December's Fury
Icicles
inter-lace
branches
weaving
myst erious
patterns.
Isolated
in winters
clutch.
trees stand
barren
stark naked.
trembling
bodies hover
together.
searching
for an
escape.
December's
fury lashes
out.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Stark
All matter and existence
build from the concept of quark
Stark
Everything you need for life
Fits on one Arc
Stark
A misty graveyard with just
the song of the Lark
Stark
The raving madness that takes hold
and makes you bark
Stark
The cutting bluntness
of a succinct remark
Stark
Barren, the searing desert.
I fight the urge to disembark
Stark
A broken mind, in the shade
of depression, so dark
Stark
A winters morn alone
on a bench in an empty park
Stark
poem by Stevie Taite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shy Christmas Tree And The Hundred Fairy Lights
Now the Christmas tree sits shyly
In the corner of the room,
Like a shining beam of brightness
In the dismal winter gloom,
All aglow with tiny twinkles
Of a hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
Shiny tinsel shimmers sparkling,
Twined around like silver string,
While the multicoloured baubles
Turn around and gently swing,
All reflecting light and glitter
From the hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
Stuck tight to the top’s a fairy
In her ballerina dress;
As to what she might be thinking
You will have to try and guess:
Is she looking on with longing
At the hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights?
There are presents for the grown-ups
Underneath the Christmas tree
But there’s nothing for the children
Who will have to wait and see
What old Santa has got for them
While the hundred fairy lights
Dance around shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
He will go collect his reindeer
And pack presents on his sleigh
And then fly among the moonbeams,
Just before it’s Christmas day,
Guided by the twinkling starshine
Bright as all those fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
He will wait until each infant
Is tucked up so tight asleep,
For they mustn’t ever catch him
And they mustn’t ever peep
Till he vanishes in stardust
Glittering bright as fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
And then, when it’s Christmas morning,
At the bottom of each bed
There will be a pile of presents
For each smiling, happy head
That sees toys and gifts, as welcome
As the hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
And they’ll hurry down the staircase
For their breakfast and they’ll see
That the Christmas tree is smiling,
Joining in with all their glee
As it shakes, with happy laughter,
All its hundred fairy lights
Which dance round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
But the Christmas tree grows sadder,
For the next twelve days will fly
And then Christmas will be over
And it’s time to say goodbye,
Though it’s thankful for the friendship
Of the hundred fairy lights
Which danced round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
But one of its relations,
In a forest, far away,
Waits, in keen anticipation,
For next year’s Christmas day
When it stands, proud, in the corner
With a hundred fairy lights
To dance round brave, waving branches
In the dark December nights.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stark (5,3,1 structure for Gulsher: -)
All matter that existence here
constructed of quark?
Stark
Everything you need for life
Fits one arc?
Stark
A misty graveyard with only
Song of Lark
Stark
Raving madness that takes hold
Makes you bark
Stark
Cutting bluntness of succinct remark
Stalks like shark
Stark
Barron, the searing hot desert
Must not disembark
Stark
Broken mind, shades
under depression
So very dark
Stark
Winters morn sitting on bench
In empty park
Stark
poem by Stevie Taite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beyond & Before
Sparkling trees of silver foam
Cast shadows in winter home,
Swaying branches breaking sound,
Lonely forest trembling ground.
Masquerading leaves of blue run circles round the morning dew,
Patterns understood by you, reaching out beyond and before.
Time, like gold dust, brings mind down to hidden levels underground,
Say a few words to the wind, thats all thats left of winters friend.
Reaching the snow in the days of the cold, casting a spell out of ice.
Now that youre gone,
The summers too long and it seems like the end of my life
Beyond and before.
Time, like gold dust, brings mind down.
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beyond & Before
Sparkling trees of silver foam
Cast shadows in winter home,
Swaying branches breaking sound,
Lonely forest trembling ground.
Masquerading leaves of blue run circles round the morning dew,
Patterns understood by you, reaching out beyond and before.
Time, like gold dust, brings mind down to hidden levels underground,
Say a few words to the wind, thats all thats left of winters friend.
Reaching the snow in the days of the cold, casting a spell out of ice.
Now that youre gone,
The summers too long and it seems like the end of my life
Beyond and before.
Time, like gold dust, brings mind down.
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Autumn Night
An autumn night, so bitter chill it is
An owl, for all its plum and thick feathers is cold
The hare long ago rushed limping trembling through the frozen maze
Into a lair, and silent stark are the song birds on a woody enfold
Naked trees with barren boughs, no leaf does tremble, no ripple there
On the streets, all abandoned still under the night sleepy eye
The world so deserted from any human sign or care
Darkness reign on dreary routes with echoing cry
And the moon whether prudish or shy in this cold night
Has fled to her bower, well reluctant to lend her dimming light
No light in this oppressing darkness, no fume no torch in the gloom
Is this world ever waken, do these trees ever bloom
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All rights reserved
Patterns
Patterns all around you
Patterns everywhere
Patterns of behavior
Sometimes seem unfair
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Patterns unfamiliar
Patterns lead you through (to)
Patterns of discovery
Tracing out the clues
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Stuck in your mind
In this land where stability is hard to find
You can rearrange the patterns so unkind
Dont bother asking why a pattern never cries
Old patterns never die they just go on and on
Patterns multiplying
Re-direct our view
Endless variations
Make it all seem new
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeps as if Squeezed
Difficult it is to keep defended,
Generations of sins committed.
When an integrity diminishes...
With a steady application of deceit.
Increasing as it does,
An exposure for all to see.
Without the benefit of relief.
How is it that anyone...
Can maintain with a sustaining of beliefs?
When evidence provided seeps as if squeezed.
And is as obvious as the falling,
Of Auntumn leaves from barren trees.
As stark branches left bare,
Reveal such a nakedness that seems to stare.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Father Winter
Welcome back home Father Winter
we have waited all year for you.
Your lovely trees, so tall
their branches now bare
they stand there waving you
back home you brought with you
your winter jewels, now they hang
on those naked branches.
The summer flowers, have
now laid down for a long winters
nap their waiting for you to cover
them with your winter blanket.
Your blanket will keep them
warm till spring then they'll
all pop up and sing.
Now all the small animals have
laid their heads down too sweet
dreams every thing will awake to
fresh new season.
You have dressed everything for
Christmas. your ice snow flakes
have landed on our pond it looks
looks like big white frosted glass
mirror it also created beautiful
glass like ornaments that
hang on the ever green trees.
Your cold fluffy snow lays upon
their branches it drapes like a
pearl necklace among their branches
they all look so lovely.
The winter clouds that you have blown
in float beneath the stars so bright
the full moon shines down upon the
hill tops all covered in your beauty.
The fresh snow glistens like stars
and silver gliter it looks like
millions of diamondseen have been
scattered on the beaten paths.
Your winter air smell so crisp
and cold as you speak, you can
see your breath in \the cold air
the only lights are from the new
full winter moon.
As you can see Father Winter has
blown, in with such briskness.
Every where you now look,
now looks bright and fresh.
Little children have started the
count down.To that special
night which is not to far off in sight.
And like ''SANTA'
You'll be gone, in the wink
of an eye.
We thank you for all the beauty
that you have given us, you'll
only last a while upon you I'll
walk a brisk mile.
We'll love you as long as you'll
last..Upon your snow we'll
dance and play.
We'll do this each cold day..
Until you melt away.
and then we'll say a sad good-bye.,
GAYLE ANNE GOFF
DECEMBER
2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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Tiger Fury
The image of the pussycat,
So playful, without care...
Was gone in seconds, just like that,
When fury made him stare...
And all at once, the mood had changed
And tension killed the calm...
The trembling tiger looked deranged,
Intent on deadly harm.
His body language said it all -
You've stepped across the line!
How dare you think that you're so tall
That you can take what's mine!
Your very life hangs by a thread!
For you, there's no escape!
I'll scratch you till your blood has bled,
Then crush you like a grape!
You'll never see the stars again,
Nor silver moon at night...
For I'll teach you a lesson, then
You'll feel one final bite!
My fury takes my fear away...
I'll win with no remorse!
If I were you, I wouldn't stay,
But you must stay, of course!
For fury echoes in your heart
Enough to match my own -
You've too much pride, you won't depart,
Yet soon I'll stand alone...
Yes, one must live and one must die...
The countdown tracks the time!
Two furies fight and fur must fly...
Till one fury lasts sublime...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Tiger Fury'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Guess the Title - Patter down Pat
..........................PATTERNS
....... ................which.......stitch
....... .........PATTERNS....PATTERNS
............ ...fit....................................into
...........PATTERNS....................PATTE RNS
.........knit......................... .........................onto
....PATTERNS ..........................................PATTERN S
enrich.................................. ...................................which
. ...PATTERNS...................................... ....PATTERNS
.........knit................ ..................................onto
... ........PATTERNS....................PATTERNS
...............fit............................ ........into
................PATTERNS....P ATTERNS
.......................which...... .stitch
..........................PATTERNS
10 August 1995
robi03_0762_robi03_0000 QXX_MXX
[C] Jonathan Robin written
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Insolvent for my friend Aldo
The silver leaves of aspen trees
which shimmer in the playful breeze.
Each separate leaf reflecting light
like newly minted coinage bright.
Quite soon will be a memory
as autumn winds strip every tree
until no single leaf is left
Their branches naked and bereft.
Though they still shiver in the breeze.
The naked branches do not please
the eye the way they used to do.
I long again to see the view
of silver laden aspen trees.
which dip and curtsy in the breeze..
28-Oct-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Winters Sun
Winters pall dims the vestiges of autumn gone,
lost the laughter and the sun, families fled
past the eyes of those past, replaced by barren sun.
Mundanity dulls the keenest edge, (re) casts
playact in imports stead, each actor caught in
winters pall, dims the vestiges of autumn gone.
In heady, early days, blushing glance was enough
to hold, then break, the rhythm of the dreary drum.
Past the eyes of those past, replaced by barren sun,
each generation caricatured, first by writers pen,
then realigned by victors gun; the awful chill of
winters pall dims the vestiges of autumn. Gone,
the comfort in a hug, entwined hands: now undone,
voices held on memories breadth, fade away into the
past. The eyes of those past, replaced by barren sun,
sightless, gaping - cast amongst the great undone, stories
raise them from the depths, before letting go into the
winters pall, dims the vestiges of autumn gone
past the eyes of those past - replaced by barren sun.
poem by Christopher Withers
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Nothing Left To Auction
Those who hated,
Now find themselves to be naked.
And..
Without escapes,
To re-address a fate that awaits.
Isolated and outraged,
By their own selfish ways...
And now naked.
Those who hated can't fake it.
Or look for those escapes...
That chased away,
The others from the gates.
They now are naked!
Together and can't fake it.
Those with time to hate...
Isolated and outraged,
By their own selfish ways...
Now themselves so naked.
Discriminated and hated.
'Our things are gone,
There's nothing left to auction.'
Now themselves so naked.
Discriminated and hated.
Isolated and outraged.
By their own selfish ways.
'Our things are gone,
There's nothing left to auction.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Simple Dream
Along the road, the trees
Stand like soldiers at ease
Branches trudge like bayonets
I walk on underneath
The bracing sky
Though my eyes are naked
Collecting stars
From the depth of the universe
There is my dream
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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A winters morning
A winters morning
~
Amongst a listless morning
still thoughts linger
in the soft pale light
cold dew hangs in the air
bare trees line the horizon
a backdropp of grey cloud
there is nothing more
or less beautiful seen
within a winters portrait
than a world changing
stripped bare, naked
the frailty of life
witnessed
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Weaving
Adding the beauty of every illusion to
my own vision of a beautiful universe,
the sweet sound of Germanic song, the
stark beauty of Rumi, the Sufi poet, the
lovely rhythm of a song in Creole
It does not matter that these examples
have no substance, colour and form; the
shimmering colours appears in the dark
chocolate of the organ notes, the silver
bells of flutes and piccolos
The form is round and strong, there are no
straight lines in words and song, everything
consists of swirling mist, last night I saw the
weaving of Many Worlds, every decision splits
the weaver’s thread into many bits
Weaving side by side, forming patterns like
cables, curling spirals spinning around each
other for evermore…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Wind
The February full moon stirred
A wintery blustering
Wind that roared through the neighborhood
Like an out-of-control freight train.
The stark, naked trees swayed wildly
In a ceremonial dance
While low-growing tree branches touched
Intermittently the ground
In swift, servile genuflections.
Then for an abbreviated
Lull, an eerie silence prevailed
Within this moonlit quietude
Until the winds bellowing voice
Was heard echoing its return.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Polka Patterns
Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Lets go into the bathroom
I know were in a room where you would not expect much math
Usually youre in here for a shower or a bath
But if you gaze upon the floor, and if youre kinda smart
Youll see the repetition is like geometric art
Wow, haha
Look
Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Hey!
A polkameister like myself never has to be bored
I just grab my ax and play some patterns on my keyboard
Nows the time for earplugs if you care about your health
So stand back, everybody, Im gonna express myself
Look at this, patterns
Ive got blisters on my fingers
Woo, hey, aw, get down
Yeah, help me, somebody, woo
Still there? okay
Next time you find yourself at an exciting polka party
You can make some patterns with your feet and with your body
If you dont know the steps yet, heres the gang with all the answers
Ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the weird al polka dancers
Here they are
Everywhere, we see them there
We stop and stare at patterns
We dont care, we must declare
Weve got a flair for patterns
On our hair, the clothes we wear
Our savoir faire is patterns
All we see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Wallpaper, skyscrapers, funny papers, patterns
Evergreens, nouvelle cuisine, human beings, patterns
Garden rakes, wedding cakes, rattlesnakes, patterns
Golden wheat, little feet, my heartbeat
I gotta stop
Patterns, patterns, patterns, patterns
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the winter strip trees
When the winter strip trees, uncovering them to naked,
where they stay behind like stripped skeletons
with only here and there birds remaining,
the secret of survival is still hidden,
even when it becomes icy cold,
doves and sparrows still fly past.
When the winter strip trees, uncovering them to naked,
where they stay behind like stripped skeletons,
it is looking as if the season is making an assault
on everything living, nothing can escape it,
there are still flowers blooming,
as if protected against the cold they are keeping watch
when the winter strip trees, uncovering them to naked.
poem by Gert Strydom
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