My two seasons
Glacial braids paralyze the silver time
Bearing that frost coming seemingly
From the North Star
Ceremonial clouds enwind the light
Of the very frigid sun
The gelid wind creeps up its spine
The lifeless forest highlands its somberness
The dusky frozen autumn
Like a decrescent moon in the eclipse
Suffers the ignominy of being left behind
In the faintly confused history
The nature can wait the winter to come
Dressed in her refulgent white
For restoring her sovereignty
Like a queen with blue heart and icy tears
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Winter Flowers
Winter flowers bloom
Like light shining through dark
Growing in untouchable desolation
Icicles hang
Glinting in the morning light
Frozen decorations
Coming each year
Chilling nights
Below a silver moon
The restless howls
Of a spiteful wind
With frozen beauty everywhere
Yet looking forward to spring
poem by Autumn Winds
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In Winter's Arms
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane.
Subdued by touch of winter's frigid hand,
I pray for spring to find me once again.
O'wind, you whistle to the winter's tune.
Your melody is heard 'pon day and night,
but one day spring will come to rescue me,
and wisk away your song of winter's blight.
O'tree, you're frozen in the winter's dream.
Your leaves have left you 'neath a moon of white,
but when my prayers are answered 'pon spring's dawn,
you'll thaw beneath its sun with warm delight.
O'field, your harvest has been reaped and spent ~
and winter blankets you 'neath snowy mounds.
Yet one day soon in springtime's rising mist
you'll feel the greening of your earth rebound.
Winter holds me with his arms of icy white,
and kissed my breath with frost upon the pane ~
but deep within I somehow always know,
that spring will come and find me once again.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Winter's Tale
As the winter's moon appears in front of me
I feel the wind rushing through my hair
The bright shiny sky glistens in my eyes.
I feel the waves reaching out to me
It feels like the thrill of electricity
Spreading through my body
Winter is coming
I can not wait any longer
The old grandfather clock
Gets louder and louder
Tick tock Tick tock
My heart is getting faster and faster
Winter hears my whisper
As the bluish moon light calls today
Please catch my wishing star
The winter's moon is fading
From my mist
My heart speed is slowing down
The old grandfather clock
Get fainter and fainter
Tick tock Tick tock
Winter is coming
I can not wait any longer
I feel in beat with the winter's frost.
poem by Imogen Brand
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Autumn Is Coming
Autumn is coming
With gentle breezes
And howling winds
Autumn is coming
To change the colors
To red, brown, and gold
Upon the forest floor
Will lie the leaves of all the trees
When Autumn is here
When the days cool
And the nights grow long
With a bright silver moon in the sky
When the sleepiness sets in
We will sleep until
Winter breaks
Autumn is coming
poem by Autumn Winds
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The Killing Frost
There is an enchantment in the Killing Frost
It's the most magical night of the year
When the abundant blooms of Summer
Are put to sleep by Frost's frozen tears.
The Killing Frost arrives here silently
Flying in ahead of Winter's incoming wrath
Covering all things that are of the earth
Putting to sleep all flora in her path.
As the late Autumn sun sinks below the horizon
On this Special Night of the year
Plants which were all alive this past morn will be no more
It's time to make way for Winter's Cheer.
Everything Frost kisses will be put to eternal repose
Adorned by Frost's magical breath during the night
All will be dripping in Diamonds in the Morn
With which to dazzle by soft Morning's light.
Winter will be arriving shortly now
And Frost will take her leave
To make way for fluttering snowflakes
Which will come to dance during the long Winter's Eve.
poem by Christine A Kysely (29 December 2010)
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The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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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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Feuilles D'Automne
Gather the leaves from the forest
And blow them over the world,
The wind of winter follows
The wind of autumn furled.
Only the beech tree cherishes
A leaf or two for ruth,
Their stems too tough for the tempest,
Like thoughts of love and of youth.
You may sit by the fire and ponder
While darkness veils the pane,
And fear that your memories are rushing away
In the wind and the rain.
But you'll find them in the quiet
When the clouds race with the moon,
Making the tender silver sound
Of a beech in the month of June.
For you cannot rob the memory
Of the leaves it loves the best;
The wind of time may harry them,
It rushes away with the rest.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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My Heart's In The Highlands
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
poem by Robert Burns
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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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Wine by the Fire on a Cold Winter Night
Wine by the fire on a cold winter night a Gelid concordant. The snows of winter has fallen; and the
Winds are decrescent
Wildlife are
Indefatigable
In
Winter-land
Wine by the fire on a cold winter night. Monumental snows are glaciated; and the
Valleys below are elongated
In an alabaster,
Powdery
Splendor.
Engaging winter, where polar bears are denning
And accumbented in a long
Winter sleep. Winter's prelusory; for the translucent amber,
Gild, of autumn to a dulcify
In their joining. As we dine epicurean, in the comforts of clover;
And bonivant on tasty
Wines.
Wine by the fire on a cold winter night as we
Amorously commingle as one in A fervent that's
Second to None And the taste of
Wine by the fire on a cold winter
Night.
poem by Jr. J. Thomas
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New England Winter
Testing the soul's mettle,
the frost heaves
holes in the roads
to the heart,
the glass forest
raises up its branches
to praise all things
that catch the light
then melt.
The forest floor is white,
but here & there a boulder rises
with its glacial arrogance
& brooks that bubble
under the sheets of ice
remind us that the tundra of the soul
will soften
just a little
towards the spring.
poem by Erica Jong
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An April Day
When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.
I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
From the earth's loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold,
The drooping tree revives.
The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.
When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.
And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.
Inverted in the tide
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.
Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Earlier Poems : An April Day
When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.
I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
From the earth's loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold,
The drooping tree revives.
The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.
When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.
And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.
Inverted in the tide
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.
Sweet April! many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Thoughts
When I am all alone
Envy me most,
Then my thoughts flutter round me
In a glimmering host;
Some dressed in silver,
Some dressed in white,
Each like a taper
Blossoming light;
Most of them merry,
Some of them grave,
Each of them lithe
As willows that wave;
Some bearing violets,
Some bearing bay,
One with a burning rose
Hidden away --
When I am all alone
Envy me then,
For I have better friends
Than women and men.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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The Last Remaining Light
Roll me on your frozen fields
Break my bones to watch them heal
Drown me in your thirsty veins
Where I watch and I wait
And pray for the rain
Curl like smoke
And breathe again
Down your throat
Inside your ribs
And through your spine
And every nerve
Where I watch and I wait
And you too the herd
And if you dont feel me now
Sun will rise
Still Im in grief of the coming night
In the last remaining light
Seven moons and seven suns
Heaven waits for tose who run
Down your winter and underneith your waves
When you watch and you wait
And pray for the day
And if you dont believe the sun will rise
Stand alone and greet the coming night
And in the last remaining light
And if you dont believe the sun will rise
Stand alone and greet the coming night
And in the last remaining light
Light
Light
Light
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And Winter Comes Again
The spicy condimental smell
Of crushed Autumn leaves
Faint distant cries
As from damned souls
Whisper from the trees
Skeletal limbs…in gelid winds
Grasping desperately
For things they cannot see
And spirits unconsigned
To either heaven or hell
Roam earth eternally
The lead ochre gleam
Of frozen stream
Hard and spare as flint
Light crystal path
with winter’s gleam
Imbued with glacial glint
Winds with razored
edges keen
Shave shapeless drifts
To ghostly forms
Spare and mean
Gives souls pause
To shrink and shrivel
In fond membrance of summer
And then
Commence into acquiescence
to icy caresses
And surrenders to winter
again
poem by David Whalen
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On the clouds, having my walk..
Carefully, I step on clouds
Trying to keep self very light.
I let the air to freely flow
Am deeply breathing
Nice.. and.. slow.
Hard to feel the air, it barely moves
Where is the wind? It doesn't blow!
Warm and powerless
I feel so light
That clouds are moving me
From the left, .. to the right
Letting things happen,
I do not fight.
Happily follow my clouds
Walk, jump, run and roll on white white
fluffy clouds
All of a sudden everything stops.
Me too:
I watch the blue bue sky
And slowly raise and open wide
my palms.
Inside,
The left one
eyes opened
My King once a Prince
The right palm
my treasured little princess
almost a Queen..
Amazed, but not afraid
They look around and smile.
Why? ! ?
Because they know,
I won't let go.
poem by Elena Sandu
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Homeward Bound
I’m going home tomorrow
by the cold grey light of dawn.
On my motorbike tomorrow
if I can beat the stirring storm.
Down cold long straights of asphalt
until mystique mountain pass.
I’m going home tomorrow
I’m homeward bound a last.
The wind! It whistles through me
icicle stabbing chilling cords
it plays along sprung spine.
Cheeks like glazed ice
nose numb and blue
from frigid mountain air.
Crisp and fresh this morning
this newborn winter’s day.
The stillness frozen
to a depth beyond mute ear.
Swerving round razored corners
leaning into wicked bends
picking off cramped cars
I’m glad that I’m not in.
Ice on the road now
black ice up ahead
just one mistake now
and I could be dead.
Riding on my luck
steadily slowing down
it’s my experiential skill alone
that kept me off cruel ground.
A hawk soars above me
she guides me on my way
white clouds puffed around her
in honour of this day.
The white lines race toward me
the fence posts flash on past
the crunch of gravel under tyres
I’m homeward bound at last.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Spring Is Gone
As the coldness creeps closer
The bitterness begins to grow
The sun left us alone
Now that spring is gone
The air grows heavy
The frost eats up my skin
Flowers died on this ongoing trend
Winter has finally come
The Moon gain power over the day
He puts the sun to shame
The trees will lose their souls
Winter has a heavy toll
I am reaching for the sky
For the stars that will always shine
And wish on a shooting star that spring
Will awaken and come back to save me
Death rules this time of year
And drifts away
Living souls shall shed a tear
Winter is filled with sorrow
The sun will never shine
Upon whom winter wrath, will be taken
Everyone will be forsaken
On this oak pine
Spring left our world
Leaving us for freedom
We didn't treat spring right
We don't have the right to keep her
Winter has given us the punishment
And we shall take it
poem by Elisha De La Rosa
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