#snowflake
The snow falls quietly,
a thousand small promises,
each one different,
but all landing in the same place.
They rest on our noses,
soft as the moments we’ve shared,
melting away before they can be held.
There is something in the air tonight—
not the cold,
but a warmth that hides beneath the chill,
like the space between breaths,
where words are not needed
but understood.
You are the stillness of the evening,
the way the world quiets itself,
not because it must,
but because it knows.
I watch the snow settle around us,
each flake a kiss on the skin,
a touch that stays only long enough
to remind us
how fragile and perfect this is.
The light from the windows spills out,
but it’s not the glow of Christmas
that warms the space.
It’s the quiet love we’ve carved here—
not in gifts or decorations,
but in the way we exist,
like snowflakes in the dark,
falling,
slowly drifting,
landing softly in the snow.
Jul 14, 2025
Jul 14, 2025 at 5:03 AM UTC
How destructive is your love?
I'm a snowflake in your desert sun
Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 3:16 PM UTC
I'm falling,
So catch me.
Like snowflakes on a winter morning,
Floating around so free.
Hold me close,
But don't make me melt.
Don't let me dissapear,
And let me feel what i've always felt.
Dissapearing,
Water dripping.
Cold into heat,
My soul slowly ripping.
I want to be freezed,
And held,
At the same time.
Always close,
Yet never mine.
Now gone,
Water on the ground.
Now lost and invisible,
For no one to be found.
So don't catch me,
Let me float.
Free and beautiful,
Like is always showed,
Before i was held.
Because i was pretty once,
But only before they made me melt.
-anoeska
Sep 24, 2024
Sep 24, 2024 at 7:45 PM UTC
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Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 10:09 PM UTC
Scarf around my neck
Watching snowflakes as they dance
Winter minuet
Jan 7, 2022
Jan 7, 2022 at 7:11 PM UTC
For a second,
suspended by the beam
of a street lamp,
a snowflake
sputters to the ground.
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 3:25 AM UTC
She's a snowflake so frail
Beautifully fallen , without any trail ...
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 9:03 AM UTC
Snowbird in the snow
Two unique creations
Part 1
White owl white and pure
Sits and watches .....
falling snow. Quietly.
Snowflakes created uniquely
White, light and heavenly.
Falling down in winter frequently
It was then.....
Snowowl was born silently
Beautifully unique,
don’t know what to say.....
Both Precious creations
Natures art all the way
Part2
Spread your wings
white bird and fly
high into the night and thrive
fly up while snowflakes are falling down , falling down, falling down!
sky’s own created diamonds .
Majestic bird of wonder
Created so divine
Wings like from an angel
White as snow so fine
Part 3
When you look up into
night
and watch skies falling diamonds.
While Snowowl flying winter high
You’ll see a precious painting,
on this blue canvas called the sky
And God our holy painter .
Shell
🐚✨
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 12:08 PM UTC
pink snowflakes
litter my front lawn
they will melt away
under the watchful eye
of a summer sun
leaving only a stone
surrounded by fruit
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 8:26 PM UTC
We hold these truths,
there is a Zebra tree on a tiny island
in Lake Wanaka on the relatively large island
called New Zealand.
Nation is not a valid variable to sort on.
So here, we sort worth on agreeing
we are equally
Natives of Earth. First yes.
More yeses follow.
Learn what you have done.
Know what you are doing.
Be good,
let the bruised flesh not rise in hot pride,
see we all are involved in evolving into ever
better,
so we think, perhaps,
others aboard my ark also think.
We are equal in this realm, each mind joined
junction branch root, not from
billions and billions of
Jahre zuvor,
წლების წინ
ts’lebis ts’in { Georgian script looks magic, eh}
Secrets in tongues died with the last word,
spoken toward unhearing ears,
… is it reality interrupting or
knocking needs gumming up the works…
--------
Field-wide signal, crisp and clear, some fell on idle minds,
that's fine , signal how are you.
You say, responsibly, My side is winning.
No one ever asks what that means.
The field the world,
war is the only story, Walt imagined,
he was infected, Whitman,
with a known' opinion
-- some wise and well-known
-- being arisen from behind the ivied walls
- I heard this in passing,
- anonymous did not say this:
the function for the sublime is to free us from the slavery
of pleasure
- on another vector, I heard this:
the need to heal violence, forces life into idle words
used maliciously, in tests of conscience-useness.
Poverty never hears the highest minded reasons
for the states of mind attempted by the
most curious among us
--- empty of the wy. ha… I don' know I glanced away
stat tic… what's missing?
--- its like any other day, it ends with me entranced
by the play of winds with dust and smoke and water
droplets too light to fall,
I take instant HDR images as the time passes and the art
appears, as if for me alone,
I am the only mental
being seeing this,
I have proof,
I'll show you, someday, maybe…
but today,
I got took t' school, behind the gated mental institution,
geni-used magi-like instinct-gut spirit-vapor
-- rumor has it, I went mad
caused
by you or me, I can't say.
But just the other day, I was thinking, you may remember
my sunsets,
you would have noticed them
when you stole my weedeater.
--------
No school of the prophets foresaw my death,
so far as I may know,
I am by chance, bon chance,
living in lines of consequential events.
And my birth was a quirk of circumstances.
As special as any multi cellular creature,
if the statisticians are aiming at
the proper means of measuring.
There remain professors who teach man is the measure
of all things, wrong, in my opinion.
Ha. I said that. Like to Cambridge, it's image in my immaterial
realm where all things men agreed to use for ever after,
are similar in effect to the Ghostbusters Marshmallow role.
My fingerprint is less than nine points similar
to your fingerprint, no matter who you are.
We are equals in that regard,
our self is commonly unique, as we are.
Our kind.
We, the people of Earth. The native species,
Whumo Sapient Sapiens is us.
Knowers that know.
Thinkers that think we know. There is no
they
behind the curtain
knowing anything that you may not know
as much
as you can swallow,
a bit per quantasec, after chewing fifty years.
In this medium,
it's me and you, object, subject, reject defect
if then or else
find that more perfect
union,
that knot that binds our minds in agreement,
this is that
which has no religious name, save good and plenty…
not the candy, but that's cool, I thought that, too.
We, me and you, since we think alike,
we could make up a mind and invite others
to take parts in grand epic dramas of ever
learning,
war never has arisen on a reason that reasons
rationally valanced toward life,
and that,
more abundantly…
Now, see those greedy folks,
look real
close,
see. You never see such a one, with a satisfied mind,
ever learning, never knowing everything,
happy as hell from a Sisyphean POV
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 9:11 PM UTC
The snow collapses on top of each other,
the crystalline flakes stacking up prettily;
winter is the season when
beauty falls in disarray
Aug 15, 2020
Aug 15, 2020 at 10:08 AM UTC
You are the snowflake
in the buoyant afternoon
where you fade away still,
when I look at you,
pure like a waterfall.
It crashes and I can grapple the sound,
the continuous wave where
the titanic lies down with its
thousand sweet ghosts dancing into waltz
and where the water's steep falls
deep down and deep
and beneath.
You are the snowflake
in the crisp of December
where you turn into a delicate sixfold symmetry.
Where you were as remarkable as white
and bright like the bustling car rides and bus stops
where even the coldness can be someone's warmth.
In every season there's you,
different from time to time
still, when I look at you,
you are as graceful, majestic
for the weather to cast its rain.
Forecast, bluer than the usual;
And when I look at you,
you will always be
the snowflake that melts
in the sunny afternoon
and a delicate sixfold symmetry
in the winter of December.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 12:04 PM UTC
I’ve had this snowflake.
Something so delicate,
pure and unique,
resting upon my open palm.
Such preciousness,
I’d never want
to lose it to the passing gale
or the spiteful sun.
So I held it in a clench.
And I’ve held it like that
ever since.
In my fist,
forever it will live.
Never again
will I hold it
in an open hand.
Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid if I did,
then I would know,
for sure that it had gone.
That it had melted
by the warmth
of my grip
and slipped away quietly
through my fingers,
and into the night.
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
I am melting.
There is me and us and the air between us.
The falling is the best part.
Will I ever start again?
See me crystalline, and marvel
at all of us different but packed, whispering across space.
The best thing I ever did was grow
into the shape I am.
I slicked the roads.
I slicked the roads
but in the morning I refract the light.
I am for growing, then falling, then rising.
For children not knowing how I came to be.
For curiosity.
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 12:27 AM UTC
One day I shall see a snowflake
and identify with its purity
One day I shall smell a candle
and let it fully fill my lungs
One day I shall listen to the rain
and feel it pouring down my soul
One day I shall sip my tea
and enjoy every gulp of it
One day I shall watch the stars
and see myself running with them
One day I shall look in the mirror
and recognise a beauty previously covert
One day I shall inhale deeply
and exhale as if for the last time
One day I shall close my eyes
happy with the person I've become
One day I'll love myself
just as much as I deserve to
One day.
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 2:22 PM UTC
Humble
Snowflake
Lonely little
Snowflake
Melting in my hand
A moment
So sate
So sweet
You remember
Nowt
Of dying
To simply be
How I envy thee
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 4:23 AM UTC
These pumped up kids with
their sugar coated noses?
Minds supplied with
hand guns and prickeled roses?
-
Eating mushroom caps?
Raising tax? Running away
from office FAX
and paper stacks?
-
It’s a lie! We aren’t the
lazy generation of non-believers!
A drug ridden nation
of gamer streamers.
-
Who the **** said we don’t stand
for **** We’re fighting
those that think that
climate heat is just a myth.
-
We ache for peace
in a world of
racist schemes
and broken dreams.
-
We’re out here aiming
so. much. higher.
When your mind is wired
by a narcissistic liar.
-
...And you say we ****
Take a look around.
This world is changed
by those like us
that make a sound.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 3:51 AM UTC
As consistent as a snowflake,
Counting up from one to infinity.
Free falling through this endless shape,
Contained within a finite space.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
_As his feet moved even faster, and he twirled and whirled and cantered across the stage, it was as if he existed in an indeterminate space - blinded by the footlights, deafened by the orchestra, absorbed in his own rumbustious choreography. Beyond the pit, in the anonymous darkness, the audience rippled and flared appreciatively in response. So he danced on until, with a final rapturous gesture of his outstretched arms, he plunged to earth as dizzy as a snowflake. And waited.
The silence shifted. The soft rumble of engine noise played softly in the background, while the chain-link fence rattled in the squall which blew fresh off the harbour. He opened his eyes and watched the cars crawling across the overbridge above him; the empty basketball court littered with yesterday’s snack papers lay in shadow. In the middle distance, a familiar figure walked briskly towards him.
‘Matthew! Matthew! You come here this secon’ or I’ll whip your **** right off, already.’
‘Yes, Auntie.’
‘What you doin’ tryna waste good time?’
‘Nothin’, Auntie.’
‘Ain’t that the truth, boy.’
As he stooped to gather up his satchel, Matthew saw out of the corner of his eye the concertmaster lower his instrument, incline his head, and begin to tap his music stand with his bow. From the balconies the first of a thousand rose petals began to fall with the evening rain, the applause thundered while the lightning clapped, and there in the gods stood his mother waving and blowing kisses at him, as he followed his aunt down East Street towards home._
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 10:29 PM UTC