A Calendar of Sonnets: December
The lakes of ice gleam bluer than the lakes
Of water 'neath the summer sunshine gleamed:
Far fairer than when placidly it streamed,
The brook its frozen architecture makes,
And under bridges white its swift way takes.
Snow comes and goes as messenger who dreamed
Might linger on the road; or one who deemed
His message hostile gently for their sakes
Who listened might reveal it by degrees.
We gird against the cold of winter wind
Our loins now with mighty bands of sleep,
In longest, darkest nights take rest and ease,
And every shortening day, as shadows creep
O'er the brief noontide, fresh surprises find.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Water Anew
From mountain high to valley low, the warmth of springs thaw runoff comes clear cold water from the melting snow.
Spring rain, cool and clear, mist and fog, early morning's dew, creeks, rivers, lakes renew.
Though mud stained from the thaw, the water soon will clear, life sustaining, life anew.
With summer weather comes light or heavy rains, sprinkle, mist or fog, life sustaining, life anew.
With autumn arrives the cold, then frost, soon after winter follows, sleet and snow, water turns to ice.
Though covered with ice and winters snow, the water in creeks, rivers and lakes renew until springs thaw, the water still flows.
Whether spring, summer, autumn or winter, water, life sustaining, life anew.
poem by Alvin Schaut
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The Point Of View: I
I
There was never winter, summer only: roses,
Pink and white and red,
Shining down the warm rich garden closes;
Quiet trees and lawns of dappled shadow,
Silver lilies, whisper of mignonette,
Cloth-of-gold of buttercups outspread;
Good gold sun that kissed me when we met,
Shadows of floating clouds on sunny meadow.
In the hay-field, scented, grey,
Loving life and love, I lay;
By fresh airs blown, drifted into sleep;
Slept and dreamed there. Winter was the dream.
II
Summer never was, was always winter only;
Cold and ice and frost
Only, driven by the ice-wind, lonely,
In a world of strangers, in the welter
Of the puddles and the spiteful wind and sleet,
Blinded by the spitting hailstones, lost
In a bitter unfamiliar street,
I found a doorway, crouched there for just shelter,
Crouched and fought in vain for breath,
Cursed the cold and wished for death;
Crouched there, gathered somehow warmth to sleep;
Slept and dreamed there. Summer was the dream.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Hundreds Of Tears
I stood in the warmth of the light
Chilled to the bone
Hundreds of faces in sight
Still I was alone
Door after door
And room after empty room
Ive stood here before
But under a different moon
In the longest days and the darkest nights
Down the longest road theres a presence of light
I hear a voice that calls me
Its loves name I call
In the end
Ive walked in and out of the fire
Between truth and lies
Now how many children watch
While one child crys
Ill tear down these walls
And watch while their souls are freed
Ill throw away pride
To drown in this endless sea
In the longest days and the darkest nights
Down the longest road theres a presence of light
I hear a voice that calls me
Its loves name I call
In the end
Hundreds of tears on the water
Mercy come rain down on me
In the longest days and the darkest nights
Down the longest road theres a presence of light
In the longest days and the darkest nights
Down the longest road theres a presence of light
I hear a voice that calls me
Its loves name I call
In the end
Hundreds of tears on the water
Mercy come rain down on me
Hundreds of tears on the water
Mercy come rain down on me
Hundreds of tears on the water
Mercy come rain down on me
Hundreds of tears on the water
Mercy come rain down on me
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Frozen Lakes
The lakes are frozen again.
They look like silver glass.
The cold winds from the north do blow
and another winter must pass.
The life that's under this wintry scene
conserves its energy.
It awaits the warmer approach of spring
to lift this canopy.
And when it feels the crackling ice
and the warmth of the sun
it will rise to the surface in its annual search
for food to overcome
the stillness it's known in the deepest water
that now seems to be done.
Life returns to the lakes again
as the ice does disappear.
The water comes alive again
and once again we hear
its life.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sad Night
On the eve of my 21st birthday
I sat alone in freezing temperatures
I walked upon snow and almost slipped on frozen water
The sky was clear above me as a plane flew over head
Dark, cold, lonely, sad night
Amidst the frustration of the winter dog trying to bite my backside
My feet were freezing inside their boots
My body was numb; the icy air ate through my gloves
It provided a bone chilling unpleasantness
It is a cold, lonely, dark, sad night
I called a friend to have a chat, but there was no answer
I was literally standing atop a frozen snow angel
That I had formed with my body a few days earlier
I left a message, not much more to it
Tis a lonely, dark, cold, sad night
I crusaded from one side of the parking lot
To the other in search of light
I could find no sunshine in my presence
Nay, I was shrouded by the deepest blackest shadows
Of the dark, sad, cold, lonely night
I can not sleep, I can not hide
The death’s awake, alive inside.
2-3-09
poem by Jesse Tampa
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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!
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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The Kiss
The snow is white on wood and wold,
The wind is in the firs,
So dead my heart is with the cold,
No pulse within it stirs,
Even to see your face, my dear,
Your face that was my sun;
There is no spring this bitter year,
And summer's dreams are done.
The snakes that lie about my heart
Are in their wintry sleep;
Their fangs no more deal sting and smart,
No more they curl and creep.
Love with the summer ceased to be;
The frost is firm and fast.
God keep the summer far from me,
And let the snakes' sleep last!
Touch of your hand could not suffice
To waken them once more;
Nor could the sunshine of your eyes
A ruined spring restore.
But ah-your lips! You know the rest:
The snows are summer rain,
My eyes are wet, and in my breast
The snakes' fangs meet again.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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God Of Thunder
The lakes blue ripples display their gleam
Sun rays reflecting upon them with ease
Small to minute current rolls
But with naked eye barely seen
The shoreline was edged uneven
With sand and rock making borderlines
Drawing the earths natural seperation's
Of the water and the sod-So Divine
The electricity arrived in thin air's ozone
And thunder claps-in the distance borne
Soon-the lightening flash could be seen
Striking the lakes blue gleam
Flashing zig-zags of lightening bolts
Echoing Thor's Thudding screams!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Winter's Whitest Spurts
Although John Clare declared that he
saw spring in winter’s whitest spurts,
for many this is hard to see
when, freezing, all our body hurts,
and winter’s direst discontent
makes cold blasts pierce the frozen soul.
We wonder where the summer went
when icy winds exact their toll,
and whistling toll for all of us
on nights we wish would be more silent.
each blast a blaring blunderbuss
that’s aimed to make us all an island,
disconnected from the spring
and summer, fall, that we remember
when we for warmth our cold arms fling
around each other in December.
Inspired by John Clare’s “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.
12/24/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Winter
In these last days
In which winter has sealed all life in rest
And in these last mad hours blowing through the trees
In which warm lovers have sewn their final ties of happiness
When words iced cold
Break down
Returning to a familiar yearning
In frozen parks
Where empty seats
Mark the turning of a year
We wait in winter
Some cross by the frozen lakes
Where brittle arms of trees are waving
We wait in winter
Growing older
Certain of ourselves in sleep
For this is a time of birth
In learning kindness
In the absence of the flower
In every naked seed
We find our power
In the absence, our completion
In the ending, our returning
Back to the root
That's buried deep within the soil
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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An Icicle Kiss
'I am the Winter Flower'
she said
'the opposite of the Summer Ones.'
'My blooms
peak in deep snow
and I weather
hail, sleet and bitter cold.
My Summer Kin
know the Sun.
I live beneath
White Winter's Glow
withstanding
blizzard wind
as furies blow.
I produce
anti-cold;
survive
winter's
frozen mold.
My petals
are steel-forged
for winter has made
me strong.
My bulb forces it's way
up through frozen ground
and defiant
I face worst Winter's onslaughts.
My petals
fold, unfold
peak,
and stare Winter down.
I am the Winter Flower
beautiful in my Ice Tower.
I too,
have my Ice Prince
who plants upon me
an Icicle Kiss
beneath diamond shining
beautiful,
frosty
Wintry Stars.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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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
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Eternal Summer
frozen chill landscape
sapping warmth lust rut life
leeching nutrients in brain
eating into marrow of bones
rivers streams lakes
entombed in ice age
continents stretch
weight white bound
too long too long perpetual winter …
generations gone never ending ice…
birds migrate before chill winter sets in...
temporal species die hibernation appeals...
sleep on sleep on slumber in dormant stasis...
live off reserve body fate reduce pulse metabolism...
people also move to warmer or tropical climes
when cold and loneliness bite too deep
spring is a season of growing sap rising rebirth
birds fly follow the eternal summer sun
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mother Nature Can Be Fickle
Winter’s cold is Mother Nature’s way
Of saying, lie with me now, lay your head on my breast
It’s snow, a blanket under which to lay
Neath a crystal cover, enjoying winter's cold caress
Frost rimed windows … Mother Nature’s art
Icy abstractions painted with frosty finesse
Crystalline concoctions that form only a part
Of Mother Natures wonderful winter largesse
Ice coated limbs of slope shouldered trees
droop drowsily down as if fallen asleep
Unable to sway in winter’s frigid breeze
Appear as white mounds, when the snow drifts deep
The stillness one hears on cold winter nights
Broken by the sudden crack of ice laden boughs
The ethereal essence of undulating northern lights
Headlights in the sky for Nature’s snowplows
All is withdrawn, in awe of Nature’s might
Willingly waiting, deep neath frozen ground
Safely sequestered, from winter’s cruel bite
In warm tunnels and burrows, til spring comes around
Mother Nature invites winter into her domain
Cohabits with coldness, wantonly sleeps with Jack frost
Yet finds cold winter quickly falls to disdain
Invites in the spring…and tells winter to get lost
Mother Nature is fickle…and also the boss!
poem by David Whalen
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Bass Lake (2)
Through the Woods
along the winding road
we arrive at Bass Lake
just in time for the summer break
Such clean sweet water
fresh as fresh can be
and you do not have to think
That water we can drink,
you and Me
So we all run to the end of the Dock
and jump in the cold water, awaiting the Shock
we swim for Clams,
and watch the Fish watching us
no worries the Fish don't Fuss
But having Fun, and swimming all day
Takes it out of you in a funny way
So we head up to the barn, for a lie in the hay
And we go to sleep dreaming that tomorrow will be a Sunny Day
poem by David Darbyshire
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Earth-quakes?
God shakes
The earth with quakes –
A way, some men, He wakes,
To know the genuine from fakes,
And to prepare more souls for Elysium Lakes!
God takes
Some lives, He makes –
Like fallen leaves, He rakes,
And gives some men more pains and aches –
A way, sometimes, the ‘cakes of souls’, He bakes!
Man takes
No blame for quakes;
He is not wise but makes
All blunders, mortal sins, mistakes,
Without in life, ever applying the brakes!
God makes;
The Maker takes;
Should man not for God sakes,
Then understand the pow’r of quakes –
An index of the Omnipotent’s aches?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-15-2010
poem by John Celes
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Nice to Be Winter
It must be nice to follow fall
Rest, my babies, rest
To blanch the landscape, trees and all
Rest, my babies, rest
To still the flies and honey bees
Blowing snow in swirling wreathes
And comb the pines with a frozen breeze
To ice the waves which rule the seas
It must be nice to be winter
It must be nice to sew for spring
Sleep, my babies, sleep
Soon to melt from everything
Sleep, my babies, sleep
To brighten night with a moonlit glare
The might of slumber’s quiet fare
And whistle whispers in the air
To cure the world of summer’s ware
It must be nice to be winter
poem by Kimberley Myles
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The Thief of Beauty
I
The mind is Beauty's thief, the poet takes
The golden spendthrift's trail among the blooms
Where she stands tossing silver in the lakes,
And twisting bright swift threads on airy looms.
Her ring the poppy snatches, and the rose
With laughter plunders all her gusty plumes.
The poet gleans and gathers as she goes
Heedless of summer's end certain and soon,
Of winter rattling at the door of June.
II
When Beauty lies hand-folded, pale and still,
Forsaken of her lovers and her lords,
And winter keeps cold watch upon the hill,
Then he lets fall his bale of coloured words.
At frosty midnight June shall rise in flame,
Move at his magic with her bells and birds,
The rose will redden as he speaks her name.
He shall release earth's frozen bosom there,
And with great words shall cuff the whining air.
poem by Muriel Stuart
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Frozen Pride
Snow covered hills
In the deep of January
Freezing cold
Jitters makes me shake
On the side of the house
Icicles cling high
Overly clear
Unlike the sky
Overcast and gray
Precipitation likely
Heard just now
The winter wind
I'm frozen in place
Can't feel my feet
I wonder why
I'm standing outside
In the dead of winter
Seizing the frozen pride
Soon to participate
With the dance of the cold
poem by Russell Sivey
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