Meeting
For Michael Hamburger
Barn owl
daughter of snow,
subject to the night wind,
yet taking root
with her talons
in the rotten scab of walls,
beak face
with round eyes,
heart-rigid mask
of feathers a white fire
that touches neither time nor space.
Coldly the wind blows
against the old homestead,
in the yard pale folk,
sledges, baggage, lamps covered with snow,
in the pots death,
in the pitchers poison,
the last will nailed to a post.
The hidden thing
under the rocks' claws,
the opening into night,
the terror of death
thrust into flesh like stinging salt.
Let us go down
in the language of angels
to the broken bricks of Babel.
Translated by Michael Hamburger
poem by Peter Huchel
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Related quotes
The Camp Within the West
O DID you see a troop go by
Way-weary and oppressed,
Dead kisses on the drooping lip
And a dead heart in the breast?
Yea, I have seen them one by one
Way-weary and oppressed,
And when I asked them, ‘Whither speed?’
They answered, ‘To the West!’
And were they pale as pale could be—
Death-pale with haunted eyes,
And did you see the hot white dust
Range round their feet and rise?
Oh, they were pale as pale could be,
And pale as an embered leaf;
The hot white dust had risen, but
They laid it with their grief.
Did no one say the way is long,
And crave a little rest?
Oh no, they said, ‘The night is nigh,
Our camp is in the West!’
And did pain pierce their feet, as though
The way with thorns were set,
And were they visited by strange
Dark angels of regret?
Oh yea, and some were mute as death,
Though shot by many a dart,
With them the salt of inward tears
Went stinging through the heart.
And how are these wayfarers called,
And whither do they wend?
The Weary-Hearted—and their road
At sunset hath and end.
Shed tears for them…Nay, nay, no tears!
They yearn for endless rest;
Perhaps large stars will burn above
Their camp within the West.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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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
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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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Death's Wings
Death was a bird that night
An ugly, vicious bird
Death's claws scratched at me
But flew away when I didn't bleed.
As it flew, darkness fell
Wings blocking out the moon.
Death screetched in frustration
When it couldn't break my skin
Death was too obvious
And realised.
Death swooped low that night
And caught her by suprise
Not a sound left its beak, nor her mouth
And death was silently satisfied.
To strike again was simple
Death had learnt a new trick.
And so began a time
That death shed its feathers.
poem by Danielle Guscott
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Michael Furey
That night was cold,
The wind was biting.
All over Ireland
the snow was falling
"I was packing
my trousseau,
To Dublin town
I was to go."
"I heard a pebble
strike my pane.
A moment passed,
then, there, again."
"I looked out
On the snow filled lane.
That's when I saw him,
Saw my Michael.
His pale face raised
toward my light.
Like an angel
lost in contemplation."
"Michael's health was not the best.
His lungs were weak
and fluid filled."
"Soon after I had left the West,
I heard that he had fallen ill."
"He's buried now near Sligo town,
between Ben Bulben and the sea.
'May my Michael rest in peace,
I think he died for love of me.'
poem by John F. McCullagh
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My American Flag
Flag of the brave
Victory's only passage
With the Azure night
The dash of the fire ablaze
The stripe of pearly snow
Smybol of a victory
America's Victory
Soldiers true and brave
Trudging in the winter snow
Through the dark, hidden passage
The single, small fire ablaze
For I am of the dark night
Yet in my night:
I cry for victory,
I set my enemies ablaze,
For I am of the Brave
Within the hidden passage
The wind, the rain, the snow
Of the Sea, of the snow
Or hiding in the dark, cool night
Within every passage
In glorious victory
The symbol of the strong and brave
My fire within is ablaze
A Torch ablaze
The flash of falling snow
The strong and brave
In the night
Fighting for victory
leaving the passage
Victory has found a passage
The town is ablaze
Today is the victory
In the winter snow
The battle won this night
The shed blood of the brave
With the brave, in the passage
In the night, of the fire
Trudging in the snow, I won the victory
poem by Maria Robbins
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Snow-White (Part 4)
While the queen's dogs were howling into the broken night to throw away
The forces, the queen was preparing the poison for the Snow White's birthday.
The poison was melted into blood and dew by that queen with innocent eyes.
Her beggars jumped over the moon for a ritual dance of a princess, who dies.
Her crows were flying in the wind being so proud of what they have done,
Her dress could hide the truth so well, with her mask she enjoyed the fun.
''I'm having bodice laces for sale, '' she said knocking on the dwarfs' door.
Then, she pulled the laces so tight that Snow-White fell down on the floor.
The sun hid behind the sea of clouds not to see the Snow White's death,
The dwarfs came home and found her on the floor without having breath.
They cut the bodice laces in two and Snow White could come back to life,
''She will give you poison to drink in sips and you will die without any strife.''
‘'Mirror, on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all? '' Queen wanted to know.
‘'You, my queen, are fair; it is true, '' replied the bad mirror through its glow.
''But beyond the seven mountains, in the dwarfs' house, Little Snow-White
Is a thousand times fairer than you, moreover, her future is extremely bright! '
She poisoned a comb and went out to knock again on the Snow White's door,
When she stuck the comb into the girl's hair, the girl fell down on the floor.
When the seven dwarfs returned home, they drowned in their own despair,
But she opened her eyes, when Liar pulled the poisoned comb from her hair.
‘'Mirror, on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all? '' Queen wanted to know.
‘'You, my queen, are fair; it is true, '' replied the bad mirror through its glow.
''But beyond the seven mountains, in the dwarfs' house, Little Snow-White
Is a thousand times fairer than you, moreover, her future is extremely bright! '
Everything was grey, while the queen was saying her mystic words aloud,
Inside her dark castle's granite walls, even the signs of time were not allowed.
Only lonesome birds and souls were flying there above a big fragile shroud,
Only craggy faces and weary eyes could be seen there in a demonic crowd.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Farm@
Cold windy, snow day on the farm. The black weather vane, spun like a merry go round on the main red barn roof, where the livestock was housed. A family of white winged doves roosted under the white pine over hang of the hay barn.A large equipment building with a slopped roof to store tractors blades, harrows, hole diggers, mowers and tillers during harsh weather.windbreakers, Giant cypress trees snow covered, upright white friars, three rows deep, who never need to sleep. standing guard against mother nature's fury.
poem by Michael Andrew
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Farm
Cold windy, snow day on the farm. The black weather vane, spun like a merry go round on the main red barn roof, where the livestock was housed. A family of white winged doves roosted under the white pine over hang of the hay barn.A large equipment building with a slopped roof to store tractors blades, harrows, hole diggers, mowers and tillers during harsh weather.windbreakers, Giant cypress trees snow covered, upright white friars, three rows deep, who never need to sleep. standing guard against mother nature's fury.
poem by Michael Andrew
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Cold winter night
It was a cold winter night.
All was deadly still.
My guts so tight
I must kill!
The cry of a wolf enters my head
Like a train whistle that echoes far away.
Can it be…something lives on this winter night?
Follow the sound and pray
It does not go away.
My hunger juices flowing; I go.
I and the wolf both now know
Neither is alone in the land of snow.
Oh, how I wish I had his sight
On this cold winter night
The north wind moved in the night before.
The ground all snow and bitter cold…so bitter cold.
The sky filled with stars.
The snow grows old.
My guts so tight
What a cold, cold winter night!
The wolf stays hidden from my sight
With it’s furry coat of gray and white.
He glides across the snow without sound
Like a ballerina tiptoeing over the ground.
My guts so tight
On this bitter cold winter night
I with my blood running slow
My hands burning cold; my face red glow
Driven by the pain in my gut
On this cold-cold bitter winter night
I must kill
To make the night still
So the hunger pains
Will be gone again
I hear nothing on this cold winter night
My hair stands up on the back of my neck
I fear the wolf knows
I turn
Crutch to spring
His fangs showing white; my knife in my hand
We circle like two roosters in a pen.
For one this will be the end.
The pain in my gut is still tight
I will kill but not for the trill
On such a killing bitter cold winter night
With the grace of a cat he springs to flight
My throat his aim on this cold winter night
My knife hits his heart…he hunches in pain;
His fangs rip my throat cutting the jugular vein.
The snows now stain on this cold winter night.
Blood and flesh flung upon the snow
Cries of pain, moans of death…soon will go
From this bitter cold ground
All is still on winter’s playground.
The wolf dances no more
My lips move but there is no sound.
My gut is still tight
I feel alright
No more time to fight
On this bitter cold winter night
Wind and snow now fill the air.
The wolf has an empty den.
The snow will be tracked no more.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Genocide complete
In a galaxy so far
poem by Ronald Brissette
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The heart of snow
the heart of snow
is a mirror whitened
by hands that know
a surface enlightened
the heart of snow
a feeble beat of time
of things that grow
in seeds of fragile rhymes
the heart of snow
bleeds the blood of white
for a lamb that knows
the edges of the light
the heart of snow
landscapes hurt the heart
in a death that blows
a flake's graceful art
the heart of snow
do not ever touch
up you will grow
and still know too much
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Snow White Transparent
“Mirror… Mirror…”
Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew
“This is what you want”
Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White
“Mirror… Mirror…”
A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left
“On the wall…”
He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips
“Snow…? ”
Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is
“Seven little men…”
She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:
“Who is fairest of them all? ”
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Mr. Big Toe Goes To The Window
Mr. Big Toe, Mr. Big Toe wouldn’t you know,
drives up to the take out window.
He orders a burger with Hamburger Help hand by his side,
they were driving around town having a fun time.
Then Mr. Big Toe gets really stuffed,
now he is in a big grumpy gruff.
He tells Mrs. Hamburger Helper to get out of his truck.
Mrs.Hamburger Helper say’s _______ off!
They realize they were not meant to be,
Hamburger Helper hand doesn’t smell that pretty.
Written By Christina Sunrise on January 24,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Beauty Of Winter
The sun shines on the cold, white, snow,
It spring through my blinds, and my room starts to glow,
I got out of bed, and walked out the door,
And walked right outside, unknowing of what’s in store,
I stop and I sit, on a stump in my yard,
Reached down for a handful of snow that is hard,
I think of this snow, and its short time spent here,
It shines and it sparkles, almost causing a tear,
The crisp, bitter, air makes me shiver with cold,
I let the snow fall from my chill-induced hold,
Winter’s icy fingers wrap around me tight,
The snow-filled wind blows by, limiting my sight,
I breathe in deep as I warm my hands,
And enjoy this winter wonderland,
My nose turns red, and my cheeks do too,
The rest of me turns a rather pale hue,
The smell of smoke, and the warmth of fire,
An inside place for when I tire,
The Earth warms, and snow melts away,
To return it’s chilling grasp another day.
poem by K.N. Sheldon
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Love-Hate Snow 1&2
‘Love-Hate Snow 1'
The ice hot sun beating down
On the frozen ground
Snow fades melting my cold heart
‘Love-Hate Snow 2'
Snow on the window-sill
A snow covered doorstep
I'm happy in front of a raging fire
Micmac
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Improvisations: Light And Snow: 11
As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes fixed
On the face of this grief which has come to me,
That I did not notice the beautiful pale colouring
Of lamplight on the snow;
Nor the interlaced long blue shadows of trees;
And yet these things were there,
And the white lamps, and the orange lamps, and the lamps of lilac were there,
As I have seen them so often before;
As they will be so often again
Long after my grief is forgotten.
And still, though I know this, and say this, it cannot console me.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Take Our Snow Please
As out the window,
I look, more snow today,
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please.
Six week-ends straight,
snow, snow every where,
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please, today.
So much snow, so much cold,
snow in the streets, snow in the yard,
snow on the car, snow on my shoe,
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please, we don't know what to do.
Winter, oh winter please end,
all of this snow, we don't really want it,
snow falling, flakes dropping
have only one thing to say,
take our snow please, don't delay.
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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Pale white beauty
Soft as the moonlight, glinting
Through a veil of silken snow
Your pale white beauty, maudlin?
My hearts beat speaking in overflow…
You with your dark hair roving?
Oh ivory shouldered, queen
There where the barn owl, sleeping?
So quietly calm and serene
There where the raven is feeding?
His talons in the snow,
There with a heart still bleeding
I'll pray you love me so…
poem by Mark Heathcote
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When Its My My Time To Lie Down
When its my time to lay down and rest
no box do I want to lay please dry your
tears my family dear I wont stay gone
for long, I'll come to you each year I'll
I'll come to you in my favorite time
of year and place
Look for me when the trees and houses
look like a white frosted wedding cake
look for me in that first Christmas Snow.
Each year you'll know its me I'll be that
first Christmas wind that blows upon
your face.
Remember this is my favorite time
and place look out on Christmas
night and I'll be in your sight.
see the glimmer upon the new
Christmas snow it will be me
smiling back to you,
Lay down and make Christmas
Snow Angels for then I'll be able
to touch you for you I love so much..
I'll be back next year at the same
time.
GAYLE ANNE GOFF
DECEMBER 2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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The Snow
The voice of the tree gets frozen
and the snow falls on the heart of the winter
it has been broken
as always
but the craziness of lover and poet goes on
if the surreal dreams
touches the corridor
of my reality
I promise
I will not ask much from winter
an eternal coldness may be
it is naked
as always
no warmth
no warmth
Dear,
snow is falling everywhere
on the streets
on the trees, rooftops
and on the mirror
an ivory white
something....
and I'm breathing in
the dust of the snow
like I breathe the poetry of Mayakovosky
It pains
the long night
a broken naked winter
no! you can't be so heartless
neither I can...
Dear,
I have been like a pale winter
where snow is covering
my city of Veronese
but my frozen hand is trying to write
your name on it...!
poem by Jyotishman Debnath
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