Nocturnal artistry for M lady Ann Beard
Nocturnal artistry
The frost adds glitter to the grass.
Which stands erect like silver spears.
Transient beauty which will pass.
The suns rays make them disappear.
Lacy designs on window glass.
More delicate than human art
We’d like to keep them but alas.
WE must accept they will depart.
When morning breaks the sun will rise
Undo the efforts of Jack Frost
which we expect it’s no surprise.
Though we bemoan the beauty lost.
Tonight Jack Frost will paint again
his patterns on each window pane.
Sunday,13 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Frost filigrees for M 'lady Ernestine
The first frost paints the window panes
with filigrees of silver white
The artist takes the greatest pains
to ensure that he gets it right.
Though very sad it’s also true.
His artistry is all in vain,
it only lasts an hour or two
before the glass is clear again.
We can enjoy it for a while.
That is what we’re meant to do.
Tomorrow in his usual style
he will have painted it anew.
A different pattern put on show
created there on my window.
28-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Frosted Glass
Frost flowers on my windowpane.
Jack Frost has visited again.
I always know when he's been here.
Because pretty patterns appear
As if by magic overnight.
A tracery of sparkling white.
A sight that sure to satisfy.
The most discerning artist's eye.
It's beautiful though transient.
Frost paintings can't be permanent.
It will last for an hour or two.
Before it melts as it's sure to.
Frost flowers bloom beneath the moon.
‘til morning comes alas too soon.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Certainty for M lady Tsira
The fairy dust Jack Frost has cast
across the rooftops liberally.
Now twinkles in the orange glow
Recalling scenes from long ago.
Scenes from my childhood now long past
I still remember vividly.
The softer glow from the gas lights,
not orange but a greenish hue.
A thousand, thousand points of light
like tiny stars they were so bright.
I used to love the winter nights
and must confess that I still do.
I did not use to mind the cold
Then I was young now I grow old.
So I prefer to stay inside
and watch the frost forming outside.
Appreciate the beauty show
from where I’m dry and warm. I know.
that old age does not come alone
My aging joints reminding me.
To only go out if I must
Be wary of the fairy dust
and when I do to wrap up warm
Then I will come to no great harm.
Jack Frost will sprinkle fairy dust
long after I am dead and gone.
I must enjoy it while I may
it almost turns the night to day.
His is a promise I can trust
the sparkling frost will linger on.
28-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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from C.A.
bloomingbirds fall from this tree
where flower seasons pass
sweetlip & petalwing now
slain upon the grass
frost & glass
frost & broken glass
barefoot on the splinters of your heart
of frost & glass
loveblind & rippingyarns
a-slither on the vine
Snowking, with your thorny eyes
my happiness conspires
frost & glass
frost & broken glass
barefoot on the splinters of your heart
of frost & glass
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cryogenic for M' Lady Catrina Heart
A frozen rose whose colour glows
beneath a crystal coat of ice.
How artistically it shows
a vision fit for paradise.
Still pleasing to the eyes of those
who see it shine amidst the frost.
Catatonic, comatose,
the only beauty it has lost.
Perfume appealing to the nose.
Its scented beauty frozen too.
Without its scent it’s still a rose
Although coated in frigid dew
But it will last until the thaw
then disappear for evermore.
7-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Jack Frost
Silver Jack Frost glistens,
Like snow on a mountain top,
His chilly white icicles shimmer,
As they take over the grass stems,
As silver as the moon,
Coming out to play.
Mists hang,
Over the hills and valley,
Until we are left with low cloud,
Over ruling us,
Like the king of Egypt.
Midday is nearing,
Mr Jack Frost is disappearing.
poem by Jess Sinnamon
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November
November month of fog and mists.
The early mornings have a bite
the silver grass by Jack Frost kissed
in the dark hours of the night.
The sun reluctant slow to rise
His winter rays no longer warm
that frost persists is no surprise.
This is the calm before the storm.
Winter advances openly
no power can withstand its might
What has to be will come to be
A winter world of black and white.
Though advent justifies a feast
the winter cares not in the least.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Everything Was White
Woke up this morning,
outside I beheld
a wonderful sight.
Jack Frost had been around
and everything was white.
It might have been cold,
but I didn’t care.
You could see your breath
freezing in the morning air.
Out came the scraper
to get the frost of the car,
still it was a wonderful sight
seeing Jack Frost’s handy work
and everything white.
poem by David Harris
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Moonlight & Frost
I breathe upon
the window pane
leaving a kiss
that frosts
over.
You do the same.
I kiss your kiss
of frost.
You kiss
mine.
We leave
kisses all over the window
The frost now
reclaiming them
taking them back
into the night
as the humans
(being only human)
continue on
in their dreams.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Fleeting Impressions.
Fleeting Impressions.
Soft silver moonbeams passing through.
A stained glass window in the night.
Are guaranteed to turn into
An abstract picture to delight.
Those who can appreciate.
A different form of artistry
Which never becomes out of date.
But remains contemporary.
The way the colours merge and blend
The interplay of light and shade
The constant changes will not end.
Until the sun announces a new day
When daylight breaks the moonlight goes
Back where it came from I suppose.
Tuesday,29 November 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Jack Frost & The Hooded Crow
Through long december nights we talk in words of rain or snow
While you, through chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go.
Why not spare a thought this day for those who have no flame
To warm their bones at christmas time?
Say jack frost and the hooded crow.
Now as the last broad oak leaf falls, we beg: consider this ---
Theres some who have no coin to save for turkey, wine or gifts.
No childrens laughter round the fire, no family left to know.
So lend a warm and a helping hand ---
Say jack frost and the hooded crow.
As holly pricks and ivy clings,
Your fate is none too clear.
The lord may find you wanting, let your good fortune disappear.
All homely comforts blown away and all thats left to show
Is to share your joy at christmas time
With jack frost and the hooded crow.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seaside At Winter
It's amazing to watch the frost's work.
It made the sea side a fairy tale.
The frost's quirk made the sea not for a sail.
The silence is all around.
For a while the time stands still.
The seagulls can't swill.
Like in the realm of Antarctica
Throughout the frost, snow and ice
I see the beauty of a paradise.
But! In the next few moments
The spring will come spelling the frost.
The nature's fulfillment will be the most.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Night frost
Night frost
~
I watch through the window
The night frost roll out
Encasing the world slowly
Plants wither away
Gardens turn white
Parked cars sink beneath
The white tapestry of winter
A beautiful savagery
Emerges before my eyes
The night frost is unforgiving
Yet captivates me
I watch through a window
In sleepless fascination
The beauty of a world
In transformation
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Simplocity appeals to me for M lady Catrina
All I can see from my window.
A vast expanse of fallen snow,
Unmarked as yet by wheel or feet
As perfect as a laundered sheet.
Reflecting back the pale moonlight
in shades of silver blue and white.
This will not last it cannot do
it will marred by tyre and shoe.
At first light when the morning breaks
and all the sleeping world awakes
To make their way reluctantly
to office shop and factory.
Although the falling snow has stopped
the temperature still has not dropped
The snow will turn from white to gray
and very slowly melt away
Just for tonight the pristine white
will satisfy my appetite
for unadorned simplicity
There’s beauty in austerity.
22-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Frost
Upon waking, I pad softly over to my window,
And look out, at the wintry world, down below.
Many of the things which are within my sight,
Are covered with a thin coating of pure white.
I hear car engines running, and ice being scrapped away,
As neighbours nearby, prepare for another working day.
Through the gap, between the houses, stood nearby,
I see a bright patch of beautiful, peach coloured sky.
With icing sugar, the world appears to have been sprinkled.
In the morning sunlight, millions of minute crystals twinkle.
With dazzling diamonds, pavements seem to have been encrusted;
But, my, once sure, footing upon them, can no longer be trusted.
As I walk along the pavement, my feet slide and slip;
It is much more difficult now, to get a really good grip.
My pace, this morning, is much slower than my norm;
I tread much more warily, on this crisp, cold, frosty morn.
Only the very hardiest of plants, will survive and linger,
As, across the land, wicked Jack Frost, points his finger.
Fine, feathery patterns, now decorate the window panes;
But, as beautiful as they are, sadly, they will not remain.
Where the sunlight shines, the frost crystals disappear first,
But, where the shadows fall, crystals take longer to disperse.
Slowly, but surely, the frost melts, as the day wears steadily on,
And, by midday, the last of the glistening crystals, will be gone.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Sunday Morning Silence
It is a December morning,
a Sunday morning silence has descended over all.
The street outside my window is quiet.
A frost has painted everything white.
Winter is now getting us in its grip.
I sit here quietly contemplating
at the brightness of this new day
as my breathe creates little mists
with every breathe I take
and the Sunday morning silence
hangs over everything
awaiting for things to wakeup
and greet another day.
7 December 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Frost
It's amazing to watch the frost's work.
It made the sea side a fairy tale.
The frost's quirk made the sea not for a sail.
The silence is all around.
For a while the time stands still.
The seagulls can't swill.
Like in the realm of Antarctica
Throughout the frost, snow and ice
I see the beauty of a paradise.
But! In the next few moments
The spring will come spelling the frost.
The nature's fulfillment will be the most.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 8th of February,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Sell Me A Coat
La la la la la la la la la la la la la
A winters day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward steps away
Jack frost took her hand and left me, jack frost aint so cool
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away
Not like before, her smile was warming yesterday
See the trees like silver candy, feel my icy hand
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
See my eyes, my window pane
See my tears like gentle rain
Thats the memory of a summer day
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
La la la la la la
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Courage
Today I opened wide my eyes,
And stared with wonder and surprise,
To see beneath November skies
An apple blossom peer;
Upon a branch as bleak as night
It gleamed exultant on my sight,
A fairy beacon burning bright
Of hope and cheer.
"Alas!" said I, "poor foolish thing,
Have you mistaken this for Spring?
Behold, the thrush has taken wing,
And Winter's near."
Serene it seemed to lift its head:
"The Winter's wrath I do not dread,
Because I am," it proudly said,
"A Pioneer.
"Some apple blossom must be first,
With beauty's urgency to burst
Into a world for joy athirst,
And so I dare;
And I shall see what none shall see -
December skies gloom over me,
And mock them with my April glee,
And fearless fare.
"And I shall hear what none shall hear -
The hardy robin piping clear,
The Storm King gallop dark and drear
Across the sky;
And I shall know what none shall know -
The silent kisses of the snow,
The Christmas candles' silver glow,
Before I die.
"Then from your frost-gemmed window pane
One morning you will look in vain,
My smile of delicate disdain
No more to see;
But though I pass before my time,
And perish in the grale and grime,
Maybe you'll have a little rhyme
To spare for me."
poem by Robert William Service
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Outside Your Window
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel the seconds slowly pass,
Whilst you I anxiously await.
And behind the glowing glass;
I glimpsed a fading candlelight.
And I with hope was filled and so:
Wished I for love and life this night.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I see through the looking glass,
To find my missing soulmate.
And when the light finally flew;
When darkness swamped the room:
A wide smile on my face drew;
And waited I for you to bloom.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel my feelings all amass,
As I your beauty contemplate.
Seconds felt forever;
Nor beauty I did see.
All alone my eyes did glitter;
Whilst wondering where you would be!
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I walked on in your impasse;
Wishing it's not yet too late.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I lonesome stood for long alas!
And didn't notice your window grate.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I tried to drag out of that morass,
Myself; and my lost senses locate.
Outside Her Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I watched my heart swiftly by a lass,
Gets stolen; and did my soul sedate.
Outside Her Window;
I still pass by everyday.
Outside Her Window;
I can't just turn and walk away.
Outside Her Window;
I still have hope that she might show.
Outside Her Window;
I watch my life pass by so slow.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I once awaited you alone all night.
But now I know: it's just too late!
poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd
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