Cold and Deep
The end of civilization is to seek out and learn,
Never and never does the snow hiss or walk
Like us, for we crawl and hurl from it.
It is the cloud that is the spiritual center,
The importance of flesh has disappeared,
Foolish breath has eventually worked.
Cold and deep was the shop called blood,
My only sound ran away,
The following day he claimed a joy.
Shop for the sudden belonging,
Far-off the windows are shut and open,
Touching is too much beginning.
My young man matters to the born,
And he parked along the black roads,
Melted by the snow you certainly watch.
My claim he cast aside,
Now that the birth of brown beards
Arose from the jungles and forests.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Doomed City
Of this doomed city is my shop of heavy faces,
What matters is ice and snow and cold;
For the following day created a pale service,
As the claims were, over the city streets.
I called it Neverness, the importance of the flesh,
And I nodded for I slipped below the surface;
The claims weren’t obsolete but they were sad,
Like the guts of the place, the guts of the taste.
That thought was somehow important,
To immerse yourself in the dolls of thirst;
Grasping at gifts and golf and fog,
In order to speak to the onlookers.
poem by Naveed Akram
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As Time Goes By
In our town there were many small shops, one selling
buttons the other socks; and a hardware store should
you need a hammer and nails to hang up a picture of
your mother -in- law, in the living room.
There was also a shop selling scarves, another selling
ladies hats, and a third one, quite posh, selling suits and
ties. I mustn’t forget the shoe shop, leather footwear
black or brown and white tennis shoes.
In our street of trade most shops have shut, those still
open are run by the Orientals where you can buy all
you need for a very small price. If your shoes wear out,
no point going to the old cobbler, buy Chinese instead.
Red lanterns sway in the fiscal breeze of decline where
wistfulness has no price tag. But you must remember
this, a shop is just a shop, yet, for us sentimental fools,
are remembered as a sweet memory of times gone by,
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Empty Streets
The town is quiet, empty
Street lights cast shadows
In doorways and windows
Curtains drawn, people sleeping
A night rain is falling fast
Through the amber halos of street lights
Lighting the roads and pathways
There is not a soul to be seen or heard
The parked cars line up colourless
The dull reflection of a shop window
Offers little comfort in passing
A stray cat sits ahead in some shade
Staring intent before running away
Into the empty night gone
What little wind there is, cold
A car passes, unknown passengers
The temporary warming light
Soon gone disappeared
Hand fishing for keys in pockets
Through a door into shade
The empty streets replaced
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Walk on the Snow
It feels cold inside
when people cannot break the stillness
when human tongues revolve
around cars, TV and food
when the painful silence
is deep deep in the human heart.
I walk out of this coldness inside
away from the comforts and heating
installations in the house
away from the speed and heat of a car.
I simply walk on the field
looking at the vast space of emptiness
treading on the snow,
the snow that has
covered the grasses.
It gives me a deep sense of joy
that the walk to turn away
from coldness inside
becomes a walk with the Lord.
I walk with God on the snow.
Cars pass me by
Houses stand in the stillness
of their comforts.
I continue walking until
my exposed ears, hands and feet ache.
I walk with God on the snow
and I understand why people
fear the cold.
The Lord himself walks with me
on the snow and on the cold inside me
on the snow that covers the gound
on the snow that hurts and frightens.
But such a time of journeying
with God on the snow
becomes a cleansing and a healing
just as from the ground
the green will be reborn in spring.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Snowy Hills
Ah, the winter snow has come at last!
Ah, the sounds of battle finally cease!
Gently, I creak open the door,
Only to see,
The blood of our troops,
In deep pools of maroon,
Staining the snow,
That beautiful knee deep snow,
Many men lay dying,
As I stand by,
Just watching,
Many others seek shelter in their homes,
From that horrible sight,
Of limp bodies,
Yet I feel nothing.
poem by Cheyenne Baughman
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New York Winter
New York Winter
Upon seeing the weather on TV, I noticed in your area
Your weather outside is dreadful But here it's so delightful
So because you've no place to go, watch it snow, watch it snow, watch it snow
It doesn't show signs of quittin You know you're stuck there just a sittin
Guess you could let the lights go low
Save some electric and watch it snow, snow, snow
It's gonna be 72 here today Why'd anyone stay up your way?
You need to find another place to go
Where there isn't any snow, any snow, any snow
Come visit, we have room with a view
Something you'll see that is new
With grass that one doesn't have to mow
And there's no snow, there's no snow, there's no snow
Jim 2008
poem by James Casey
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In The Snow
in the snow i walk looking at everything coated in beautiful white
thoughts run through my head so many i cannot count
as i watch the snow fall i realize that its as beautiful as life itself
as i watch the snow fall i think of her and how i wish she could be beside me to see what i see just one last time
i cant help but wonder if she thought of me
in the snow there is something in the air i know i feel it so nice
there is something about the snow and the air that makes me think of you
as i get where i want to go
and step inside
snowflakes fall gentally off my hood
as i pound my feet the snow falls off and i become warm
the snow and ice that clazes me melts and falls
i know i will have to walk in the snow again
poem by Sandy Vanity
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Avenue Of Love
(9/24/12)
Love is an avenue of which to explore
Go to any shop and open the door
Shops for every feeling known to man
Walk in to understand.
Shops for pain, sorrow, bitterness and heartbreak
Shop around - it's not to late.
Shops for joy, happiness, contentment, devotion
Shops for every emotion.
Stop in - look around - feel every emotion
That can be found.
Shop around ahead of time
To find out what awaits down the line.
But do not be fearful of pains
That may await
Take the chance - don't hesitate.
You can search every shop that's on this street
But there is nothing that can compete
To the love that you have deep inside
A love so beautiful that you can not hide
All these shops are in your soul
Open the doors and life unfolds.
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
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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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Spiritual City
Spiritual thought
Spiritual life
Spiritual city
Spiritual wife
Spiritual work
Spiritual war
Spiritual people
Spiritual law
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Spiritual call
Spiritual tie
Spiritual seeker
Spiritual high
Spiritual need
Spiritual thirst
Spiritual beauty
Spiritual birth
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Spiritual child
Spiritual man
Spiritual power
Spiritual land
Spiritual love
Spiritual rage
Spiritual vision
Spiritual age
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Open your eyes and let em shine !
Everybodys born to do a certain thing
And if youre dead jammy you find it.
And if youre good at it just keep doing it
Until youre fed up then do something else.
Youre here to make babies and look after the place.
You know ? (billy connolly)
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Video Shop
The local factorys been pulled down
By an overseas corporation
Now all of my brothers are looking around
For alternative occupation
I was sitting by the telly with my brother, kenny
When suddenly the penny dropped
While all of my brothers are sitting at home
Ive got a bank loan and Ive opened up my very own
Video shop
Video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
Comedy and tragedy are all sitting on my shelf
And if youve got a fantasy
For a small rental fee
You can set yourself free
At my video shop
At my video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
At the video shop
Let me fly, fly you away
From all of the depression in you head
Caused by all the living in the red
Ive got a bootleg version of citizen kane
A second hand copy of psycho
Ive taped them off the telly so you shouldnt complain
And theres no guarantee youll get your money back again
From my video shop
My video shop
If you want to escape, I can rent you a tape
To relieve your situation
If you feel a bit low, I got a good peep show
cos everybody knows almost anything goes
At my video shop
At my video shop
One fifty a day and Ill fly, fly you away
Its nothing to pay to fly far, far away
I can help you through that lonely night
Ive got technicolour, black and white
I can guide you through those empty days
Make you smile and take your blues away
O let me fly you away
At my video shop
Fly, fly you away
Another factorys been knocked down
But nobody ever complains
And all of my brothers are customers now
We all play video games
I can see it in the eyes of all the lonely wives
If theyre bored and they feel like a change
I do sales, rentals, even a swop
And if you feel like a change, well it can all be arranged
At my video shop
At my video shop
At my video shop
At my video shop
Let me fly, fly you away
And everyone who walks in through that door
Has got something that theyre looking for
At my video shop
At my video shop
At the video shop
I can fly, fly you away
At the video shop
Let me fly, fly you away
Oh, at the video shop
Oh, at the video shop
Oh, at the video shop
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Down the Sweet Shop
The little corner shop
full of special treats
Chocolate, bottles of Pop,
and jars and jars of sweets.
With pocket money in hand
given to me by my Dad
sometimes a little bit extra
if he heard I'd been a good lad.
I really loved that little shop
it was every young boys dream
you could get everything you'd want
Football Cards, Toys, and Ice-Cream.
My dad used the shop as well
he'd pop in to buy his fags
and Mum did her weekly shop
she'd get me to help her with the bags.
Then along came the big supermarket
the little shop began to lose it's trade
so sadly it had to close it's doors
an end of an era again I'm afraid.
But I'll always remember the little shop
stood there at the bottom of our lane
yes it may have only been small
but it had more style than any supermarket chain!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Your shop door
I looked at the sign on your shop door
it didnt say open or closed
I tried the handle because I wasnt sure.
Thats why im here inside
Well that and the fact I want some sweats
my dad often goes to the Cafe
and they look at him when ever he eats
he takes a packed lunch
he sits on the seats
there was this one time when he got a punch
it was because he wasnt allowed to buy
they threw him out they give him a black eye
they spat on him and I never knew why.
I looked at the sign on your shop door
it didnt say open or closed
I tried the handle because I wasnt sure.
That cafe he entered was open
and he was not there when the window was broken
he just needed somewhere to sit on a rainy noon
an accent like his?
The roads were his only room.
They're tools? Knives, falks and spoons
His? a shovel, a graft, to dig out the root which so many hold onto.
I pass your shop every day thinking,
'Open or closed to enter I dont know if I want to'.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Night Lit Shop Windows
night sight I like
how easily I see
into shop windows
I like
how products
jump out
of shop windows
speak to me
in animated colours
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Shop, she shops!
Once she constantly smiled
Bought cloths and jewelry that gave her style
Shop, shop, shop
She shopped till she dropped
Shop, shop, shop
She just could not seem to stop
Her credit was on top
Her spending way rocket up
She paid with cash or credit card
This Lady was absolutely shopping mad
Shoping malls!
Markets stalls!
Shoes, clothing, and handbags she bought all year long
Spend, spend and spend daily was her beloved song
Shop, shop, shop
She now shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
This lady has now put a stop
Today is different shopping expedition
This time spending with supervision
No more that crazy spending addiction
Her credit card is cut
Her goods seized, the whole lot
Today she spends, her pockets hurt!
She has become street wise
Haggling with each price
She has become precise
About what she needs and not what is nice
Shop, shop, shop
She shops like a flop
Shop, shop, shop
Her spending has taken a big drop!
This lady has now put a stop to shop!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Thunderous Snow!
thunderous snow,
born o'er dark silent mountains;
the final prayer,
the last turn of the plow.
air frozen and heavy,
the wind shakes the bones,
the bare trees wait,
naked, and obedient.
time come and gone,
the memory of a kiss fades
into the deep stillness,
and the sleep of the soul.
cries of passion lost,
in the darkness so deep,
that ending and beginning are one!
the hunter stares,
his shadow twisted by moonlight,
the faint taste of flesh,
dried blood on his lips.
a few flurries, a drumbeat,
the wolf howls, no sound!
stillness wraps around fire,
the fields pray empty prayers.
thunderous snow,
love, and cosmos!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Be Windows To Be Shut
Don't open the windows!
Cold air will rush in.
Don't open the windows!
Hot air will blow in.
Don't open the windows!
Mosquitoes are there.
Don't open my history!
Treacheries will snare.
Don't open my memory!
Debaucheries will slip out.
Don't open my very eyes.
I should not be a witness.
Let the windows be shut;
With that the past buried.
Switch on the air-conditioner.
Spray on the bed perfume.
I must enjoy my night
With the world outside shut.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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First Snow Is A Lonely Thing
First snow
is a lonely
thing
First times
Forevers
Lovers
forgotten
beyond
the beyond
Once here
Now gone
First thought
of eventually
burns
Buried deep below
in seizures of snow
A thousand
snowflakes
deep
Blink
bright
across
this sea
Frozen
blue
Speak to me
Speak of you
This cold
blue
creed
Star
cracked
sky
Blue ore
cold
First snow
Lonely
The sound of you
long gone
Blowing through
Clear and cold
and beautiful
A thought
lost
somewhere
for good
If I could
I would
remember
That cold blue
A different
December
Thoughts moving at the speed of light
like first snows and seasons past
A thousand snowflakes
Falling
Calling
Nothing lasts
Nothing lasts
poem by Ari' Anna Arena
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The Sound of Snow
The sound of snow......
it is all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all,
like a dark still night
where sound just doesn't belong.
....it is a kitten landing on a feather pillow,
a single thin piece of paper
floating from side to side
then settling on the ground in one graceful slide,
it is a wind through a spider's web,
long silk hair tussled by a breeze
....snow is not silent it is discrete,
hiding in the open
....a three year old's sleeping breath,
a tear of joy escaping down a red round cheek
....the sound of snow is
the moment between sleep and consciousness,
fuzzy and both empty of thought and full of promise all at once,
snow is the sound dreams would make if we heard them while awake,
snow is the sound an angel makes as it guides a soul to rest.
The sound of snow
...it's all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all.