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Elin Roberts Mar 2018
i've come to realise
that with every fallen snowflake
the life of one unknown to me
is reflected in its icy self.
a snowflakes very existence relies on the individuality of its structure, similar to that of a human life.
everyone has a different story to tell
complicated to those who don't know
complicated to those who do know
complicated to all in a sense because
we sit by and wonder why
why are we here?
what is the meaning of true purpose when
uncertainty plagues the minds of all who breathe
living in a time when the youth of our generation are born into an age so filled with hurt
hate
pain
no common sense in a place where so many have tried to fight for the right of humanity.
all we receive is inhumane behaviour and injustice
uncaring and shallow acts when all we wish for is fairness and equality
you see, although every snowflake is different
their independent beauty co-depends on one another's existence
how can you have a blizzard with a single snowflake?
their imperfections bring out their perfections
each one has a tale to tell
each one brings out the beauty in one another.
similar to human life
have you ever realised the silent beauty in a cold winters snow?
how when engulfed in a snowstorm, you are able to accept peace into your mind, you're able to let go?
you're actually able to think for a moment, and realise
the clarity that silence holds
all that finally unfolds
when
you're able to take a moment for yourself and
let out the breath you've unknowingly held
you're finally able to delve
into a sense of true finality
a final sense of...
raw serenity.
i love snow
we loved her
through
them
wooden fence post

she fell
on
the
ground

she fondled my mind
while we mowed the lawn
we couldn't
get our
mind
back
till she
made me
lemonade

her bee sting
made my vision
blurr
we
want
to stay
we love
her
?


















...
..
.
watch me
mow
...
..
.
Äŧül Jun 2017
Northern part of my India,
It is worse when it is cold.

Far worse in winters,
Than in summers.

Many people freeze to death.
My HP Poem #1591
©Atul Kaushal
Äŧül Feb 2017
In winters,
Sunbathing is divine,
And soothing.
My HP Poem #1434
©Atul Kaushal
Arcassin B Jan 2017
By Arcassin Burnham

Cracking necks and sneezing to prevent
Pure evil from letting go your misguided
Soul from this hell and her hell and his
Hell is a lot different than what it might
Seem in his or her eyes,
We prevail,
To be human beings in these dark times,
Pushing and pacing and paving numbers of
The population while playing sick games,
When all we want is sunny days with fresh
Cut grass,
Playing Frisbee in cold winters and make
Beds for summer,
Some are quite good swimmers,
Some are good runners,
in the grass we go.
©abpoetry2017
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/01/fresh-cut-grass.html
Ye winter air is so cold and crisp.
Such invites shivers upon my lips.
Wearing the suit of armor to wage battle against Jack Frost
A melodic song "One Moment In Time"
Is Ushered into the moment by Miss Whitney
As we walk in memories
Proud that the loss of sun tans and the Summer Sun
was the only cost
To the change of scenes
In this Play of Life
Shivers up and down my cold spine.
My limbs involuntarily shiver the movement to Winter's act
Like such of a French Mime.
To narrate the Mid-Western Atmosphere
that works in the spirit of the Holidays
Such temporary cheer and jolly
are never here to stay.
One might only count the dollars and cents until the Christmas Lights
or The Monera Flames.
In my spiritual Nurturing
That this season of Jack Frost and The Legends of Santa Bring to me
Last all year long...For others to see.
Now , as this poem comes to a closure.
A wink and a smile to you
As excitement for the holidays is contained
while I keep my composure.
A picture in your head of great blessings and cheer
is what I long for in a world troubled and living in fear.
Be kind for this short time span. What does it hurt?
To greet Lady Luck and Liberty's Kindness with a flirt?
Cody Haag Sep 2016
Winter trembles on the horizon,
Afraid to return to humankind.
People hate because it's cold,
But to turn it away is to be blind.

The grasp of tragedy is powerful,
Insurmountably bonded to our lives.
Terrorizing our very dreams,
Prickling at our spines like knives.

Outstretch your hands to the snow,
Coax it into your embrace.
We have all known the cold,
We have all been to that place.

Do you know how it feels to writhe in this heat?
When you are frozen inside?
To see the lives of others continue,
While you struggle not to cry.

Equilibrium will be reached when snow is abundant,
Blanketing the ground like a flowing sheet of paper.
When the warmth recedes to another place,
When breath spills from lips like vapor.

Winter trembles on the horizon,
Afraid to return to humankind.
People hate because it's cold,
But to turn it away is to be blind.
Ayush B Jan 2016
Few people have heard the story,
Of the first snowflake to make the journey,
To hug and save the heating earth,

He travelled with wind for many miles,
To reach the ground he thought he missed,
He was dead as soon as they kissed.
Anand Prakasque Nov 2015
winters bring more poems,
as they cover a lot.
as they make it all silent.
as they brings us close to our warmth,
fuming from our skins.
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