
April blossom
And august bliss
The frost in the winter
Seals your lips with a kiss
February snow
October trees
When summer dies
So do the leaves
November rain
March flowers
When winter comes
So do dark hours
July sun
September nights
When summer goes to bed
The birds all take flight
December is left
Till the very last
As we look back
At the months just past
poem by Nicola Burkett
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January-IS COLD!
January, how you make me shiver
My teeth chatter with every snowflake you deliver
Snow piled high on my doorstep
You’ve taken all of my pep
With a cold that is felt to the core
Snow so deep your can’t ignore
Summer seems so far away
But I must embrace the day
A snow flocked forest now me surround
With diamond crystals upon the ground
A beauty so breathe taking to the eye
But the COLD of you…..makes me sigh….
1/12/09
poem by Rhonda Baker
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