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Nickols Oct 2014
His blue eyes are like glacial-lakes, wrapping around his heart till he's chilled to the bone from the cold.
A deadly place where treading is no longer permitted.
His eyes are transparent and distant as the impersonal clouds passing overhead.

Even as I stands before him, reflecting off him.
I am still merely a reflection.

He knows my face, I reason silently.
From the hills of my cheeks, down towards the valley separating my lips.

He should recognize it all.

Instead a blank expression greets me.    
A look of cold, solid insouciance.
I'm immediately angry with myself for wanting to justify his indifference's.

A reflex I've never been able to expel.
The vestigial limb on a skeleton.
A party favor from another time forgotten for the newly discovered toy.

I twist in the fridged winds wrapping around him.
My force giving under the great pressure magnified by his powers.

I never wanted to dance upon his breeze.
This realization makes me burn hotter.
My anger brighter than the northern star.

I welcome it, my amounting rage.
I embraces it with a raging smile.

His glaciers may be cold, immovable at times.
A pretentious notion I might freeze.

For I am the sun swirling in nova's ring and cannot be affected by his black iced personality.
Bottoms Sep 2014
sweat runs slithering snake
down neck.
should i
brush
my teeth again?

fridged food i haven’t forgot
chewed up
dental floss
goes between
teeth like
love
trying to         ruin its way in.
Angela Feb 2011
The coldness that pleages my fingertips
is slowly creeping to my heart
I dream of sun filled days
longing to catch fireflies in the dark

I lust for the touch of warm sand
as I lay upon the beach
I long for the echos of happy children
riding their bikes amongst the streets

Winter's fridged kiss
seems to numb my senses
I feel as though I don't care as much
That I'm losing my defenses
I need to find a new love
this one to cold to hold

I long for spring to come to town
give me a kiss of hope
melting old winter down
To bring me a bouquet of flowers
and a warm embrace of sun
Heat up the blood that flows so cold
Light up the passion that once was so bold
Ryan Clark Jan 2013
The wind sweeps the leaves from their home;
Chilling the air and silencing heat.
This is the season of passing
Solstice of winter sleep.

Though the cold wards many,
I do not own such luxury.
My mind sits restless,
focusing on carrying my weary feet...

This weather invades my heart,
as it is shrouded over me,
by stingy fridged lips
sapping the strength from every beat.

So as my joints stiffen,
As my lungs freeze,
My resolve dissipates
fading into the darkness that kisses my heels.

I must keep moving...
"till I hear the death bell's ring
or I reach my randevu.
Spring
Curt A Rivard Sr Dec 2012
Cold are your vial words sharp is your tongue
causing pain like winter wind your words tear
all of your torminting words all have stung
Blinding are your lies like snow I can not bare
your meare presence sends a chill down my spine
cruel your words bitting like FROSTBITE burns
your words cover my heart like cold white rime
you can be sweet but then your sweetness turns
your heart must be as cold as the north pole
sharp are your keen words that make me shiver
your winter cold words nip at my soul
your fridged stair makes me quiver
why are you full of hattred and sadness
Do all of your thoughts run on MADNESS?

P.L.M (12-14-92)






English Period: F (12-14-92)
A prized piece I've personaly been given over 20 years ago!!!
P.S we're still joined as one!!!!
Earthchild Dec 2013
Standing still on top of the frozen curve of the cliff
Listening to the sharp crack of the ice below me
Ghosts of steam skating on the opaque ice
Sunshine melting onto my flush cold cheeks
The winters fridged breath sinking into my winter bones
Mountains dusted with fresh snow
My pulse beating as though its a drum
Swirling winds within my lungs as I breath
-------------
Deep breaths
*Deep breaths
Curt A Rivard Sr Jan 2013
Do I now take the fridged
flesh......
bare left or right hand
and sign my
SACRED BOOK
with there hand
and with my
DIPPING PEN?
(SirCARSr. 1-24-13)
Traci Eklund Jul 2013
paint drips down your finger tips,opaque
the stentch of coffee, sweet colgne
engalfed in world far from what we've known

the stars are spinning, the world turns black
the fridged cold that wisps down your back
left there standing in a world familar, stone
but miles in thought in place called home

timid creature, a human being,
a man of wonder consumed by demons

where is the love you crave the most
a reflected shadow, a long past ghost.
the silent solitude grows and grows,
whos there to give answers, when you question why
to hold your shaking body, consumed by lies
where is there to wander,
when the foot prints have gone away
to make sense of these passing hours
morphing into days

bound to wood, a worn canvas, a man,
making sense of colour, the strokes, an extension of his hand
boiling over in sense of rage, across the palette a water haze
sensible man, turns his cheek in fear
I too turn away from the people I fear

the ones who betray,
the ones who you love,
the dreams you conjured,
the unknown you ponder,
the pursuit of happiness and love.

the reflection can be daunting
the person you see
I too am confussed which direction this life will carry me.

when the weight is heavy,
you can conflide in me.
or let the pencil be you guide
may the lines set you free.
may the shades of darkness and shades of light
give you comfort
may the hues of the seasons bring you closer to yourself,
or wallow in your tea and coffee,
sleep within your creation
explore your deepest wealth
life, the pursuit of learning to being human.
Connor Nov 2018
The metro station caged the slumbering metropolis
From this dingy mid-March town fridged in January wind
A ******* clad explorer marches in mellow strides
All the way to you
To back the lover's whisper spoken by static selfies
With fleshy whiffs, a borrowed jacket and a gawky face
Blind to but maybe fiddly pepples on the ground.

Down at a backstreet diner, its locked out doorstep,
A hygge cover made for two,
Humming low is the city's nocturnal remains' dubstep
Coming from an illuminating exit,
Luring the busy hands and buckled excitement, whereto ----

Whereto the vacant main street glides them
With the at ease traffic,
Down loops of everextending branches
I followed you
To the roundabout between
two surrounding glassware towers
Where gleaming sparks ***** on each other's windows
Divining themselves by lighting up pavements, entrance signs
and glooming heavens.

Corridors, lawned with clutters from refurbishments,
Lead to glassrooms of suspended business meetings,
And that cozy cavern,
Where you flump into a swivel chair.
Your inhibited expression unwinds
As my curious caress explores
The damp torso slumping deeper into the pliable seat.
And a devoted twitch of ecstasy, blossom unexpectedly
On your face,
Which already shied itself away from its audience,
Doubtlessly, for way too many times ----
A candid sight I could only cache from you,
Because I intend to see it again, your effortless reaction.
The sarcoma-like lump left uncut at the bottom,
Wrinkled like wind waves in a Ukiyo-e drawing.
I scoop the saline ripple, so you can taste it beforehand.
Our bodies started gravitating
onto each other or all over the place.
And lips, they startlingly perched,
out of wills, like magnets
For the very first time.

I've been feeling patient.
And I love taking my time with you
Tarryn Sep 2012
Hello my fair weathered friend
Been a long time since you've come round
Seen a lota faces
Visited most places
Danced with the devil and lost a few graces
In the spaces
You've been gone

So you're back, you say for good
What you got left to prove
In this ol hood
All the shouldas and the could
Everything you used to boast proud
For what you stood

Yeah you seemed anything but small
We thought you got most all
Then you tossed it most in
For a different life you thoughtd be a ball
But the final score
Has been proven fairly poor

Now you're broke bent and ridged
With a hard edge, you're cold and fridged
Couldn't keep a dame
Couldn't score a lay
You've got more nails than you do planks to mend those rotten and worn out bridges

So my fair weathered friend
You say you need a place to crash
Somewhere to stash that smokey hash
Got no prospects or even petty cash
You're a mild an irritant rash
But it's only I that myself can bash
For why do I persist with such incessant trash
Why can I never meet my final dash.
Earthchild Mar 2014
Walking through the sleep city
Brick buildings towering above me
Vines snaking along the walls

The cold wind clawing at my pale cheeks
Catching my long hair, tossing it out behind me
It sinks into the skin at the base of my neck
Shivers vibrating through my tired bones

Along the curve of my crimson lips
I breath in the fridged air, into my hallow flower lungs
Freezing me completley

Shoes echoing on the cobblestone walk
Passing small cafés
Young couples who smile and laugh
Serenading each other in soft voices
They are so inlove
Asolutley beautiful
Love
Romance
What ever it may be
Quebec City,
Never have I ever fell so inlove with a city
DaRk IcE Apr 2015
She was an eccentric one, living a life of solitude in the depths of the woods. People believed her to be a witch, having seen her using cauldrons supposedly conjuring magic potions for sinister spells. Her only friend, a black crow that perched on her shoulder as she tredded the woods gathering goods. The children often hid behinds tree's and bushes peeking at her in fear that she would catch them spying and turn them into frogs or something worse.  The supposed witch went on about her business preparing for winter months ahead. She dressed quite odd in times where women only worse dresses, she wore trousers. Thick, hand sewn deep brown trousers that she explained kept her warm in winters harsh storms. She seemed to have a remedy for just about everything, encouraging everyone's theory that she really is a witch. She used her cauldron to make herbal tea's and maple syrup to earn a living. She had unusual methods used in much earlier times to see if the maple tree's were ready to be drained of their syrup. The children had seen her thumping  a stick against the tree's not knowing that she was listening to the sound it made which told her if they were ready or not. Her methods, although unsual to current times were nothing of a witch. One fridged winter day a little girl found herself caught in a merciless snow storm. The wind howling fiercely, she was going in circles and indefinitely lost. There she lay face down in the snow passed out from freezing temperatures and pure exhaustion. Out of nowhere the supposed witch came across her lying in the snow. The little girl came to only to be face to face with the witch and was terrified. The witch pegina put her onto a sled and pulled her deep into the woods back to her shack. She poured her a hot cop of tea. The little girl was reluctant to drink it because she thought it was a magic potion. Pegina said, it's only tea child. The little girl smelled it and replied, it does smell like tea. She began sipping it and found it was most delightful. Her clothes were soaked so pegina had an idea. She offered the little girl a pair of deep brown trousers just like hers. The little girl laughed, she said, I'll look silly. They were dry nevertheless, so she put them on and to her surprise were quite warm and cozy. About then, the storm was letting up and it was time to get the girl home. They made the journey back to her house, before departing the little girl asked her a question. She asked, do you think I'll turn out like you? Pegina said, only if your lucky.
I had alot of fun writing this in my own words. Im interested to know if anyone knows where this came from. Please feel free to leave comments if you know or think you know.
Thank you for reading and participating
Ronald Ferreira May 2014
I knew i would loose myself in the cold.

Ive been climbing this glacier for too long,

enduring the fridged winds and deadly slopes of the hillsides.

This is my nature a frozen iceland i was so use to the cold.

The company of frostbiten limbs reminding me i still have

some warmth to my body. My heart pumping the last of

the inevitabally dying warmth for so long i tryed to fight the cold,

to make belive i can make it out of this blizzard to find that warmth.

Every fire i ignited died out taking with it a little more energy.

Now i lay here facing the lone night sky embrassing the siberian cold

letting the cancerous frostbite chill my core and crystilze my blood.

each breath a kiss of death,

as i close my eyes my breath slows and i feel your warmth
one last time the heat of your heart and image of your smile draw out one last tear.

It corases my cheeck as it rolls towards the ground....then it lays solitary, frozen in time
and i let deaths cold hands **** the last flame i kept burning in my heart for you.
Erin E Esping Jan 2018
I can remember people strolling down the damp streets
The smell soup gliding in the wind, what a sweet mixture
Potatoes and parsley tickling your nose
People wrapped up in torn shawls waiting in line, but content they were.
I can remember the clattering of teeth, the movement of lips
The expressions of ideas, so different in all,
No one was afraid to criticize, to call out.
People had a somber mood, no doubt about that.
But it was better than what was to come.
It was so much better.

I can remember the end of ‘29.
The dismal fall of our state, of our home.
Suddenly my walls were painted with bills of despair,
A cruel reminder of our payment that we can’t pay.
Since the Weltkrieg, I was told to hate those Amis.
They destroyed our Economy, and I know they wish they didn’t
Because in that vacuum arose a grim beginning
And in ‘33 our world as we knew was to crumble at our weak feet.
But I can remember the future was foggy, so we decided to walk forward,
Yet that walk was instead a sprint to ultimate death of ideas,
And a sprint to the death of peace.

I can remember the deterioration of our lives and freedom.
Nothing was being spoken of the crimes we were committing.
Our friends were being hauled away to not be seen again,
But they were not our friends, they were only to blame, we thought.
I can remember the bitter september of  ‘39
When we took our east neighbor’s home and called it our own.
Not knowing what we had started, we trudged forward
Handing 20 year olds by the millions gas masks and guns.
But they could not ward off the sins yet to become.

I can remember hating our deeds,
It went against every good and heartful moral.
My words were to suffocate in my own mouth.
Too afraid to speak up, but of course I was.
The harassment and suffering that would follow
Would be so emance I would lose all hope
Of a life that was worth living,
If I still had one.

I can remember the clearing of the smoke and gas,
The rising sun of September ‘45, a gleaming metal of promise.
And we ran out to the streets and cheered on our loss.
For our loss was our liberation, our emancipation.
And while our state layed dispersed and in ruins,
We were more put together than ever before.
Yet all good things must come to an end, don’t they.
And Berlin was cut and split once more.

I can remember the change in my street,
Named after that soviet hero, known as Marx.
His named controlled the Allee, and it was the farthest we could go,
Until the officers shoved us and forced us to turn around.
They say the sun rises on the east, but it really only shines on the west.
And this lack of sun drove our leaders fridged.
Calling for a blanket to insulate us in.

I can remember how cold it became in ‘61
The year our ‘needed’ blanket was made.
155 kilometers it spat on the pure soil of our destroyed home.
And when my neighbor tried to cross it, he was shot down
Blood of a friend tattooing the wall, ink spilling over like a broken pen.
Writing the grim truth of our situation, the lies trickling as a river.
If I could of protest it, I would of, but all those who did didn’t last long.
And if the hand on the trigger was not to pull it,
Gulags were to be our next home.

I can remember hating his deeds,
It went against every good and heartful moral.
My words were to suffocate in my own mouth.
Too afraid to speak up, but of course I was.
The harassment and suffering that would follow
Would be so emance I would lose all hope
Of a life that was worth living,
If I still had one.

“...Open this gate! ...Tear down this wall!”
The words flowed past the barrier into our ears.
A second liberation, a second emancipation.
Please freedom, please drag us by our head and force us to stand.
Let us stand with our brothers and stand until our knees buckle.
I can remember the arms around me, the arms of my lost son.
Pulling me up from the depths of the east, until I was standing on the wall.
The crowd cheering beneath us and cheering beside us.
Free, this is free, I am free, we are free.
But nothing lasts forever.

Many years later, many years have gone through time
My memories linger, dancing in circles
Reminding me of the pain and suffering we went through
To figure out what it means to be us.
I can remember the days when everything seemed lost.
I can remember the days when we were a disgrace
A mistake in world’s code, an horrific accident that was never meant to happen
But time has fading upon itself
For a brief moment we knew who we were.
And then we remembered all that has been done in our name
Now we insist on cleaning ourselves.

Destroy us. Rid us of all things that make us us.
Vacate the room of all bad, and get rid of all good too.
Nothing shall remain of us. Nothing good can last in our name.
At least that's what they want me to think, but I can’t and I won't.
I lay here, alone, abandoned, dying against my will.
My words suffocating in my own mouth.
Too afraid to speak up, but of course am I.
Silence is what keeps me alive.

I can remember being told to be silent
My mother whispering in my ear, “I know, Don’t say it.”
“If they hear you, you could be sent away.”
I can remember disclosing to my son through the thin black wire
“I can’t say it, they can hear it, and I would sent away.”
And now I lay in the skin of the scared man I have always been
Too afraid to fight back, too afraid to say my truth.
Unable to alter the past, and no control over the future.
No one is here to listen to the wise, to listen to those
Who have suffered through forced silence twice over.
But we are Germans, silencing is what we do.
SøułSurvivør Sep 2015
~~~

under a glacier
glassine bubbles form
never to find their
fridged way
to the

    surface

where they can
merge joyful
with

    the sky

my mind is

    submerged


my heart can
only see through
a window awash
with rain

always understood
by my flesh
but never


     my *SOUL
Inspired by a couple of poems
I read this morning

~~~
MarcellinaGrace Jun 2016
Warming of the skin
The moon akin
I am sun

Pure and clean I seem
Fridged white and gleam
I am snow

Some violent; some tame
Storms flow just the same
I am rain

Leaves scatter and flow
But stronger I may grow
I am wind

All above is null
Unless my heart is full
I am love
Rickie Louis Jul 2019
Most relationships seem so lifeless, just floating along aimlessly. Down desolate mundane oceans. Destined to be consumed by the dark fridged depths we call love.
Timothy Joyner Mar 2017
Everyone thinks that She's insane
She's locked herself up inside her own brain

Talk about the fridged fearful side
Or maybe she's lost up within her own pride

Shaming, gossiping is what they do
Thinking she doesn't even know it too
Oh, NO
Don't even think about it
NO
She didn't stop and quit
Hey
Your not even missing much
That tender, caressing touch

Could you even respect that special space
?
Would you even want someone in that place
?

Freeze-dried Dehydrated ****** She be
Looking like a Widow crying at half past three

Freeze-dried Dehydrated ****** they laugh
But at least she's not ending up getting staff

It's a simple cause
Her heart's like puppy paws
Very
Very
Very sharp Claws

Doot da Doo da do do long day
Freeze-dried Dehydrated ****** living all
The live long day
I haven't written anything for so very long. Most everything I've posted is several years old. It's nice to get started again. I'm grateful for Hello Poetry for giving us this space.
Nidhi Jan 2021
You're afraid of the fire
every time you see it
every time you put your hand out to the fire you pull it away
you pull your fridged hands back inside the handwoven pocket
are you afraid shes different?
why are you afraid of the fire?
why are you afraid of getting burned?
i put my hand gently in her hair
I kiss her soft lips
the fire.... the fire doesn't burn
it feels warm against my umber skin
I don't feel cold in the fire
why are you afraid of the fire?
the fire shares the same oak as us
I love the fire on my skin
Before the guy with the girlfriend was even gone there came another guy with an interest in talking to me, he came in the form of a snapchat friend request

You see this second guy had shown interest in me way back in first semester grade nine french and I guess he finally decided to give it a try
I guess its important to mention that this guy and the guy with a girlfriend were best friends. And despite sharing flirty glances in the hall for two years, I'm almost entirely sure that what compelled him was finding out that I kept taking to the first guy despite knowing he had a girlfriend, I guess finding out I was dirtier than he thought was a turn on. But than again ill never know for sure because theres no way in hell I could ask him now.

I could never figure out if he just wanted to **** or if he wanted a relationship, he never begged for nudes and he asked me out on dates, we talked everyday for a while but I was a *****, cold and fridged. See this story centers around three people and of the three I thought he was the least attractive hence my cold attitude.

At least I know I was a *****
Annie Dark Aug 2016
Your ice storm continues

Only
pausing to smell the frost bitten roses

Of your own creation

On your own time
Wrapping your young in fridged walls that resemble egg shells 


Call that spring

Call it summer


It’s
 always the same

And now, the youngest

She’s taking it to heart


It’s
 coming out in deep breathes

Of toxic air
She's named them, Tina
She wants to set flame to it all
I think I’ll let her
I

Think
I think
I’ll save her
And then watch it burn
Murphy Feb 2019
Livid seems to limit peace and rigid dreams all bend and crease. But when it reads that sin is glee an instant leaks to minutes brief. but in a week the fridged freeze and irish creeps all tend to scream. Then a truthful lass can speak through glass and Scottish tact is felt at last. and on my lap a window gaps the distance that is on the map. While I am trapped I tear and scratch at all these straps that hold me back Id like to crash just where your at but care was never spared for that.
I write these words
Hoping to draw a soul to share my quiet nights.
Where emptiness eats away at my soul like acid.
I'm a bright and loving man...yet not a word has yet to be spoken....frights
Fridged and empty hours fill my mind like the cutting of the ticking of the clock.
"Why can't women see the good in me? See my beauty? My worth of my pounding big heart that yearns for love and passion?"
"What creative beauty I bring as I ask for nothing? Is there not a way that I can earn another to mend my broken heart?"
"Why must I be the one who has to be alone and like it for people to see strength in me that has been built up, in me, since my life's start?"
Patiently, I await the voice who will answer.
Who will see my kind natures.
Who will cherish my brilliance and my worthy soul?
To furnish this lady with true love and never shall I give into idolizations of her flesh?
To the gods, above, I implore thee "cease this love curse that continues to take on me it's toll"
As I fall asleep, tears dripping upon my pillow. It is I who is happy to weep. As one day my light shall be seen by the one who is right.
She shall answer my aching heart with the miracle of a truer show.
Of a love that sees the best and most purest of innocence in me.
It shall be us two to show the world how true love does conquer all and this miracle shall shine on all others as us two fly away...
Upon angels wings... we love each other, forever, free.

— The End —