Frigid Shift
Snow like no one has seen before.
Piled high in plowed drifts,
To sit against blocked doors.
Artic tops with warm air mixed...
Gathers moisture to dropp flakes,
Unstopping in this fix!
Coming as it does,
In this frigid shift!
Those in cities and rural towns alike,
Witness changes...
Of a plight in their sight!
What is now ocurring,
Did not stir up overnight.
Can Mother Nature be appeased,
To again be pleased and make things right?
Or are we so ignorant...
To choose excuses,
Over the use of insight!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Winterval for M 'lady Ernestine.
The whirling swirling flakes of snow.
Fall silently but ceaselessly.
Creating havoc here below.
Mother Nature intends to show
The human race that they can see
The whirling swirling flakes of snow.
Wherever they may choose to go.
She demonstrates this ruthlessly
Creating havoc here below.
What traffic moves is crawling slow.
As drivers find it hard to see.
The whirling swirling flakes of snow
Reflect their headlights pallid glow.
Reducing visibility
Creating havoc here below.
Assisted by the winds that blow
at intervals quite randomly.
The whirling swirling flakes of snow
creating havoc here below.
Tuesday,30 November 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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All is withdrawn, in awe of Nature’s might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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Snowbow
A pitter-patter of flakey snow
North-eastern winds whip past and blow
No moisture in the air; a steady flow
Enough surely to make a snowbow?
Hurry up, look out toward the west
At the snowbow hanging in the sky
You'll be amazed at the reason why.
Windy days and snow combined is best
Always cause further flurries to fly
Reflecting back on cloudbanks up high
Drifts of pure snow tied in a bow.
poem by Rosanna Miller
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No Longer Will They Choose to Be Abused
Rescued from sleaze and teasing.
Once bottled up in guilt and shame...
And clamped to pain,
As a goal one chose to pursue and aim.
Fused to booze like a loser,
With no hope or faith to gain.
Remaining desperately afraid...
And a named glued to making mistakes.
Refusing to take any blame,
Or claim to feel a struggle with heartbreak.
Untied...
And let loose,
From excuses.
Overnight...
Many had been bitten,
By insight!
A light shown on their lives!
To beam ever bright!
And a cloak from their emotions...
Took a hike from inside!
Untied...
And let loose,
From excuses.
Overnight...
Many had been bitten,
By insight!
A light shown on their lives!
To beam ever bright!
And a cloak from their emotions...
Took a hike from inside!
And no longer will they choose to be abused,
Or pay a price for a ride...
They don't like!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Snow Flakes
as i look out of my window i see snow flakes
blowing all around landing gently on the ground.
the falling flakes set my heart all aglow.
as it makes a blanket of pure white snow.
creating such a beautiful sight.
the snow just like a heart can be gentle to the touch
yet! cold as ice.
if you plan on playing with it you better think twice.
the heart is the most complex part of the human body
it controls the entire anatomy.
so as the snow trickles down and creates a picture of purity.
and its coldness touches my bones
in my heart grows the warmth of a fire
with all of its desire.
to melt the coldness in your heart
just so you could see.
even the coldest of hearts can belong to me.
but when you want true beauty look up to the sky.
it is not the snow flakes coming down
but the love of god which is all around.
poem by Louis Rams
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When It Falls, It Falls All Over You
Selling papers on the corner,
I saw a man yesterday.
I asked him if hed wanna
Tell me what made him this way.
He said, when its born, its warm,
Then it gathers strength in lies,
When it falls, it falls all over you.
He used to pick his friends.
They left him in the end.
An easy thing to lose,
The right to pick and choose.
When its born, its warm,
Then it gathers strength in lies,
When it falls, it falls all over you.
He said he left his wife,
The back-bone of his life.
Another came along,
But now I guess shes gone.
When its born, its warm,
Then it gathers strength in lies,
When it falls, it falls all over you.
I think I used to see
That old man on tv,
Can you be the same?
It seems like such a shame.
When its born, its warm,
Then it gathers strength in lies,
When it falls, it falls all over you.
The world he thought he knew,
Has better things to do.
As I went on my way
I thought I heard him say:
When its born, its warm,
Then it gathers strength in lies,
When it falls, it falls all over you.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Silence
The silence of the night
is the winters delight
snow that muffles the sounds
are billions of snow flakes
compacting down.
See that snow flake coming down
I will catch it on my tongue
and it will dissapear, melting
and it will be done.
The beauty of a single snow flake
as you can see, under a microscope
is unique as you'll agree
Not two are alike nope there will never be
another as unique like, you or me.
poem by Ron Schmidt
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Mother Nature She Will Survive
I feel that we live off of Mother Nature and that to Mother Nature we belong
And if we bite at the hand that feeds us then to ourselves we are doing wrong
Another war now almost certain and more huge bombs will be dropped from the sky
And Mother Nature she will suffer and some of her human children will die.
Harm we do unto others unto our own selves we do
And in these times those words are relevant and those words as ever ring true
Those who dropp bombs on distant cities a part of the Planet destroy
And the words what we do unto others to them more than any apply.
Those who order the bombings of foreign cities may think to themselves it's okay
To destroy a small part of the Planet in a Country from them far away
But we all breathe the same air and the big bombs poison and pollute
And for everyone the price is big when Nature we persecute.
To Mother Nature who feeds us all, mankind cause much offence
And that we damage her by bombing her makes very little sense
And another war is looming if we believe all we hear
But Mother Nature she will survive though mankind may disappear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Easter Snow
Easter is a time
for change, sunshine,
but where's the sun
as I look out my,
window this easter
morning, what is this
I see, not more snow,
rain is ok, but
snow no, snow I
thought I had seen
the last of you,
but you just keep
coming, so white
is the ground as
snow flakes keep
falling and falling.
They say if it
rains easter sunday,
for seven sundays
we shall have rain.
Does this mean
that now for seven
sundays we shall have
snow falling on us?
Sun last few weeks
you have been so
kind to us, please
pay us a visit,
once again and
bring comfort to
these old bones of
mine once again.
They say we need
the moisture, so
rain wake up and
please fall on us, once again.
(4-8-07)
Sonnet: The Place for Hermits
Why hermits choose to live alone so high?
Why saints choose forests for building their huts?
By keeping off cities, crowds bring God nigh;
Such decisions require real guts.
In solitude, one realizes God;
In silence, Nature’s beauty is felt more;
The mountain-tops, clouds look like God’s abode;
The wild berries and streams form main food-store.
And time ticks slowly while the air is clean;
An ideal place for meditations oft;
The flora, fauna form a splendid scene;
The voice of Mother Nature is heard soft.
Such environs help saints do yogic feats;
To control breathing, mind and all heart beats.
9-9-2002
poem by John Celes
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Speakin' O' Christmas
BREEZES blowin' middlin' brisk,
Snow-flakes thro' the air a-whisk,
Fallin' kind o' soft an' light,
Not enough to make things white,
But jest sorter siftin' down
So's to cover up the brown
Of the dark world's rugged ways
'N' make things look like holidays.
Not smoothed over, but jest specked,
Sorter strainin' fur effect,
An' not quite a-gittin' through
What it started in to do.
Mercy sakes! it does seem queer
Christmas day is 'most nigh here.
Somehow it don't seem to me
Christmas like it used to be,—
Christmas with its ice an' snow,
Christmas of the long ago.
You could feel its stir an' hum
Weeks an' weeks before it come;
Somethin' in the atmosphere
Told you when the day was near,
Didn't need no almanacs;
That was one o' Nature's fac's.
Every cottage decked out gay —
Cedar wreaths an' holly spray —
An' the stores, how they were drest,
Tinsel tell you couldn't rest;
Every winder fixed up pat,
Candy canes, an' things like that;
Noah's arks, an' guns, an' dolls,
An' all kinds o' fol-de-rols.
Then with frosty bells a-chime,
Slidin' down the hills o' time,
Right amidst the fun an' din
Christmas come a-bustlin' in,
Raised his cheery voice to call
Out a welcome to us all.
Hale and hearty, strong an' bluff,
That was Christmas, sure enough.
Snow knee-deep an' coastin' fine,
Frozen mill-ponds all ashine,
Seemin' jest to lay in wait,
Beggin' you to come an' skate.
An' you'd git your gal an' go
Stumpin' cheerily thro' the snow,
Feelin' pleased an' skeert an' warm
'Cause she had a-holt yore arm.
Why, when Christmas come in, we
Spent the whole glad day in glee,
Havin' fun an' feastin' high
An' some courtin' on the sly.
Bustin' in some neighbor's door
An' then suddenly, before
He could give his voice a lift,
Yellin' at him, 'Christmas gift.'
Now sich things are never heard,
'Merry Christmas' is the word.
But it's only change o' name,
An' means givin' jest the same.
There's too many new-styled ways
Now about the holidays.
I'd jest like once more to see
Christmas like it used to be!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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When The Snow Came
The snow started here, at about half past four;
Lightly, at first, but then it fell more and more.
Upon spying the first few flakes, I rushed to the shop;
The snow began to settle, but I hoped that it may stop.
But it continued to fall, creating a blanket of white;
Till snowflakes coated everything within my sight.
By nightfall, the world was bathed in an eerie glow,
Created by the bright reflection of the fallen snow.
Against the orange glow of a nearby street light,
I could see flakes falling, and swirling in flight.
Overnight, heavy snow had been forecast to fall,
But, luckily, for us, we had no extra snow at all.
I awoke in the morning, and saw patches of green,
And clear rectangles, where parked cars had been.
The snow was not half as bad, as I had anticipated;
I knew the snow would soon melt, and I felt elated.
The day brightened up and, very soon, the sun shone;
In almost no time at all, much of the snow was gone.
By midday, we were well into the very welcome thaw;
I’m hoping that, for a while, we won’t have any more.
Snow can create many amazing, picturesque scenes,
But walking through it, when it’s icy, I’m not so keen.
Whenever snow is predicted, I feel panic in my heart,
And I feel glad whenever the snow decides to depart.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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With A Finding Discovered
I doubt very seriously if my strides taken...
To want to motivate others to desire success,
Had been made more for them a priority...
Instead of something they did to see me pleased,
Or whatever that is done people do to appease...
Would I have adopted an inspiration,
To dropp them as my main activity.
With an applying all my focus done now,
As I do...
Upon doing my best.
To achieve without further wasting my time.
With a finding discovered,
Others only choose to make for themselves...
Excuses to accomplish as if to me to be defiant.
Nonsense embraced is inescapable these days.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Deadlock
Mother! Tell me what is behind those doors
Late father averred there is a treasure
A microcosm of whole world’s splendour
An extravagent elegence of nature’s allure
But warned me not to open the doors
Unless and untill I am doubly sure
Mother wept and said, “It is a deadlock
By blunders of your forefathers; did choke”
Mother tell me what is behind those doors
I hear deadly thunders, shrieks and shouts
And plangent whimpers of unseen spirits
I smell something noisome and nausiating
As if coming from a mass burning of pyres
Whenever I look at those queer doors
My heart hammers with unknown terror
Why mother? Why? Tell me! Why?
What is behind those doors?
She sobbed and sobbed with wild shiver
And said, “It is our own Kashmir! ! ! ”
poem by Sathya Narayana
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After the Interval
About three months ago, when first
Upon our open, unprotected
And freezing garden snowstorms burst
In sudden fury, I reflected
That I would shut myself away
And in seclusion write a section
Of winter poems, day by day,
To supplement my spring collection.
But nonsense piled up mountain-high,
Like snow-drifts hindering and stifling
And half the winter had gone by,
Against all hopes, in petty trifling.
I understood, alas, too late
Why winter-while the snow was falling,
Piercing the darkness with its flakes-
From outside at my house was calling;
And while with numb white-frozen lips
It whispered, urging me to hurry,
I sharpened pencils, played with clips,
Made feeble jokes and did not worry.
While at my desk I dawdled on
By lamp-light on an early morning,
The winter had appeared and gone-
A wasted and unheeded warning.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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The Old Pine Tree
'Listen my child,' said the old pine
tree, to the little one nestling near,
'For the storm clouds troop together to-night,
and the wind of the north I hear
And perchance there may come some echo of
the music of long ago,
The music that rang when the White Host
sang, marching across the snow.'
'Up and away Saint George! up thro' the
mountain gorge,
Over the plain where the tempest blows, and
the great white flakes are flying
Down the long narrow glen! faster my merry
men,
Follow the trail, tho' shy moon hides, and
deeply the drifts are lying.'
'Ah! mother.' the little pine tree replied,
'you are dreaming again to-night
Of ghostly visions and phantom forms that for-
ever mock your sight
'Tis true moan of the winter wind comes
to my list'ning ear
But the White Host marching, I cannot see,
and their music I cannot hear.'
'When the northern skies were all aflame
where the trembling banners swung,
When up in the vaulted heavens the moon of
the Snow Shoe hung,
When the hurricane swept the hillside, and the
crested drifts ran high
Those were the nights,' said the old pine tree,
'the great White Host marched by.'
And the storm grew fiercer, fiercer, and the
snow went hissing past,
But the little pine tree still listened, till she
heard above the blast
The music her mother loved to hear in the
nights of the long ago
And saw in the forest the white-clad Host
marching across the snow.
And loud they sang as they tramped along of
the glorious bygone days
Whan valley and hill re-echeoed the snow-
shoer's hymn of praise
Till the shy moon gazed down smiling, and the
north wind pause to hear
And the old pine tree felt young again as the
little one nestling near.
'Up and away Saint George! up thro' the
mountain gorge.
Over the plain where the tempest blows, and
the great white flakes are flying.
Down the long narrow glen! faster my merry
men.
Follow the trail, tho' the shy moon hides, and
deeply the drifts are lying.'
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Winds Of Wyoming
Have you ever heard the wind
blowing across the plains?
Moving and stacking snow
in drifts across the lane
Have you heard the wind howling
like a wolf baying at the moon?
It's an eerie and unnerving feeling
making up its melodious tune
Have you ever watched the trees
bending to and fro in the wind?
Leaves blow off and scatter around
it's mother nature who has sinned
Have you heard the windows rattle
as the wind blows through the cracks?
The draft blows under each of the doors
it's coming in from the back
The wind is part of our landscape
and it's with us most everyday
But we love Wyoming wind that's true
it's ours and we're here to stay
poem by Louise Davis
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Keep Them Coming
Keep them coming.
Insults you believe leaves me taunted.
Keep them coming.
It is you,
Not me who collects.
A lifetime of hauntings.
Unable to sleep,
From those misdeeds planted.
Keep them coming.
Insults you believe leaves me taunted.
I am not visited by mysterious shadows.
Appearing.
To stir within me unspeakable fear.
With attempts to keep blocked,
On the other side of locked doors.
No peace is yours.
It is you,
Not me who collects.
A lifetime of hauntings.
Keep them coming.
Insults you believe leaves me taunted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Overnight Observation
(j. farrar/t. snow)
Looks like Im the only one here
Even the nurse is gone
But I guess I should wait cause when she left, she said
The doctor wont be long
So make yourself at home
His office is down the hall
Why do I feel uneasy?
I know he must be good
Got credentials all over the wall
I hear a voice behind me say
What seems to be the trouble, my dear?
Wont you be kind enough to step over here
It might be fever
It might be flu
To isolate it, Ill have to hold you
Overnight (observation)
Overnight (observation)
In my opinion
All we can do to isolate it
Ill hold you overnight (observation)
Overnight (observation)
Please dont think me ungrateful
But holding me overnight
Seems a little extreme
Do you always serve martinis
And turn the lights down low
Doctor, do your colleagues know?
Although you say its good for me
I really dont feel like dancing now
Somebodys waiting
And Im double-parked anyhow
It might be fever
It might be flu
To isolate it, Ill have to hold you
Overnight (observation)
Overnight (observation)
In my opinion
All we can do to isolate it
Ill hold you overnight (observation)
Overnight (observation)
Now, I may look stupid
But Ill tell you what, Ive been around a long time
And I thought I had heard everything
I tell you, they keep coming up with them
I just couldnt believe my ears when he said:
Kick off your shoes, relax my dear
Slip into something comfortable
Two seconds flat, Im out the door and down the hall
It might be fever
It might be flu
To isolate it, Ill have to hold you
Overnight (observation)
Overnight (observation)
In my opinion
All we can do to isolate it
Ill hold you overnight (observation)
Overnight (observation)
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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