En.Citatepedia^®.ro

December Walk

The sun casts morning shadows
over the frost covered ground.
Blackbirds search for breakfast,
but there’s nothing to be found

Yesterday’s watery puddles
are now solid and frozen over.
Warm breath turns to ice-cold
as it shows in frosty vapour.

The bird population of the lake
are in the iced reduced pool.
Many are left to skate on the ice,
but the seagulls still rule.

poem by Orlando Belo
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An Icy Winter

Brrrr, it’s cold this morning
Ice cycles hanging from the fence
They look like clothespins on a line
In a world so frozen and tense

A herd of cattle across the lake
Their frosty world is strange
They look a little bewildered
As they roam across the range

The trees are iced up carefully
When nature turns off the heat
One of the winter surprises
Sometimes we’d rather not repeat

Our breath stops in the air
Clusters ‘round our head
I’d kind of like warm weather
But we have the cold instead

It’s time for our yearly changes
For spring is on its way
We can began to plan our garden
For icy weather’s not here to stay!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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Winter-Time

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise;
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit
To warm my frozen bones a bit;
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
Me in my comforter and cap;
The cold wind burns my face, and blows
Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod;
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Star-Talk

'Are you awake, Gemelli,
This frosty night?'
'We'll be awake till reveillé,
Which is Sunrise,' say the Gemelli,
'It's no good trying to go to sleep:
If there's wine to be got we'll drink it deep,
But rest is hopeless to-night,
But rest is hopeless to-night.'

'Are you cold too, poor Pleiads,
This frosty night?'
'Yes, and so are the Hyads:
See us cuddle and hug,' say the Pleiads,
'All six in a ring: it keeps us warm:
We huddle together like birds in a storm:
It's bitter weather to-night,
It's bitter weather to-night.'

'What do you hunt, Orion,
This starry night?'
'The Ram, the Bull and the Lion,
And the Great Bear,' says Orion,
'With my starry quiver and beautiful belt
I am trying to find a good thick pelt
To warm my shoulders to-night,
To warm my shoulders to-night.

'Did you hear that, Great She-bear,
This frosty night?
'Yes, he's talking of stripping me bare
Of my own big fur,' says the She-bear,
'I'm afraid of the man and his terrible arrow:
The thought of it chills my bones to the marrow,
And the frost so cruel to-night!
And the frost so cruel to-night!'

'How is your trade, Aquarius,
This frosty night?'
'Complaints is many and various
And my feet are cold,' says Aquarius,
'There's Venus objects to Dolphin-scales,
And Mars to Crab-spawn found in my pails,
And the pump has frozen to-night,
And the pump has frozen to-night.'

poem by Robert Graves
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Autumn Frost

The morning sun shows like a pillar
Of fire through smoke on frosty days.
As on a faulty snap, it cannot
Make out my features in the haze.

The distant trees will hardly see me
Until the sun at last can break
Out of the fog, and flash triumphant
Upon the meadows by the lake.

A passer-by in mist receding
Is recognized when he has passed.
You walk on hoarfrost-covered pathways
As though on mats of plaited bast.

The frost is covered up in gooseflesh,
The air is false like painted cheeks,
The earth is shivering, and sick of
Breathing potato-stalks for weeks.

poem by Boris Pasternak
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Frozen

Frozen
By: Adam M. Snow

Memories frozen and gone,
like sands in broken time,
'gainst the blackest of dawn,
yet cold with no love sublime.
To be alone in ice of despair,
with hearts cold and frozen.
There's nothing left to bear,
for all who are chosen.

Like frost in the wind,
chilling a lonely being,
leaving nothing to mend,
like a ghost without seeing.
Dreams now cold like ice,
falling to pieces,
not once but twice,
as the days decreases.

What else is there to know,
with everything oh so cool?
Like being ghost in the snow,
and you being the fool.
All's now cold like a winter's night,
like little breezes dusk and shiver,
and with unpleasant delight,
with fear all is quiver.

Staring now out a hoar frost window,
alone, cold and wilted,
with your sufferings and woe,
waiting to strike you dead.
All's now cold hearted,
like frozen in ice,
as all's departed,
and you're the sacrifice.

poem by Adam M. Snow
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Vapors of Yesterday

Yesterday we were enemies
Today we are friends
Yesterday you said you loved me
Today marks the end
Of two souls which were once intertwined
Like a ball of yarn unrolled now lies undefined
Yesterday we were children
Today we are growing old
Yesterday we were warm
Today we are as cold
As the many dreams that we left frozen in time
Of all the frightful nightmares, some were benign
Yesterday was a blessing
Today is a curse
Yesterday was forever
Today is the first
Moment that we have to read the guiding signs
Through vapors of tomorrow, breathe in and unwind

poem by P.R. Prosper
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In Shallow Steps Kept

Contributions made to avert disaster...
Had some chuckling,
As others were seen in uncontrollable laughter.
No one now shows a smirk or grin!
Frozen they are,
In shallow steps kept with heartfelt deceptions.
And donations of insight...
Have now dwindled to scatter in blistering winds.
Even notes left provoking those to move on...
Can not be found,
With explicit marked exits!
And where, when and how...
To place one's feet back on solid ground.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Cold Winter's Day

The weather cold and overcast in the middle of July
And cold jack frost blows with his chilly breath across the Winter sky
And in Kyneton, Trentham and Daylesford they have had a fall of snow
And the temperatures at zero and the weather glass is low
From Spring through Summer to late Fall the weather warm and dry
And for days on end the sun was burning in the clear blue sky
But the rain and snow is needed now and people pray for more
For the paddocks at this time of year never dry as this before
Yet today I saw a magpie despite the Wintery chill
Fly from the ground to a tall gum tree with a twig in his bill
For to build a nest an early sign of the approach of Spring
Of late in the darkness of the night I hear his kin bird sing
In parts of Central Victoria it is snowing, cattle bellowing for hay
And the cold breath of jack frost in the wind it has been a chilly day.

poem by Francis Duggan
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What's Simple Is True

Turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frost-bit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon
Like leaves frozen in the snow
Our two shadows merge inseparably
Will time stand still if it's pierced with cold

Chorus:
The more I live

song performed by by Jewel from Spirit
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Already Gone

A warm day
Sometime in May
As the sun begins to rise
The heart of a girl suddenly dies
A small ring was found
Right beside her on the ground
The two were around her neck
Were found out on the deck
Her body lays beside the bay
Her baby later in the day
His shadow passes the soul he takes
They rest in the center of the shallow lake
The day is coming to an end
The sun rises on the other side
For a father the search is on
At the end a mother tells the father to search no longer
She says i have some heartbreaking news
She crys and says John they're already gone

poem by Kerrie Maurer
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~Cold

! Lost raindropps in the snow
Covered in ice cold regret
Never-ever to be found
In the chill of Winter-Set
Frozen are the rainbows
Made of colour spectrum lights
Covered up by dancing
Snowflakes
Of the blanket white-covered night

poem by Theodora Onken
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Grey Thrush at the Door

'Swe-e-et! Swe-e-et!' Low at first and flattering,
Full of soft seductiveness on a wheedling note.
Who comes in mercy now, crumbs of comfort scattering
For a grey bird pleading from a cold, cold throat?
Just a thread of tallow-fat, just a scrap of meat!
Grey thrush is at the door. 'Swe-e-et! Swe-e-et!'

Grey bird, friendly bird, merry bird in summer time,
For summer is a merry time, full of tuneful mirth.
Sunny days are singing days. But winter is a glummer time
With lean days of scant fare; frost has locked the earth.
Song goes as sun goes, and harshly drives the sleet.
Where comes the almoner? 'Swe-e-et! Swe-e-et!'

'Sweet! Sweet!' Now it grows imperious:
A short call, a loud call, impatience in its tone.
Why am I left lingering? See, my plight is serious.
A poor bird all forlorn, starving and alone.
Grey Thrush is a-hungering, begging scraps to eat.
It's far beyond my breakfast time! 'Sweet! Sweet!'

Now a footstep on the floor. Now a sudden fluttering,
And Grey Thrush is waiting there beside the open door.
Kookaburra cocks an eye; greedily he's muttering;
But grey bird is first to swoop upon the proffered store,
A scrap of song in gratitude, then up, and off, away.
And the mendicant has vanished till another frosty day.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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First Death In Nova Scotia

In the cold, cold parlor
my mother laid out Arthur
beneath the chromographs:
Edward, Prince of Wales,
with Princess Alexandra,
and King George with Queen Mary.
Below them on the table
stood a stuffed loon
shot and stuffed by Uncle
Arthur, Arthur's father.

Since Uncle Arthur fired
a bullet into him,
he hadn't said a word.
He kept his own counsel
on his white, frozen lake,
the marble-topped table.
His breast was deep and white,
cold and caressable;
his eyes were red glass,
much to be desired.

"Come," said my mother,
"Come and say good-bye
to your little cousin Arthur."
I was lifted up and given
one lily of the valley
to put in Arthur's hand.
Arthur's coffin was
a little frosted cake,
and the red-eyed loon eyed it
from his white, frozen lake.

Arthur was very small.
He was all white, like a doll
that hadn't been painted yet.
Jack Frost had started to paint him
the way he always painted
the Maple Leaf (Forever).
He had just begun on his hair,
a few red strokes, and then
Jack Frost had dropped the brush
and left him white, forever.

The gracious royal couples
were warm in red and ermine;
their feet were well wrapped up
in the ladies' ermine trains.
They invited Arthur to be
the smallest page at court.
But how could Arthur go,
clutching his tiny lily,
with his eyes shut up so tight
and the roads deep in snow?

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Reflective Smile

your painted smile hides you still
While you search yourself within
Yesterday and tomorrows found
Fused as one upon solid ground
As all around the milling crowd
Confuse themselves with raging sounds
And their loves forgetfulness abounds
So be thankful for your greasepainted clown
If lonliness wears the crown
Of the veteran cosmic rocker

song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow Dancing

Frozen ground, frozen ponds,
Overgrown fields awaiting spring.
Snow dancing across the roads,
Snow too cold to melt
when it hits the ground.

To light to stay down,
blowing every which way.
Cars pass by disturbing the air
making the snow dance
on swirling currents of air.

Swirling up, down, all around,
spinning, wildly, round and round,
trying to get to the ground.
Almost bare roads covered
with swirls of snow.

Everywhere the flowing snow.
No cars pass by. Now, only the wind.
Wind still blowing the snow,
up, down, and all around,
dancing lively to the ground.

From my poetry book 'Snowed in by a Warm Fire'
available on Amazon.com

poem by Joe Wocoski
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The Poet

'THE blackbird's in the briar,
The seagull's on the ground-
They are nests, and they're more than nests,' he said,
'They are tokens I have found.

There, where the rain-dashed briar
Marks an empty glade,
The blackbird's nest is seen,' he said,
'Clay-rimmed, uncunningly made.

By shore of the inland lake,
Where surgeless water shoves,
The seagulls have their nests,' he said,
'As low as catties' hooves.'

I heard a poet say it,
The sojourner of a night;
His head was up to the rafter,
Where he stood in candles' light.

'Your houses are like the seagulls'
Nests they are scattered and low;
Like the blackbirds' nests in briars,' he said,
'Uncunningly made even so.

But close to the ground are reared
The wings that have widest sway,
And the birds that sing best in the wood,' he said,
'Were reared with breasts to the clay.

You've wildness I've turned it to song;
You've strength I've turned it to wings;
The welkin's for your conquest then,
The wood to your music rings.'

I heard a poet say it,
The sojourner of a night;
His head was up to the rafter,
Where he stood in candles' light.

poem by Padraic Colum
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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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A Winter Smile

The first icy mist of morning covered the land
With foggy, hazy, vague and blur memories of the Autumn
Where silence is deafening
Ans winter frost are chilly and deep.....

where vale of grief is lonely
And frost wind of mid winter looks cold and gray
And freshly fallen snow
Warms up the nostalgic memories.........

Where imagination helps to add a tint and a shade of life
And show the color of miracles on the garden covered with snow
And springs the hope in our hearts and souls
To bring us a whisper of joy and a winter smile........

And all this takes us on the momentary trip
Of an emotional journey of life
Where we can hear the echo and sounds of silence
And a hand full of memories from the gray and frosty winter mist........

Seema Chowdhury
23rd Nov,2010

poem by Seema Chowdhury
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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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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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