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Juno Nov 2020
my feelings threaten to take hold of me
like frost to the ground
i know they’ll leave me frozen solid
Marie Nov 2020
Frostschäden
Fröstelnde Stimmen
flüstern aufgewärmte Worte
Wirbelstürme des Bedauerns vereisen
Syntaxlandebahnen
*Syntax = Wörter werden zu größeren Einheiten - etwa zu Sätzen oder Phrasen
Erian Rose Nov 2020
Winter days falling near
And pedals dancing upon the rain.
What I wouldn't give to
Have you here,
To the bloom of lilacs
Encased in frosted snow.
Zack Ripley Oct 2020
As the morning dew turns to frost,
Once again, we are blessed by beauty.
But at a cost.
For humans, the cold isn't much fun.
But ask a husky, they'll say they love it.
Because it gives them
the energy to play and run.
Eventually, we love it too.
It brings the promise of family, food, and something new.
Francesca Grey Oct 2020
there are girls made of storms,
and girls born of fire;
but the ones I love best are roses.
they’re beautiful, with thorns,
and roots that reach deeper than the winter frost.
Laura Sep 2020
laughing til we cried
four hour high
climbing through windows
for a skyline view
summer was dying
magic was chaining memories
in a captivating stare
engulfed in warm air

today is your birthday
a bittersweet refrain
my skin chilled by frost
skies cloaked in gray
longed to reach out
but had nothing to say

every syllable
a dance from your lips
echoes within these walls
tenderly grips
wrapped in a memory
like a gift bestowed
kept where they belong
a soulful song
Norman Crane Aug 2020
Two posts emerged on my Facebook,
And sorry I could not peruse both
And be one user, long I stood
And scrolled down one as far as I could
To where it went into a long blockquote;

Then read the other, as just as shared,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was classy and about footwear;
Though as for that the likes there
Had rated them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
I believe with no comments written back.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever tap back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two posts emerged on my Facebook, and I—
I read the one less thumbed-up by,
And that has made all the difference.
Gone.
It’s gone.
Lost in this Wonderland.
He tramples in a sheet of soft hail.
Chills crawl up his body like a spider up its web.
His lips form blisters and cracks.
His ears begin to burn at the touch.
His body turns bluer than an untainted ocean.

He longs to find what he lost.
The breeze hits him when he least expects it,
bitter cold punches in all directions.
The screeches of the wind grow louder.
The mist of his breath in the air fades.
All hopes of finding it are gone.

A shimmer of light grows in the distance.
His frostbitten fingers reach towards it.
The spirit of Jack Frost moons over him saying,
“My son, I have what you are looking for.”
His previously sullen face turns into a smirk.
Mr. Frost embraces him and gives him all he was searching for.
“Finally…” he says.
Warmth.
A winter Poem of a lost man who is given something when he encounters the spirit of winter himself.
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