Storm Fear
When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow
The lowest chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
'Come out! Come out!'-
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road ungraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away
And my heart owns a doubt
Whether 'tis in us to arise with day
And save ourselves unaided.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Voice
From our low seat beside the fire
Where we have dozed and dreamed, and watched the glow
Or raked the ashes, stooping so
We scarcely saw the sun and rain
Through the small curtained window-pane,
Or looked much higher
Than this same quiet red or burned-out fire,
Tonight we heard a call,
A voice on the sharp air,
And felt a breath stirring our hair,
A flame within us. Something swift and tall
Swept in and out and that was all.
Was it a bright or a dark angel? Who can know?
It made no mark upon the snow;
But suddenly, in passing, snapped the chain,
Unbarred, flung wide the door
Which will not shut again:
And so we cannot sit here any more.
We must arise and go.
The world is cold without
And dark and hedged about
With mystery and enmity and doubt,
But we must go,
Though yet we do not know
Who called, or what marks we shall leave upon the snow.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dawn Wind
The Fifteenth Century
At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and
listen,
You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun.
And the trees in the shadow rustle, and the trees in the moonlight
glisten,
And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is
done.
So do the cows in the field. They graze for an hour and lie down,
Dozing and chewing the cud; or a bird in the ivy wakes,
Chirrups one note and is still, and the restless Wind stares on,
Fidgeting far down the road, till, softly, the darkness breaks.
Back comes the Wind full strength with a blow like an angel's
wing,
Gentle but waking the world, as he shouts: "The Sun! The
Sun!"
And the light floods over the fields and the birds begin to sing,
And the Wind dies down in the grass. It is day and his work
is done.
So when the world is asleep, and there seems no hope of her
waking
Out of some long, bad dream that makes her mutter and moan,
Suddenly, all men arise to the noise of fetters breaking,
And every one smiles at his neighbor and tells him his soul is
his own!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Barn and the Down
t stood in the sunset sky
Like the straight-backed down,
Many a time - the barn
At the edge of town,
So huge and dark that it seemed
It was the hill
Till the gable's precipice proved
It impossible.
Then the great down in the west
Grew into sight,
A barn stored full to the ridge
With black of night;
And the barn fell to a barn
Or even less
Before critical eyes and its own
Late mightiness.
But far down and near barn and I
Since then have smiled,
Having seen my new cautiousness
By itself beguiled
To disdain what seemed the barn
Till a few steps changed
It past all doubt to the down;
So the barn was avenged.
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love Is A Window Starlit Bright
Love is a window starlit bright
And you are the moon
That encompasses its light
Thriving like a winters flower
Visited in the mystical—night?
You are a forest of melting snow
And all that's pure and white
'You are that lover's song in echo'
Of what God made truly right.
Lord, oh lord
She kisses me still...
Prolonging each cold
-winters chill...
The thaw of passing...
Lord, oh lord
Its then she whispers!
Asks for the winds desires
In mine, burning...
Crackling... Ilex ears
Touch me not—just
In the next world:
And I'll like a feather rise
Like an attending angel
I'll kiss away all your tears
All your cries...
Lord, oh lord
Its then she whispers!
As and when the winter raps
Its winter cloak
Around your heart
I will be there to warm
And shelter you!
From the cold and the dark
As sure as the fire
That burns eternal in your heart.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fate of Love
you can save love as secret
though you avoid and hide
love only has two fate
it grows or it dies
you will fail loving someone
to be same day by day
it grows or it dies
you say broken heart
shattered love into thousand pieces
but it still grows or it dies
old memories bring love from the past
but only the illusion
somewhere in time
it grows or it dies
you can keep love in beautiful box
protect it from storm and darkness
but love only has two fate
it grows or it dies
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In A Dark Night Of A Cape Winter
In a dark night of a Cape winter
fog rises from the plantation of pine trees
of which the scent is suddenly sharp everywhere
while the slight wind does not even stir the leaves,
or the sieving rain that is falling days without end.
Days later the southeast wind howls like an angry beast,
whipping trees to and thro, pulling even big oaks
right from their roots, throwing squalls of rain
splattering like continuous buckshot against the roofs,
against window panes and the coldness creeps in
and like a child you wonder when the angry beast
will again go to rest; go back to its hidden lair.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Indian Serenade
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me--who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream--
The champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart;
As I must on thine,
Oh, beloved as thou art!
O lift me from the grass!
die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;--
Oh! press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Arise from Dreams of Thee
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me -- who knows how? --
To thy chamber-window, sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream, --
The champak odors fall
Like sweet thoughts in a dream,
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O, beloved as thou art!
O, lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fall!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale,
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My Heart beats loud and fast
Oh! press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nature Of The Beast
It is the key to all the doors,
It is the crashing on the shores.
It lives in your steering wheel.
It hides in the wind and rain,
With voices as cold as steel
Its calling your name
It is the smile upon his face
It is the winning of the race.
It lives in the red-alert.
It lives in the power game
Its easy to take to heart
But harder to tame
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
Without all this heat
Theyll be dancing west to east
This is the nature of the beast
It is the glowing in his eyes
It is the reason for his lies
How many know youre there
How many play your game
Hes always the man to dare
Youre always to blame
It is the need to understand
It is the trigger in his hand
It lives in the uniform
It grows from the need to gain
With faces so old and torn
Its calling your name
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
This is the nature of the beast
(this is the nature)
Without all this heat
Theyll be dancing west to east
This is the nature of the beast.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Winter Whispering...
Winter Whispers …
In The Cold and Dark
As A Frosty Mist,
Her Breath Departs
Her Low Timbre
Sends Shivery Chills
Winter Whispers …
Trembles and Thrills
Winter Whispers …
Thru The Cold and Dark
Secret Confessions
Glitter and Spark
… A Rendezvous
A Liaison
On A Moonlit Blanket
… Love-Spun
… Wispy Words
Like Tendrils of Smoke
Freezer Burns and Brands
… Moans Spoke
A Trenchant Touch
But Innocent Tone
An Elemental Power
Of Her Own
Tho’ Stormy Night
There’s No Blustery Call
Just A Calm Hush
Soft As Snow Fall
Each Time She Meets
There’s Thaw In Speech
As Winter Whispers
What She Seeks …
… A Solid, Block-Season
Of Icy Swells
And Climatic Echoes
Of Avalanche Tales
Her Final Wish
Is To Leave Her Mark
Her Fading Sound
Sibilant and Stark
As Winter Whispers …
… Cold and Dark …
Slowly Melting
Any Bitter Heart
Written & ©: 3/19/10
By: The MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Four Children
A Ballad of Good Intentions
Four children played by an old oak tree,
Big John and James and little Benjie,
And, threading a chain of daisies fine,
On the leaf-brown sward knelt Geraldine.
Quoth John, 'I'll ride on the gipsies' road,
For narrow space and a small abode
Would break this vagrant heart in me,
And the world is wide and good to see.'
'I'll stay,' said James, 'for my father's sake
From his ageing hand his toil to take,
So he have at last his heart's desire
To sit at ease by the glowing fire.'
'I shall not work,' said little Benjie,
'Nor roam the world that is fair to see;
But here I'll stay in the green beech wood,
By my mother's side and I'll just be good.'
Linking her chain sweet Geraldine said,
'Big John or James I will surely wed;
I soon must choose which shall best please me,
I care not at all for little Benjie.'
The oak grows brown and the oak grows green
The owl and thrush on her branch have been;
For fifty winters a snood of snow
She wears all white till the spring winds blow.
For fifty autumns a robe of red
She wears till the wet west wind has fled,
But ne'er from dawn till the dusk of day
Hath she heard the sound of a child at play.
Big John grows old and all full of care,
He works till night in his oaken chair;
His feet have led him not long nor late,
No more than a league from his father's gate.
Where yew trees wave and their dark leaves shed
Young James lies cold in his four-foot bed,
O soft did his father lay him down,
And over him drew the earth so brown
In a far-off land on a lonely height
Geraldine weeps full many a night,
And prays all day 'neath a gallows tree
Where hangs the corpse of little Benjie.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
New York Winter Mornings
New York winter mornings,
bitter, dark, wet.
I trudge through the snow,
my collar turned to the cold and damp.
A lock of hair peeks out of my hat, and dances with the wind,
I shove it back in, and struggle on.
Children play in the snow, throwing snowballs at each other,
laughing, skipping, their cheeks flushed.
I look up at the skyline,
The Empire State Building standing strong,
dark against the grey sky.
I get to my apartment,
stamp the snow from my boots and unlock the door,
hang up my coat.
I look out of the window, the snow is falling again.
Weather report says there's more on the way.
A New York winter morning.
poem by Zaila Ayre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Snow Flakes
as i look out of my window i see snow flakes
blowing all around landing gently on the ground.
the falling flakes set my heart all aglow.
as it makes a blanket of pure white snow.
creating such a beautiful sight.
the snow just like a heart can be gentle to the touch
yet! cold as ice.
if you plan on playing with it you better think twice.
the heart is the most complex part of the human body
it controls the entire anatomy.
so as the snow trickles down and creates a picture of purity.
and its coldness touches my bones
in my heart grows the warmth of a fire
with all of its desire.
to melt the coldness in your heart
just so you could see.
even the coldest of hearts can belong to me.
but when you want true beauty look up to the sky.
it is not the snow flakes coming down
but the love of god which is all around.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Enceladus. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
Under Mount Etna he lies,
It is slumber, it is not death;
For he struggles at times to arise,
And above him the lurid skies
Are hot with his fiery breath.
The crags are piled on his breast,
The earth is heaped on his head;
But the groans of his wild unrest,
Though smothered and half suppressed,
Are heard, and he is not dead.
And the nations far away
Are watching with eager eyes;
They talk together and say,
'To-morrow, perhaps to-day,
Euceladus will arise!
And the old gods, the austere
Oppressors in their strength,
Stand aghast and white with fear
At the ominous sounds they hear,
And tremble, and mutter, 'At length!'
Ah me! for the land that is sown
With the harvest of despair!
Where the burning cinders, blown
From the lips of the overthrown
Enceladus, fill the air.
Where ashes are heaped in drifts
Over vineyard and field and town,
Whenever he starts and lifts
His head through the blackened rifts
Of the crags that keep him down.
See, see! the red light shines!
'T is the glare of his awful eyes!
And the storm-wind shouts through the pines
Of Alps and of Apennines,
'Enceladus, arise!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter Evening
The storm wind covers the sky
Whirling the fleecy snow drifts,
Now it howls like a wolf,
Now it is crying, like a lost child,
Now rustling the decayed thatch
On our tumbledown roof,
Now, like a delayed traveller,
Knocking on our window pane.
Our wretched little cottage
Is gloomy and dark.
Why do you sit all silent
Hugging the window, old gran?
Has the howling of the storm
Wearied you, at last, dear friend?
Or are you dozing fitfully
Under the spinning wheel's humming?
Let us drink, dearest friend
To my poor wasted youth.
Let us drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts at least will be lightened.
Sing me a song of how the bluetit
Quietly lives across the sea.
Sing me a song of how the young girl
Went to fetch water in the morning.
The storm wind covers the sky
Whirling the fleecy snow drifts
Now it howls like a wolf,
Now it is crying, like a lost child.
Let us drink, dearest friend
To my poor wasted youth.
Let us drink from grief - Where's the glass?
Our hearts at least will be lightened.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Winter of Discontent
I remember a winter a few decades ago.
Where our dear England was covered in snow.
It started on Boxing Day with a blizzard from hell
then in the course of a week the snow just fell.
This once green paradise was now a shroud of white
and everyone was suffering from chillblains and frostbite.
Outdoor life was like an indoor fridge
where everything had frozen like a mountain ridge.
Abandon lorries on the side of the road
men were freezing even their load.
Villages cut off all over the land
so in came the troops to lend a hand.
This was the winter of discontent that lasted from
Christmas, and way past Lent.
As one lot of snow cleared, it would return again
to bring freezing cold tempretures and a lot of pain.
Wind would blow both night and day, and still the snow
never went away.Drifts of snow standing six foot high
just being topped up with snow from a winter sky.
So what of this winter of ice and snow
one that happened a few decades ago.
I remember it as one that was cold and wild
because in the summer God presented me
with my first born child.
In this year, where snow fell in December
it was the coldest winter I will ever remember.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Field Of Absence
in the field of absence
i may find you
as a flower
or a a worm
of someone else
as i stare
at the clouds
asking who owns you
and who owns me
finally i nod
at all the leaves
meeting me
someone owns
you
the western wind
no one owns me
as i decide
to fly east
where the wind
is as soft as silk
i have grown
a pair of wings
you ask
what for?
i am flying away.
you ask
why?
i have no answer
but it is this
why that moves
everything
inside me
i ask too: why?
it keeps on moving
it is silent
it is bitter
it is as deep as a
black river.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Old Fires
The fire burns low
Where it has burned ages ago,
Sinks and sighs
As it has done to a hundred eyes
Staring, staring
At the last cold smokeless glow.
Here men sat
Lonely and watched the golden grate
Turn at length black;
Heard the cooling iron crack:
Shadows, shadows,
Watching the shadows come and go.
And still the hiss
I hear, the soft fire's sob and kiss,
And still it burns
And the bright gold to crimson turns,
Sinking, sinking,
And the fire shadows larger grow.
O dark-cheeked fire,
Wasting like spent heart's desire,
You that were gold,
And now crimson will soon be cold--
Cold, cold,
Like moon-shadows on new snow.
Shadows all,
They that watched your shadows fall.
But now they come
Rising around me, grave and dumb....
Shadows, shadows,
Come as the fire-shadows go.
And stay, stay,
Though all the fire sink cold as clay,
Whispering still,
Ancestral wise Familiars--till,
Staring, staring,
Dawn's wild fires through the casement glow.
poem by John Freeman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Dream
To soar like an eagle through canyon
So close we could never let go.
The wind be our only companion
As we leave it behind down below.
Like Icarus we fly toward the sun
But starlight will guide us away.
Our lips touch, now we are one
Heaven just called us today.
We make love on a cloud as we used to
Your eyes need no light from the moon.
Love's ember gaze wins my heart true
Your soft voice in angelic tune.
So dream when the wind wakes the trees
Our passion still roars as it's burning
That lion brought us to our knees
Eternal hearts beat a ceaseless yearning.
To feel our hearts embrace
One breathless kiss will save our life
Wherever we run or chase
Destiny still holds the knife.
So apart then we struggle and bleed
Bodies ailing as faceless days wither
One look and you know we'll be freed
As the wind whispers no time to dither
And my love will shine from a star tonight
If you stand by your window
Your heart could take flight.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Destination Snow –Sonnet #52
In red snowsuit she’s headed for snow
Hands on window ledge grin spreading
Crisp, warm contrast to the white ice below
Ready for snowmen, angels and sledding
Her boot plunges till its up to her knee
A little red puff suspended in ices
She’s moving slow so I let her go free
She reaches for whatever entices
Momma pushes snow out of the drive way
Scraping the bottom till seeing pavement
Then my child cries loudly ending her play
Red cheeked and cold, her posture slightly bent
We drink hot tea away from the wind’s blow
Yet soon we will crave destination snow
poem by Stephanie Eve Kane Arado
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!