
Boy at the Window
Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a God-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to paradise.
The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.
poem by Richard Wilbur

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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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Snowbound
Lay your body down upon the midnight snow,
Feel the cold of winter in your hair
Here in a world of your own,
In a casing thats grown
To a childrens delight
That arrived overnight.
And here they come to play their magic games
Carving names upon your frozen hand.
Here in a world of your own,
Like a sleeper whose eyes
Sees the pain with surprise
As it smothers your cries
Theyll never never know.
Hey theres a snowman
Hey, hey what a snowman
Pray for the snowman
Ooh, ooh what a snowman
They say a snow years a good year
Filled with the love of all who lie so deep.
Smiling faces tear your body to the ground
Covered red that only we can see.
Here in a ball that they made
From the snow on the ground,
See it rolling away
Wild eyes to the sky
Theyll never, never know.
Hey theres a snowman
Hey what a snowman
Pray for the snowman
Ooh, ooh what a snowman
They say a snow years a good year
Filled with the love of all who lie so deep.
Hey there goes the snowman
Hey there what a snowman
Hey there lies the snowman
Hey he was a snowman
They say a snow years a good year
Filled with the love of all who lie so deep.
song performed by by Genesis

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did Daddy Cry?
Mist dense o'er face
Warmth consolation to days
Drizzle of the early rain...
Who's guise conceal eyes grave proclaim?
Smile embrace tear,
It's fall to shame never came.
Expressions of life complicated,
Lone smile be not it's element
Ease it, deny...
Share of mourn, grieving why?
Woods not evergreen...
Winds tress, not ever play willow.
Sun set never bright.
It's pale, it's cold, it contemplates.
Weather whims,
Water whirls.
Tempests, Tide's temper-
Wild Wailing.
Did daddy Cry?
Not seen I...
Silent night stare
Earth breast in uneasy wind
Swell and shrink
With a tear pour down the blink.
Know I, yet deny.
Did daddy cry?
poem by Lama Abbas

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Forsaken Me
Forsaken Me
By: Adam M. Snow
Night by night, I lie awake wishing for soothing rain,
With loss of hope and faith I ask to ease this lonely pain.
With feeling lost and full of doubt, struggling through this frozen time,
And this stench of lies between the worldly grime,
Now follows behind me forevermore.
I hear the ghost of mine alone calling throughout the night,
With darkness within his voice, tormented with delight.
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
But thus this be but a dream or thus this be but a life without a dream?
A life without faith and hope and all, does it seem?
Could this be but a mirror of my life?
Forsaken me, is all I hear,
Yet it shows me, itself is fear,
And I ponder to why it is here.
Could it be that death is near?
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
Again, must I go through this,
The feeling of emptiness,
And the knowledge that all could end,
And this heart to not be mend?
Again, must I go through this,
To throw myself back into abyss?
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
Maybe it's time to face my ghost,
And all the things that I boast,
And forsaken me nonetheless,
And free myself from all the stress.
Now I lie myself to sleep,
Forsaken myself with terrible heap.
'Forsaken me' the voice goes on,
Even 'gainst the blackest of dawn.
'Forsaken me' forevermore,
With every burden I must bore.
I see the ghost in tainted light,
Following the waking of the night.
Condemn me, condemn me,
It knows not what this curse may be.
Forsaken me, forsaken me,
Let my broken life see.
'Forsaken me' must he said.
And I, afraid of what now to come.
'Forsaken me' the voice grows strong.
And I, longing for what now to come.
My life's in shackles,
My misery, my hackles,
My longing for redemption.
I see a door, cracked and torn,
As I bow my head to mourn,
For my endless shadow of my endless fate,
Swallowed by everything that I hate.
'Forsaken me' the voice goes on,
Even 'gainst the blackest of dawn.
'Forsaken me' forevermore,
With every burden I must bore.
Must this ghost be me but an echo of what yet to come?
The presence I feel, the nameless numb.
Must this be my suffering end?
Must I now make amend,
With but a single heartache,
On the night of my Irish wake?
'Forsaken me' the voice goes on,
Even 'gainst the blackest of dawn.
'Forsaken me' forevermore,
With every burden I must bore.
Could it be that the ghost I spoke of,
Could it be that it's really me?
Gone from this world, lonely as can be.
Forsaken, as the years go by,
And to find all things must die.
Being left in solitude,
Cold and alone and yes, even nude.
Myself I now forsaken,
Curse to sleep and never awaken.
poem by Adam M. Snow

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When Will It Rain
No one ever sees you cry
You just keep it all inside
In a warm place, where you can hide
When will it rain
When will it rain
I saw you laugh the other day
But all too fast it went away
Now your skys cloudy n gray
Falling mainly on the plain
When will it rain
When will it rain
No water fallls
Down your window pane
And when I look into your eyes
That window to your soul cant lie
Theres water where the well went dry
So how long can there be a drought
When your dams filled with doubt
No place to build your house
Let your cup runneth over and out
I said for crying out loud
When will it rain
When will it rain
No water fallls
Down your window pane
When will it rain
When will it rain
A tear for fear is calling out your name
Rain on me
song performed by by Extreme

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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After Prayers, Lie Cold
Arise my body, my small body, we have striven
Enough, and He is merciful; we are forgiven.
Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go,
White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow,
Undress with small, cold fingers and put out the light,
And be alone, hush'd mortal, in the sacred night,
-A meadow whipt flat with the rain, a cup
Emptied and clean, a garment washed and folded up,
Faded in colour, thinned almost to raggedness
By dirt and by the washing of that dirtiness.
Be not too quickly warm again. Lie cold; consent
To weariness' and pardon's watery element.
Drink up the bitter water, breathe the chilly death;
Soon enough comes the riot of our blood and breath.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis

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Blinded By Rainbows
Did you ever feel the pain
That he felt upon the cross
Did you ever feel the knife
Tearing flesh that's oh so soft
Did you ever touch the night
Did you ever count the cost
Do you hide away the fear
Put down paradise as lost
Yeah you're blinded by rainbows
Watching the wind blow
Blinded by rainbows
Do you dream at night
Do you sleep at night
I doubt it
Did you ever feel the blast
As the semtex bomb goes off
Do you ever hear the screams
As the limbs are all torn off
Did you ever kiss the child
Who just saw his father shot
Do you ever shed a tear
As the war drags on and on
Do you ever touch the night
Or is it just another job
Do you feel the final hours
Put down paradise as lost
Yeah you're blinded by rainbows
And faces in windows
Blinded by rainbows
Do you dream at night
Do you sleep at night
I doubt it
Do you ever fear the night
Could it be the war is lost
Do you fear the final hour
Do you kneel before the cross
You're blinded by rainbows
And watching the wind blow
Blinded by rainbows
Do you dream at night
Do you scream at night
Do you smell of fear
Is your conscience clear
Are you caked in sweat
Are your clothes all wet
Do you see the light
Is the end in sight
See the face of Christ
Enter paradise
I doubt it
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Voodoo Lounge

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I build my life out of magical nights
If I build my life
out of magical nights
my room becomes a castle
where you and I share our dreams.
In the background there are violins
playing in a string orchestra
and the sound
that falls over us trembling
lies soft in our own small universe.
I see stars in your eyes
and maybe it’s Orion
or the sun up above
and at dusk the moon hangs
as if caught in its own orbit.
There’s a pearl around your neck
that’s whiter than snow,
but your rosebuds bloom
before my lips reach them.
Outside the rain falls buzzing
against the window,
but we are lock off from every thing
and I hear you moan in ecstasy
while a thunderbolt rumbles far away
and your are soft and hot around me
and forever I can stay like this.
poem by Gert Strydom

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The Echo
Rust on his wail and melted like the snow,
And like fair women and brave men;
But death's prophetic ears gather the tears.
Trembling in distress and the look of things,
With checks all pale at night!
And like the flying feet without a rest at last.
Merry as a marriage-bell,
That was the echo of the wind to my ears at last;
But with soft eyes ans the look of the muse of love,
And the pleasant things of love are always around me.
Cold and low ans full of lusty life,
And in beauty's circles i will share my muse with you;
For the breasts of love do water my peaceful garden.
Double joy went through my mind with your muse,
And with rich blossom trees to swing along;
But your deep-blue eyes are here to stay.
The lilies gave me love and peace like,
The fresh water from your ocean of love;
But the echo around me is like the ruler of your waters,
And of the early flowers of the muse of your paradise.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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The first Snow for M 'lady Tara
Now almost imperceptibly the snow is falling steadily.
Unruffled by the slightest breeze to coat the branches of the trees
with layers of the purest white which sparkle in the pale moonlight.
A sight that’s pleasing to my eyes. Beneath the trees a blanket lies
as yet a flimsy covering but it is slowly thickening.
As falling snow relentlessly, continues drifting quietly.
The world reverts to black and white. It is a bitter winter’s night
I sit and watch from my window backlit by the firelights glow.
I’m thankful that I need not go outdoors amidst the falling snow.
I am content to stay inside I much prefer my fireside.
Although it’s beautiful to see the snow descending steadily.
I am too old to brave the cold I leave that to the young and bold.
Tomorrow with the morning sun the children will be having fun.
With cries of glee they’ll greet the snow and I will watch from my window.
The antics of small girls and boys as they engage in childish ploys.
Just as I did so long ago when I could enjoy the snow.
One benefit of being old I stay inside when it is cold.
My aching bones will not permit me to do much more than sit
and watch the children as they play and remember my young days.
18/08/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg

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Sonnet to the sky
Oh how wonderful is the sky
Like a cloth in light blue dye
By day the clouds decorate it
And by the great sun it is lit
Changing by day and by night
Truly a magnificent sight
At dusk the sky stands gallantly
With the sun setting beautifully
Do not fear, small child
As the sky at night is not wild
With the moon shining oh so bright
And the stars giving heavenly light
By the night or by the day
To praise the one above I try
There is nothing more I could say
Than a single sonnet for the sky
Sad Night
On the eve of my 21st birthday
I sat alone in freezing temperatures
I walked upon snow and almost slipped on frozen water
The sky was clear above me as a plane flew over head
Dark, cold, lonely, sad night
Amidst the frustration of the winter dog trying to bite my backside
My feet were freezing inside their boots
My body was numb; the icy air ate through my gloves
It provided a bone chilling unpleasantness
It is a cold, lonely, dark, sad night
I called a friend to have a chat, but there was no answer
I was literally standing atop a frozen snow angel
That I had formed with my body a few days earlier
I left a message, not much more to it
Tis a lonely, dark, cold, sad night
I crusaded from one side of the parking lot
To the other in search of light
I could find no sunshine in my presence
Nay, I was shrouded by the deepest blackest shadows
Of the dark, sad, cold, lonely night
I can not sleep, I can not hide
The death’s awake, alive inside.
2-3-09
poem by Jesse Tampa

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The Snow
See the snow
Its a blanket, soft and white
Falling slow
Covering the world, making it bright
Hear the snow
Crunching underneath feet
Children throw
The snow in the street
Smell the snow
The freshening scent
As the steady flow
Makes my heart content
Feel the snow
Powdery, it freezes your toes
As the blanket starts to grow
And the cold wind blows
Taste the snow
The way it makes the world look clean
Still cold though,
Makes the world, a beautiful scene
Love the snow
When I see it snowing all day
I just know
That everything is going to be okay
poem by Katniss Everdeen

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Snow Man
You’re looking out of the window,
you’re watching the settling snow.
Soft the snow falls like angels’ feathers,
bringing your children and joy together.
For they’re building a snowman,
from whatever snow that they can.
They give me a nose, eyes, hat and pipe,
so tell me now, what do I look like?
You say I am always still and cold,
stood here for all of you to behold,
but that was the way that I was made.
This is what I am, happy in the shade.
Then there was a break in the clouds,
and the great Sun shines out loud,
hurting me, until I do cry,
until I melt, wilt and die.
The sun is here and I’ve nowhere to go,
my tears run cold, turned from snow,
Until all that is left is my eyes of coal,
and my hat dancing in the wind, with my soul.
poem by Dale Mullock

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On Another's Sorrow
Can I see another’s woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another’s grief,
And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow’s share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd?
Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird’s grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear,
And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast;
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant’s tear;
And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!
He doth give His joy to all;
He becomes an infant small;
He becomes a man of woe;
He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.
O! He gives to us His joy
That our grief he may destroy;
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)

Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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A Tramp On The Street
The snowflakes fell
like white feathers from heaven
leaving a white blanket on the ground.
He trudged through the lonely streets
with nowhere to go.
A tramp on the street
with only rags to cover his feet,
trying to find a place to sleep
and rest his weary bones.
He passed a frozen river,
it made his cold body shiver
for he could see a pair of hand raise up held
and hear a small voice as it yelled.
Without a moment hesitation,
though barely nothing on his feet
he started to walk
across the sharp iced water
even though the wind fiercely blew.
He had to reach the child
that had fallen through.
He moved as fast as he could
although he was almost crippled.
Reaching down he plucked the child
from the dark waters cold
as the wind blew fierce and wild.
He moved slowly to the shore
as a silent rain began to pour.
Finding shelter beneath some trees
covered the child in what
dry clothes he had.
He forgot about his feet that hurt
as he covers the child
with his ragged coat and shirt.
He made sure the child was warm
before he laid himself to rest.
The child later awoke to find
the tramp stiff and blue
within his snowy bed.
There is no moral to this story
of why one ill treated by society
would willingly forfit his life
so that an unknown child would live.
We can only ponder on the thoughts
that went through his head
as he laid himself down to sleep
on that snowy bed.
12 January 2008
poem by David Harris

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Redemption
Redemption
By: Adam M. Snow
Night is dark before the dawn,
and all's a dream within a dream,
hoping for what is gone,
and dancing 'gainst a moonlit beam.
To find ourselves, once was lost,
and redeem ourselves once again,
with the dreams and love's the cost,
to not fear the foe of men.
Lost and forsaken in a world gone cold,
waiting for a newborn morning ember,
as the darkened sun turns gold,
and all henceforth to remember,
the final hours of ones redemption.
Night to fall and awaken the day,
with honor of ones exemption,
to love all and leave to stay.
poem by Adam M. Snow

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A Tale of Christmas Eve
'Twas Christmastide in Germany,
And in the year of 1850,
And in the city of Berlin, which is most beautiful to the eye;
A poor boy was heard calling out to passers-by.
"Who'll buy my pretty figures," loudly he did cry,
Plaster of Paris figures, but no one inclined to buy;
His clothes were thin and he was nearly frozen with cold,
And wholly starving with hunger, a pitiful sight to behold.
And the twilight was giving place to the shadows of approaching night,
And those who possessed a home were seeking its warmth and light;
And the market square was dark and he began to moan,
When he thought of his hungry brother and sisters at home.
Alas! The poor boy was afraid to go home,
Oh, Heaven! hard was his lot, for money he'd none;
And the tears coursed down his cheeks while loudly he did cry,
"Buy my plaster of Paris figures, oh! please come buy."
It was now quite dark while he stood there,
And the passers-by did at the poor boy stare,
As he stood shivering with cold in the market square;
And with the falling snow he was almost frozen to the bone.
And what would it avail him standing there alone,
Therefore he must make up his mind to return home.
Then he tried to hoist the board and figures on to his head,
And for fear of letting the board fall he was in great dread;
Then he struggled manfully forward without delay,
But alas! He fell on the pavement, oh! horror and dismay.
And his beautiful figures were broken and scattered around him,
And at the sight thereof his eyes grew dim;
And when he regained his feet he stood speechless like one bowed down,
Then the poor boy did fret and frown.
Then the almost despairing boy cried aloud,
And related his distress to the increasing crowd;
Oh! What a pitiful sight on a Christmas eve,
But the dense crowd didn't the poor boy relieve,
Until a poor wood-cutter chanced to come along,
And he asked of the crowd what was wrong;
And twenty ready tongues tells him the sad tale,
And when he heard it the poor boy's fate he did bewail.
And he cried, "Here! Something must be done and quickly too,
Do you hear! Every blessed soul of you;
Come, each one give a few pence to the poor boy,
And it will help to fill his heart with joy."
Then the wood-cutter gave a golden coin away,
So the crowd subscribed largely without delay;
Which made the poor boy's heart feel gay,
Then the wood-cutter thanked the crowd and went away.
So the poor boy did a large subscription receive,
And his brother, mother, and sisters had a happy Christmas eve;
And he thanked the crowd and God that to him the money sent,
And bade the crowd good-night, then went home content.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall

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