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neth jones Mar 2023
molded ***** sky
broody welling grey udders
rain to be cast or snow ?
winter - February - 2023
neth jones Mar 2023
muddied skies muffle
clarity that was winter
season blots
winter - February - 2023
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
First people stories,
start with mothers and fathers,
then brothers and sisters,
and imagined others whence stories
fall from, as snow today,
scenes, pages of life,

set as those who have known too much,
and those who have known too little,
access
knowledge, acknowledged, learned,
out there,
in that power quelling blizzard
of possibility enforced restrictions
on base structure
of snow, not
of story, not
of musing…

The push pull process proceeds.

Line upon line, inner being asks,
all connected to this mission,
report for 2/23/2023.
     - pause a time
think a minute,
adjust the hour and the day,
be the sieve, the filter seen through,
life in the winter on earth is as hard
as it ever was, for some breathing today.

Every where war has sides, Earth has hells.
- where rebbi say Jerusalem is.
- Imagine that, then find it realized
- Hell is where the use of known-edge stops.
- Bleibe doch, Cretan code, all men lie,
- but not all the time.

Mother's birthing children in the thrall
of natural calls
to performance, as when the class
of shapes take
to proving

there is more to every thing,
than meets the ancient unaugmented eye.
Shame-man, the actor,
the action takes no anxious thought,
laugh at the lazy clown,
all callings bring Diogenes, the accuser
of the abusers
of innocense,
on snow days.
Speak
of the devil, and who should appear,
often said as if the speaking caused me.

Been and
done,
does not mean I feel nothing for the hungry,
does not mean my wishes become prayer,
if
at the instant the wish was actually wished,
it was the same as prayer, psalmist mode,
pen in hand ready writer reading mode,
node to node across the spectrum
listening to snow fall - listen silence such
as few can form, but in context,
instants in praise of beauty undefinable,

as with the first mind to know,
I was beguiled, made to believe
a non-truth base, formed first from
a child's mind's 'splain-ation,
a point made and spread so thin,
and flat, plain truth 2-d, by God,
flat land… bent
as like as not, a wrinkle, plain flat re
ality in ifity, wrinkled once, creased, re
ason, as when for another, a next, re
collected sylabbles, silliness sets in,
amen. on.
{some time passes}
Children live on my hill, and I proved,
according
to the story,
of the first snow
Brynn remembers, when Grandpa proved
a trash can lid makes a fine downhill ride.
Or was that on pine needles?
But it worked.
Desert kids don't own snow toys,
they make'em up.

Like poemlets.

Desert snow, so
pure a white.
Trite right tight
time
to assert a fact… not absolute.
To form an other point,
a there
to reach for,
as a shape
conforms
to the spirit laws of snow;

Ifs in Hell say, if you think this is bad,
think this is not a snowball,
otherwise,
take the fall, my side won, it is a good day.

-- btw ring in Latin is ****, plural
I can't say, but a guy on TV spake
of ani as plural iceholes.
- any drift in the wind,
- any port in a storm.

No two crystals identical,
the whole white
cloud form wrapping the valley,
brilliant deep white mass forming
greater gravitational unity as we fall
together, in praxis fractal thinking form
informing intelligent specie
for exchange, free as may be, my realm,
right, so
my rules, click, preset character trait,
pride
of knowing one alone is always right.

Numbering reasons to believe,
the odds demand a means
to know
why something knows,
no two crystals blown
in this cloud
identify as another's match
in time,

freezing points
of wonder, the stuff we use
to recognize dangerous beauty.

= Earth, the economical ecological genius,
of the being, abstracted,
time and chance wise,
in theory,
just so
per no-higher mind preachers,
only more power teachers,
clumps
of snow fall together
from overloaded branches,
and roll down the rock I live on,
leaving a track, a trail,
Think Snow!,
timeless wedoms laugh…

remember,
bumper stickers were tweets
that went viral, with Baby on Board,
and the Baptist I FOUND IT ad campaign
became a revelation,
now that you recall,
those signs in those times, Jesus Freaks,
everywhere, man,
I been… this story is a life's time invest-
ment
al ways wise wound to the sound
of windless, drifting snow,
accumulating
reasons for the faith in me to function,
as hope feeling fresh, al
though I know,
traditional tyranny is preferred by drunks,
edge minds,
honed
to fit the Cheers mold, identify
the actors in your Netflix feed,
did you grow old with them?

Did you both go to a school with Narcs?
Did you both spend time on dark
streets, where devils linger
to tempt, according
to tradition,
is it easy being chosen, no,
but it's a life,
it's not eternity, we do not live so long.

A little while, I am with you, any given day.
Take my time and wonder, is it cold,
or are we old
and far from when we rest in peace,
on earth as it is in heaven, as we sleep.



and holy ancient lies live
to master the duty sense
theory that
makes beggars and kings

makes the world's become round
and center mass bound,

always falling forward.

Differing, minds in chaos, the common mess,
not evil, cable spaghetti
in string theo- knots
passing
fantasy equi-
valent masses charged and sent.

On more than one point,
perhaps, exactly more than one,
is enough

to take from the snow a chance,
to think as a future me might,

how hard it was for those whose lives
led to mine,
whose history is mine, whose stories
bred me, from many threads,
stories told by children
who never heard a story told,
but saw life is the story.

So they told life as their own story.

Yours and mine mingle in memorable lines,
Donne, if I know only one line true, it is
the one about the death knell… it ever rings.

Ringing rea-sons, whys ideas after hows
are found, fingo, evocative word, Latin
Massive simulation, bingo, be happy, luck

is, in fact a factor. The space alloted to hold
this thought, morphed
to allow the accumulated
gravitationally significant degrees
of verifiable differing… learning if another
-existed
as a
snowflake, today, using this pattern.
- Let is a verb.
- will is, too.
In mindtimespace, my realm of reasoning,
ours, in the sense, one book of life,
one of knowledge, contained in the other.

The flaming sword is a guide,
to the mystic liar willing to stretch a point
to prove it true.
On a day snowy day with power and a will to take away
Damon Robinson Feb 2023
Somewhere,
drones are dropping mortars on top of sleeping men. All the while the trusted corrupt are telling their truths to people grabbing what's left. Snow storms and summer droughts are no longer an event. While the world is changing in ways we already predicted, we choose to focus on why we're not the bad guys in this story. All of this, reinforced by the woke who are telling me nothing really matters anymore.

But right here,
I'm sitting alone on a winter night. I look across the street to watch a scruffy tabby knock over a dusty jar left on someone's window sill. Glass shatters across the lawn held tight by a blanket of untouched snow. I watch the shards cast miniature shadows, glistening as the porch light turns on. It was only for a moment, though, before I continue my attempt at writing about the beautiful things in life. Attempting - because these days it's difficult; because it matters. It matters to me oh so much.
@DamonRobPoetry
Anais Vionet Feb 2023
Bustling corridors, places to go,
you can’t stand still or move too slow.
Make a plan, plot a course,
there’s an entire campus to traverse.
Other things are good to know,
like the best place for lunch
or where the wi-fi’s slow.

Last year, when there was lots of snow,
the Yale tunnel system was the way to go,
to warmly get from A to B,
when paths were dangerously icy.
This year there hasn’t been any snow
it guess it’s global warming, you know
- or that Pacific weather pattern, El Niño?

I miss the Nor'easters and bomb cyclones
the hazardous weather that made Yale seem like home
those storms were something I took for granted
‘Cause I want snow drifts like they have in Canada.

I left Georgia and now I’m feeling cranky
I want the winters God used to inflict on yankees
I remember when blizzards, up north, were doctrinaire
to stop them now isn’t fair - or something else näm-di-'ger.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Doctrinaire: “an idea stubbornly held onto”

näm-di-'ger (French) = means a pseudonym
Zywa Jan 2023
I am enchanted

by the swirling snow, real snow  --


in a big snow globe!
Collection "The Yellow House Museum"
Mark Wanless Jan 2023
white snow hard as ice
old man barely walking with
cane happy to be
Carlo C Gomez Jan 2023
~
I know your glow
it moves on tracks
of never-ending light

illumine, my dear glimmer

an ornament of love
spiraling along
flightpaths to each other

one maybe a failure in flickers

yet another a successful sparkle
drifted down gently as snow
about the tactile lanterns
of your hands and face

~
Ira Desmond Jan 2023
Winter had arrived
overnight, and

we had slept soundly through it, the
snow smothering

any sounds that dared
try to escape.

The morning arrived clear and sunny
and cold.

I was washing the dishes in that
old kitchen sink of ours when I noticed them—

footprints through the snow in our backyard—I couldn’t
say how many sets there were—

starting at the back fence and
proceeding directly

to our kitchen window. You
told me that you were going to head outside

to shovel the walk, but I told you
that I would take care of it, and I put on

my boots but no jacket, and I walked
out the back door, shovel held tightly

in hand. The tracks traced
the full perimeter of our house—

they appeared to be searching
for something—and they stopped

right outside of her
bedroom window—I couldn’t say

how many sets there were, or how long
they’d stood there while she slept.

I don’t know what
compelled me, but I turned the shovel

over, hurriedly using its edge to scrape
away the footprints there beneath the

window, the grass beneath them still
green and struggling to breathe.

And when I came back inside
you asked me

what I was up to out there, and I told you
that it was too cold

to shovel, that we should put on
another *** of coffee,

that we should stay inside
and not face the day,

and let the children
keep sleeping.
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