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I love the month of February,
The shortest and coldest month of the season,
For an array of personal reasons.
And yet, it feels like Feb is the longest,
For the events that happen haphazardly,
Amidst treacherous winter storm blasts.
Quasi everything is frozen and solid near the nest
Of the American bald eagles,
Except the Mardi Gras masks under the rumbles.

February is the season of love,
The month of Saint Valentine,
A quintessential paradise cove,
Where lovers take refuge. Pure, Pristine,
Snowy, short, Pure, dark, and lovely; Feb is now
The celebratory month of Black history,
One wonders why and how
We get the shortest one. It's another story
That we should let the nomad seagulls
Decipher. No bathers on the sandy beaches,
Solely, a few birds are perched on the branches,
Far away from the cribs of the bald eagles.

February is a month of a kaleidoscopic contrast,
Where snowfalls happen quite often,
And ******* lovers dream warmth under a heaven
Full of hope, love, beauty, and ice.

Copyright © January 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Icy moon beams,
Follow dancing snow.
A clean white sheen,
Cast across the pier.

Waters ceased by icy means,
Frozen is their flow.
One moment crisp and clean,
On a winter pier.
Happy Thursday everyone!
The streets are frosty,
Blazing white with snow.
The academy has canceled testing,
Because a student has been afflicted with frostbite,
Icy sickness in his fingers.
Welcome to America,
You can go west and burn up,
Or stay to the east and freeze.
This is one crazy winter.
Raziel Dec 2024
A spark ignites, so small, so sly,
Born of a glance, a word gone awry.
It leaps to life, a sudden flame,
Feeding on fury, stoked by blame.

A roaring blaze, fierce and wild,
A tempest untamed, untender, unstyled.
It sears through thought, it burns through care,
Consuming reason in its glare.

For a moment, the world is ablaze,
Each breath, each pulse, a molten haze.
Tongues of wrath lick at the soul,
Devouring warmth, devouring whole.

And then—it fades, a cruel retreat,
Leaving silence sharp and bittersweet.
The ashes settle, the embers die,
Cold winds rush where heat did lie.

Empty now, a hollowed shell,
No comfort left, no tale to tell.
Anger spent, it leaves behind
A frigid void, an aching mind.

Oh, fleeting fire, so quick to start,
You scorch the soul, you break the heart.
Yet in your wake, a truth is told:
A flash of fury leaves only cold.
I'm burning inside
Zelda Dec 2024
Never learned to swim,
If I drove into freezing cold waters,
Would it set me free?
That icy cold grip could numb this pain,
Would instinct take over?
That icy cold rush could steal my breath,
Would I fight to survive—
Or set me free?
Idk how to set me free. Dec 14,2024
layla Dec 2024
In through the nose

Straight to the brain

That chemical drip

I attempt to refrain

White of the snow

Sparkle of ice

Set it before me?

Doubt i’d think twice
cant stop thinking about how just smoking isnt cutting it again.
Abel Dec 2024
Zu viel Finsternis in einem dunklen Kern.
Es ist nicht so einfach.
Nicht so schwierig, leicht, schwer.

Nicht verschwinden.
Du willst nicht verschwinden.
Du darfst nicht verschwinden.
Ich darf nicht verschwinden.

Niemandsgesicht, Niemandsgesicht
Du hast es oder siehst es nicht.

Eis zu brechen. Eis zu sprechen.
Das Wort ist Eis in deinem Mund.
Es liegt wie Eis in meinem Ohr.

Translation:
Too much darkness in a black core.
It´s not that easy.
Not so hard, light, heavy.

Don´t disappear.
You don´t want to disappear.
You must not disappear.
I must not disappear.

Nobodyface, nobodyface,
You have it or you don´t see it.

Breaking ice. Speaking ice.
The word is ice in your mouth.
It is ice in my ear.
An experimental text
A B Dec 2024
The icy river glides away,
In it, scattered, glints the sun,
Trickling out of a mountain,
Enveloping it all in a piercing yellow.

Yet it is serene;
No birds or music,
Just a glazing chill
Tickled by golden heat.

A time ago it was stronger,
Warmth filled the rushing river as if it were a spring,
Overwhelming yet not boiled nor burned,
A perfect, sleepy, tender mist.

But then, it decayed,
First mild, then to an acrid, consuming, cold,
Through which no ray could cut, until
The glimmering sun distracted the frosty river into serenity.

Now, perhaps, as the sun is eaten by the riviera,
As it stretches in passionate, auburn glory over the winding body,
The glistening surface might trick the unmelted ice.
But that's all, nothing changed. For this sun, it's time for goodbye.

This night, as glimmering fades to twinkling,
The river does not sleep. There's hope that
The chill will fade, feeling will return.
And as a new glow sprays the sky,
The icy surface shines as he weeps.
The Wicca Man Sep 2012
Autumn warmth
and rusted leaves hide
the shrouded chill lurking high
in northern lands,
mustering its icy warriors
to creep down in the night.

Keening winds gather dark clouds
about them cloaking the moon and stars
and with furtive breath ****,
the warmth from all about.

Icy blasts ravage the tired trees
as crystal flakes
cascade down from heavy skies;
beautiful, dancing nymphs
misleading my sight
numbing the air,
reaching out to every
crack and cranny.

They gather higher and higher,
blown into dark corners
climbing to my window ledge
as frosty tendrils slink down from the roof,
twining down my window pane
obscuring the outside from my sight …

Then, as morning’s pale light
oozes in through tight closed shutters,
I open my door onto a strange
and barren world:

all that was ordinary and familiar to me,
through verdant spring
and hot high summer,
to autumn’s parade of golden hues,
is lost to the white shroud of
Winter’s Creep.

© 2010/2012
Johnson Oyeniran Nov 2024
-Shivers of Winter


Down from the heavens came a host of pure white snow,

Dreaded winter has come to fill our lives with woe!
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