At the Pond
As I looked around the pond
I see people playing in the snow
Laughing and throwing snowballs at each other
Making snow angles with great pride
Children sledding down the hill as if flying
As I look on the pond
I see people skating
Skating like soaring eagles
Twirling like tornadoes
But graceful as a ballerina dance
As I look around the pond
I see a people having fun
Enjoying themselves
Helping each other as if they were their little sister
I see a peaceful and fun world
But I
I am having no fun
No fun at all
For I am sitting on the bench
Sitting on the bench like a lost dog
For I am cripple
poem by Cassy Taberna
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Farewell To Winter
Farewell to Winter as it passes by,
To the heavy clouds beneath the gloomy sky,
And to the slumber of the snow-covered earth
That soon will be awakened to a new birth.
I'll miss sled riding on the steep hill,
And ice skating on the pond near the old mill,
The giggling of children playing in the snow,
And throwing snowballs at a targeted goal.
The shrubs and trees that were covered white
Will be replaced by new foliage and blossoms bright.
The colorful tulips standing tall side by side
Will sway in the Spring's warm breeze with pride.
Throughout the countryside, a new life is arriving,
Yellow forsythia and daffodils are thriving,
Birds have returned, filling the air with song,
Spring has arrived and winter is now gone.
I'll miss all the winter activities now at rest,
But I readily admit that I enjoy the Spring the best.
The offerings of Spring are delightful and bright,
A diversion from the arms of winter's might.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Another Day
The sun is finally shining, warming my skin,
The horses are poking their heads out of the barn,
The snow has lifted, revealing green grass,
The ground still frozen, ice still on the pond,
Playing with the early morning mountain due, in between my fingers,
Off the leaf of a rose bush.
I pluck a flower out of the cold ground,
The sweet innocents of the little pink thing makes me smile,
Twirling in my fingers ever so gently,
Smelling its aroma,
Such magnificence in a small thing,
The peddles softly brushing against my checks
Sitting on this hard wooden bench,
All bundled up, braving the cold,
Admiring my flower, seeing puppies play, and
The sun that I haven’t seen in weeks, say hello.
Awe how nature can silently sing.
All to the tune of the kitchen mixer’s bellow,
Someone is making cookie doe.
Yep this is a start to just another day,
Another day, in Oregon
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Bench
Sitting on a bench watching people go by.
Smiles and frowns, Stares and glares
Wondering what they are thinking?
Is it me greeting them one by one
Or me sitting on a bench.
The seat of comfort and distractions
a place to think and read
Feed the birds, Friendly chats
Surprising hellos, A lot of old fellows
wanting the seat, for they are beat!
Everyone's favorite seat
The bench of life
poem by Michael Peterson
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
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White Winter Gold..
I've been sitting and watching
as the kids from our town
take sleds up the hill
and sleigh ride back down..
from short ones to tall ones
from young kids to old
to them a big snow storm
is white winter gold...
Theres some building snowmen
some throwing snow balls..
others building snow forts
ignoring their mothers calls..
with their nose and cheeks
a bright ruby red,
and heads that are sweating
neith the caps on their head...
They just keep on sleighing
ice skating and stuff
making snow men and snow balls
They can't get enough..
I watch their parents build fires
that glow into the night
marsh mellows are roasting
It's a beautiful sight...
Time spent together
memories kept growing old..
are often the treasures
of finding white winter gold...
poem by Connetta Jean
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A Snowy Sunset
Snow Snow on the ground
Sun is sinking down down down
Trees trees covered in Wight
People gasp at the sight
Snow Snow on the ground
Animals scurry all around
Snow Snow in your hair
Stiffness and cold in the air
Snow Snow on the ground
People sledding down down down
Hot Coco and coffee inside
Why not go for another sled ride
Snow Snow on the ground
The sun has set past the ground
Lights light up the city bright
People every where say what a sight
poem by Miranda Will
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Ode On Snow
Snowstorms!
Piles of snow!
Soft, crystalline white snowflakes!
Feathered rain!
Powder snow!
Falling snow!
Up to the kneecaps snow!
Snow stuck on sidewalks and streets!
Snowballs!
Snowmen!
Snowdrift!
Sledding on soft snow!
Crunching snow!
Snow cones!
poem by M.L. Squier
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A Tale Of Winter
A Tale Of Winter
my wings of ice
flutter twice
the snow yet so white
my gleaming sun hovering at great height
silver birds gliding gently
icy snow flakes falling silently
my giant wings of frost
a frozen pond that once was lost
frozen plants shining in the sun
snow balls flying, oh what fun
a giant snowman standing in the wood
children playing like good friends should
a coal fire burning bright
a red robin about to take flight
my new sledge with only one splinter
i will never forget my beautiful tale of winter
poem by James Chaplin
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What Was Once
She would often stare at you
sitting by the pond
the summer sunlight
playing there
on the waters' skin
the holidays
having just begun
and she'd say
you do love me don't you?
and you'd look away
from the sunlight's dance
and reply
of course I do
and you'd see that look
in her eyes
like worlds
being born
and she'd say
Mother wouldn't want
me here alone with you
and you looking back
at the pond's water
would say
why is that?
what have I done
to cause her alarm?
Birds flew across
the pond
their cries breaking
the silence of the summer day
she moved her hand
and touched your hand
resting on the dry earth
because she's jealous of me
being loved I suppose
or maybe she thinks
we do things while alone
you look back at her
the way she sat
the skirt lifted
along her thigh
her hand squeezing yours
that summer
that love
the fresh life
of loving
the being
out of doors.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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Snow
It falls out of the sky
and covers the ground
turning everything White.
Children love the snow
throwing snowballs at each other
and building snowmen.
But older people don't like it much
glad when it's gone they often say
staying indoors in the warm.
Christmas cards have snow scenes
Yuletide and snow go together
even though it rarely snows at Christmas.
Snow represents Winter time
and coats, hats, scarves, and gloves,
hot drinks and rosy cheeks.
Snow to some is just like Marmite
you either love it or hate it
personally I like them both!
poem by Kevin Halls
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A Marvel against Odds!
Cold winter season depicts snow everywhere;
Himalayan mountains, Kashmir valley, Shimla
Even in summer are a resort to see snow ever!
Keeping coal fire close to body covered by blanket
Poor people withstand chill weather there ever!
Even in such severe weather condition people live!
Glaring white of snow everywhere makes eyes
Close or have a sun-glass to see out all day long
And people mind routine regularly without fail!
The thrill of skating on ice really makes joyful,
Keeps health in tip top condition to pull on well
And makes worst weather too best by play ever!
Making good of a bad bargain is an art man knows;
Deserts or snow hills, he marvels millions of years!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Be Lost....
you have been searching
for happiness and so
happiness did not find you
try
sitting down, stop the search,
see the grass
it covers a hill without really trying
try closing your eyes
and settle down like a stone sinking to the pond making itself
lost in the murkiness of the river.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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S-n-o-w
Snow is cold like a frozen ice cube
its crystals like a diamond
Its like fun to make into snowballs and chuck them at poeple
snow is soft like a warm fuzzy blanket
Snow is bad when it turns to ice
But snow means that the angles on heaven are having a great time haveing a pillow fight
Snow is a friend just like you
poem by Ashley Jensen
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Tortoise's feathers
Among the ruins I sat on a stone bench facing an isolated pond.
All of a sudden a tortoise came up from the muddy water.
And she's older than my Great Grandma it seems,
But she called me uncle.
Oh! How I am wearied along this useless journey?
'Hey! Uncle this isn't an ideal place to roam around,
I'll give you my feathers better you fly and try another place.'
I borrowed her feathers and said; 'Thank you.'
I flew the whole day but still I see the pond below
And I realized that I cannot fly anymore leaving the ruins.
* To the deceased Sri Lankan Veteran Dramatist Actor and Author Henry. Jayasena in gratitude.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I Could Have Told You
THAT YELLOW
SOLO LEAF floating on a very clear pond,
was it last summer?
will it really matter when someone is finally gone?
will the wind remember?
will the deep water of the pond be always true to its clarity and peace?
that yellow leaf that sank on the very clear pond on one peaceful day
will someone still remember?
i think, i will,
if i, too, shall live
longer than
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Eldorado Park
I sit on an isolated bench beside the pond
And I write these few lines in my pocketbook.
Oh! The black swan in the pond dragged me to my boisterous school days.
We called her 'Blackbeauty'; The dark girl with a huge back.
I remember once I passed her a vulgar joke and still I repent.
'Hey! My sweetheart could I borrow your buttocks as my pillow? '
She just smiled only and her pearly teeth that I never forget and who knows where she goes?
The faraway golf links like a paradise and someone strikes the ball with the club and it flies to the infinity.
Oh! If you could do the same for me then I could have landed on my native grounds peacefully.
In the pellucid water of the pond I see my wrinkled ugly face and I realize the gravity of wreckage in the uncertain life.
* To Alison, Jerry, Sandra, Denis, Max, George and the rest of all.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Bench
I saw her and felt very sad
There she was, thinly clad,
Sitting on a bench on a railway station,
Motionless, there was no animation,
No showing of any observation,
Her aura was one of devastation,
Although things were happening all around her,
Nothing seemed to make her move or even stir,
Actually no movement of any kind,
She was acting, totally blind,
No spark of recognition,
Or of making a decision,
Staring blankly into space,
As if lost without a trace.
I wondered what was making her this way,
All I could do for her, was to silently pray,
And watch the tears go sliding down her face,
Oblivious of the place, that was her location,
Which was, sitting on a bench on a railway station.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Read It When You Are Tired
Like jazz
Tension note with a perfect harmony.
It unleashed my tension for the day.
Throwing a stone to a quiet pond, something like that.
Sunset is melting onto the pond.
A Place Of Solitude
Everyone has a place of solitude
where the world cannot invade.
Where we can sit in silence
and enjoy our own thoughts
away from everyone.
A park bench by a pond
dedicated to someone
who liked the view.
A church pew
where people sit
and ask god to see them through.
Everyone has their own place
that gives them peace of mind.
A place to rest their weary body
and leave
the rest of the world behind.
Their own space
a place of solitude.
4 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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