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Mercury expands
As pinched faces are eased and
Flowers remembered
Hints of a thaw.
gracie Jan 21
this is a poem for
the little poetess
who sings through the day like
a yellow-feathered finch
and spills honeysuckles from her mouth
to those who do not deserve them,
the hopeless romantic
who wears her heart
on her overalls
and speaks her mind just in case
somebody hears her,
the silly girl
who welcomes winter
and radiates warmth
through her fingertips as if
her touch alone could thaw the world.
for hannah
Johnny walker Nov 2018
Winter long last has arrived
I'll hibernate In order to
survive lack of money lack
of heating the expected
harshness of long drawn out
winter days got to used to the
exceptional summer we had
await the thaw the arrival of
Spring again sun come bursting
Winter cold no heating no money I'll do
as the bears hibernate
oh Candy
was caught
of failure
to compete
or straw
her bone
with him
a dire
inquisition mired
in *******
that she
breathe there
adamant and
safe a
counselor  of
substance abuse
and yore
why is she there with him fend off counsellor.  a specialist in *******.
Josh Cheshier Apr 2018
I looked off in the distance, a horizon of mountains strung together, the whole range atop an alpine lake.

I looked out only to be fixated on your tanned skin wadding off in the water, the same skin that I’d watched darken in the summers sun, the same skin I became so familiar with under the covers of blankets and snow. Layered but much paler then than your tone now, it always was winter months that inspired warmer thoughts.

But there you are, you’re no longer the warm thoughts I pined to grasp.
You’re here in view and more than I could’ve ever imagined, watching you unlace your boots and rip your socks off in rolled clumps as you marched through the overly saturated banks still recovering from the past, the thawing warmth of spring at the end of a snow season, just like you.
Taking high steps, you feel the mud tugging at your heels, attempts to hang on, to cling instead of breaking clean free only to be washed away with another plummeting progressive step. Each part of you beginning to drown a little more in the experience.
Jenny Gordon Feb 2018
...asking if I'd "--left the kitchen because it was too hot?" as I'd brownies in the oven and dinner warming on the stove.  


Lo, nary voice flits through this warm pretense
Whose eye is April's in a trice, the pale
Blue heavns white clouds dim with four geese' detail,
And yes, a silent flock of birds which thence
Fly past, light flashing off their wings, a sense
Of deathly naught held like a notice frail
Warm hours are but a tease, as sparrows fail
To merrly answer, whiles I feign what hence?
Thin nonchalance, just as last night in tour
Where I "performed" sae poorly with a crew
Of local poets at the Lit Fest.  Were
Their kindness not Thy mercies, LORD, what through
Our vain hours should we answer?  Is't sae poor
I cherish 'gain these minutes I once knew?

I'd only thought in looking out the kitchen window on all that it was too silent in the kitchen sans bird voices, when lo, there were none to be heard after all. NOTE for L14:  in 2011 I used to hang out on the back stoop in the warmer hours.
Svode Oct 2017
The cold seeps everywhere,
through my fingers, onto my arms,
and directly to my heart.
The fire heats everywhere,
through my fingers, onto my arms,
and directly into my heart.

Will you light the fire,
to combat this cold winter I've dealt with,
and bring warmth to my heart,
and thaw it to let it feel again?
Joseph Riley Aug 2017
Love comes to you
when you want it.
It's a crying shame
I shall not want.
There's a rough skin
past my first offer,
in hopes of healing
for everyones sake.

First comes love,
then comes want.
The past lives fluid
between the two.
First I was silent
then I was lurid.
Everyone knows
the ending too well.
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