En.Citatepedia^®.ro

First Rain (2012)

first rain, wind driven,
soaks my hair; into my face
flies cold grace, fills the

narrow gutters, streets,
eager fields, with life revives
this gray winter world.

poem by Steven Federle
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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 requiem of the flies

The rain is crashing upon my face
Its like God is trying to wash away my pain
I look down upon the puddles of mud
Thinking about all the things I have done

The rain is so cold

The dark grey gloom surrounds me
My life is not as it should be
And I don't care anymore
I find that Living is such a bore

The rain is so cold

My mind is numb, cold and blank
This world is passing me by
This world is cold and dank
And I wonder why I have not died

The rain is so cold

Abaddon holds no surprises for me
Under the pale moon I danced on my grave
And I am on my way to hell
I cant deny what is to be

The rain is so cold

My soul is heavy and stained and
I don't want to carry it no more
I carry two coins in my hand
Waiting upon the water's shore

The rain is so cold

The man in white comes for me
Pretending to walk on water
Feet stuttering, hips jutting
About to fall in and he is getting closer

The rain is so cold

There will be no requiescat for me
My apple of Peru has wilted and
The lord of the flies wont let me be
He crushes the flower in my hand

The rain is so cold

It was my last day on earth
The two coins in my hand my life is not worth
My soul knows will know no reprieve
From hell I will never leave

The rain is so cold

My life is to repand upon itself
It is destined to reprise
My song has not ended
But has repetended

The rain is cold

To the Archean I was sent
Where I was meant to repent
Repentir, pentir, paenitere
Until the worlds' end

The rain is so cold

From the puddles of mud I look up
And realize I have gotten old
All my years spent wondering,
And I have no story to be told

The rain is so cold

I can only hope to die one day
And start it all over again but
The lord of the flies wont let me die
I have become one of his flies to my dismay

poem by Leonid Gonzalez
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Don't Let Go

When brief day fades
and darkness fills your life,
don't let go.

In this sad land
when cold rain falls
and winter winds strip bare
the green summer trees,
hold fast my strong hand!

In the gray world
when clouds conceal
blithe stars, and even
the brightening
moon has
failed,

don't ever let go!

poem by Steven Federle
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On Hearing A Grey Shrike Thrush

The grey shrike thrush on branch of mountain gray
At twilight of a most Unspring like day
On October eve made damp by drizzling rain
And grey bird sing his same song o'er again

And freshening wind has breath of winter sting
Seems more like Winter now than middle Spring
And wind driven rain fall from the darkening sky
And still the gray thrush pipes his notes of joy.

I wonder why he sing so merrily
On low down branch of noble gray gum tree
Could it be that he can tell from inner eye
That tomorrow's weather will be warm and dry? .

Or could he sing that in some nearby tree
His wife on nest shelter new family
And he tell his neighbours this my territory
And I'm now a dad 'oh lucky happy me'? .

And why he sing should it matter anyway
His song at close of wet October day
The weather dreary for the time of year
But grey thrush's notes sweet music to the ear.

poem by Francis Duggan
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An Italian Sonnet: How spring fell into winter

In my childhood spring blew a vivacious wind;
Soaring onto all life with magnanimous form,
Emancipating the flowers from winter's rough storm.
It flew capriciously and landed upon my skin.
How immaculate the wind of spring blew
Possessing an efficacy which passed with grace.
My soul reverberated it, when all life grew.
Until spring passed; winter's wind stung my face.
My innocence then ventured into winter's cold night:
All sunlight has fallen with the snow,
The life from spring lost their glow.
I became lost fighting in winter's blight.
The years have past in winter's flow
Until i recognized my own inner sunlight.

poem by Andrew Burant
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A Song of the setting sun

A song of the setting sun!
The sky in the west is red,
And the day is all but done;
While yonder up overhead,
All too soon,
There rises so cold the cynic moon.

A Song of a Winter day!
The wind of the north doth blow,
From a sky that's chill and gray,
On fields where no crops now grow,
Fields long shorn
Of bearded barley and golden corn.

A song of a faded flower!
'Twas plucked in the tender bud,
And fair and fresh for an hour,
In a Lady's hair it stood,
Now, ah! now,
Faded it lies in the dust and low.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Winter Rainy Day

It is still raining
It is pouring rain
It is chilly and windy
It is winter day
The thick dark clouds
hanging over the sky
The gloom fills the air
You hear the humming sound
of falling rain
It is winter day
The sun behind the clouds
have shied and disappeared
The blue sky have been
painted gray
It is winter day
Winter is magical time of the year
When nature sheds it’s tears
Filling us with emotions
Bringing water
to the land and lakes
Just a reason we thank
The winter rainy day

poem by Sherif Monem
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The Whale

in the night-rain
driven from the river
'cross the railway-tracks
at traffic-lights

came face to face
with the ghost of a whale
searching for his jaw-bone
one-time strapped to the ceiling of a pub

and in the time it takes
the lights from red to green
in his eyes
thought I'd seen much more

as down the hill to the sea
at the dock-wall
saw his tail-light dip and fade
as he dived
tarmac deep
into the dark streets

and the gutters overflowed
with the wake and wash he made

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Weather love

The wind, the rain, the sunset

all in one place,

is it possible for such thing to be seen all at once?

seems to me like it is every time we have those occasional small talks

when the wind comes through

it probably means your words will be cold even if its June

but they glide by my side because

i know those harsh words don't come from your sweet heart

it cant be possible for you to be kind when you're feeling cold inside

let me warm you up

you shove me aside and say no

that's when it starts to pour

the rain falling down my face

because god knows how much it hurts

to be neglected and rejected

by the person who you'll give your life away

and when it rains it thunders

and life keeps getting colder

the wind and the rain threw me over

but next day it was over

the sunset took over

this must means you're okay

no more sadness or confused face

and you take me with you once again

and we are happier than yesterday

but who said its staying this way

the weather always changes

its an unpredictable world that i face everyday

but you're worth it

you're worth the chills, the pain, the pouring rain

and you're worth everything

when the sunset is visible again.

poem by Melissa Lora
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By the Sea

The Caves of the sea have been troubled to-day
With the water which whitens, and widens, and fills;
And a boat with our brother was driven away
By a wind that came down from the tops of the hills.
Behold I have seen on the threshold again
A face in a dazzle of hair!
Do you know that she watches the rain, and the main,
And the waves which are moaning there?
Ah, moaning and moaning there!
Now turn from your casements, and fasten your doors,
And cover your faces, and pray, if you can;
There are wails in the wind, there are sighs on the shores,
And alas, for the fate of a storm-beaten man!
Oh, dark falls the night on the rain-rutted verge,
So sad with the sound of the foam!
Oh, wild is the sweep and the swirl of the surge;
And his boat may never come home!
Ah, never and never come home!

poem by Henry Kendall
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Leaves of Amber

Leaves of Amber

A black rose of Fall;
Rare to feel rejoice,
rain to kiss and roll,
silent woods voice.

She comes like told,
a lone knot of miles,
her lips wet 'n' cold,
betimes distant isles.

One red wine bottle,
the poem away flies;
an inviolable throttle,
amid truths 'n' skies.

One sip in the wind,
and a dropp to oblate;
a touch of tips quint,
Blue Notte hue of late;

Cold spells in drops;
melancholy October;
dew reigns bud tops,
and leaves of amber.

Rain soaks her steps,
wind takes her voice,
wrinkles and schleps
a saddening choice.

Sails on red wine spill,
her drops of October,
Sky rain inks my quill
and leaves of amber..

Copyright © G. V.06.09.2012
/ PoemH.31481137

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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On Hearing A Grey Shrike Thrush Singing In The Rain

The grey thrush sing on branch of mountain gray
At twilight of a most Unspring like day
On October evening made damp by drizzling rain
And grey bird sing his same song o'er again.

And freshening wind has breath of winter sting
Seems more like Winter now than middle Spring
And wind driven rain fall from the darkening sky
And still the grey thrush pipes his notes of joy.

I wonder why he sing so merrily
On low down branch of noble gray gum tree
Could it be that he can tell from inner eye
That tomorrow's weather will be warm and dry?

Or could he sing that in some nearby tree
His wife on nest shelter new family?
And he tell his neighbours this my territory
And I'm now a dad 'oh lucky happy me'.

And why he sing should it matter anyway
His song at close of wet October day?
The weather dreary for the time of year
But grey thrush's notes sweet music to my ears.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cold Wind Waits

though the frost is gone, the
cold wind waits.
the robin sings while the
cold wind waits.
a gentle breeze
now blows the wheat,
but a threat of rain
will change to sleet.
the summer slips and the
cold wind waits.

though the warm wind blows, the
cold wind waits.
the traffic crawls while the
cold wind waits.
it's dark too early,
winter too soon,
light of the sun
will change to moon.
the weather turns and the
cold wind waits.

(2011-Bolingbrook, IL)

poem by Mark Money
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Autumn's Grace

The autumn’s dream may keep its dying grace
With flecks and shades of bleeding leaves and yellow.
The cold wind's scorch may wither the green’s space,
When fruits of green a bit more need to mellow.

And autumn’s tear on every leaf perceives
The cold wind, which scorches green so cruelly,
Till glass fleck shade of bleeding yellow leaves
The living world to meet its ground so coolly.

And autumn’s red may silence the bird’s voice,
When shivers of the tree the rain embrace
And nature's hide, having no other choice.
The winter slowly comes showing her white face.

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Moritura

A song of the setting sun!
The sky in the west is red,
And the day is all but done:
While yonder up overhead,
All too soon,
There rises, so cold, the cynic moon.

A song of a winter day!
The wind of the north doth blow,
From a sky that's chill and gray,
On fields where no crops now grow,
Fields long shorn
Of bearded barley and golden corn.

A song of an old, old man!
His hairs are white and his gaze,
Long bleared in his visage wan,
With its weight of yesterdays,
Joylessly
He stands and mumbles and looks at me,

A song of a faded flower!
'Twas plucked in the tender bud,
And fair and fresh for an hour,
In a lady's hair it stood.
Now, ah, now,
Faded it lies in the dust and low.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Asphodel

Dry grass is shifting
in chill autumn wind

soft hills once green
are brown once again

I yearn for the rain,
winter's blessing to fall

and spread wide white fields
of asphodel.

Gray stones mark my
resting place

deep in the earth
where I lie by dark lakes,

but in winter I crave
the fruit of the pall

Oh, spread wide bright fields
of asphodel.
___________

Author's Note: Asphodel, in Ancient Greek mythology, is a favored food of the dead and is often planted at grave-sites.

poem by Steven Federle
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From The Shore

A lone gray bird,
Dim-dipping, far-flying,
Alone in the shadows and grandeurs and tumults
Of night and the sea
And the stars and storms.

Out over the darkness it wavers and hovers,
Out into the gloom it swings and batters,
Out into the wind and the rain and the vast,
Out into the pit of a great black world,
Where fogs are at battle, sky-driven, sea-blown,
Love of mist and rapture of flight,
Glories of chance and hazards of death
On its eager and palpitant wings.

Out into the deep of the great dark world,
Beyond the long borders where foam and drift
Of the sundering waves are lost and gone
On the tides that plunge and rear and crumble.

poem by Carl Sandburg
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Teint Neutre

WIDE downs all gray, with gray of clouds roofed over,
Chill fields stripped naked of their gown of grain,
Small fields of rain-wet grass and close-grown clover,
Wet, wind-blown trees--and, over all, the rain.

Does memory lie? For Hope her missal closes
So far away the may and roses seem;
Ah! was there ever a garden red with roses?
Ah! were you ever mine save in a dream?

So long it is since Spring, the skylark waking
Heard her own praises in his perfect strain;
Low hang the clouds, the sad year's heart is breaking,
And mine, my heart--and, over all, the rain.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Like the Flies in Winter

like flies at the end of summer/we all slow down as age advances, as age, time and clocks advance/ the coming ocean of time/like London Bridges, we all fall down

Like flies in winter, near a cold white windowpane, who are slowing like molasses. Cold lonliness on one side/white paint chips on the other

Like flies in winter/flies in autumn, who are swimming throught the air in slow motion.

Not so much the flies of summer

godblessamen

like fireflies flickering in the end/we are here and we are gone,
we eventually burn out.

poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell
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In The Ghetto

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or hell grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me
Are we too blind to see
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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