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Woody Jan 31
It’s not so cold here
outside, I mean
on the southern coast of NC
not as cold as, say NYC
or Chicago, or maybe N. Dakota
but on the inside I’m feeling
like my heart is stuck in Minnesota
a bit frostbitten, flying on the wind -
chill, like a butterfly from Chile, lost
and frozen to a snowplow’s windshield.
Jack Jenkins Feb 28
my heart is sunburnt on the outside
frostbitten on the inside
//On love and life//
Title refers to a method of cooking steaks. Look it up if you'd like.
hypotheses Feb 2018
Your arctic blue eyes
Light my heart on fire
Your cold flames of ice
Burn me
Yet I only feel a slight chill
As my heart erupts into electric blue flames

Your frost-bound lips brush against mine
And my frostbitten heart
Melts
But freezes again as they leave
And forms a shell as hard as stone
And as cold as ice

Yet you leave me
Cold and unprotected
The turquoise embers still smoldering
Maybe I should fight ice with ice
But your hypnotizing gaze
Pierces into my soul and ignites it once more

The world bows to my will and power
But do you?
I am invincible from everything
But from your soul of ice
Your cold flames
And your arctic blue eyes
jane taylor May 2016
the first drop of water
not ice
from the sky
signals the season’s
change

new england
so pretty
looking angelic
drew me in
a venus fly trap

locked in a prism
snow reflecting
back to me
eerie thoughts
shrouded in black

no place for a runner
where I can escape them
locked in by the fireplace
tattered ashes
mockingly laugh

i flee and i run
minus eight reads the meter
frostbitten
returning
trapped with my thinking

blocked in on all sides
the icy walls
fold in on me
forced to see the reflection
looking back at me

go away brightness
banish your glow
i need the shadows
where hidden feelings
quietly cower

another storm coming
madness engulfs me
searching for pen
grasping at paper
salvation

words spilling out
parts of me
buried so skillfully
long ago
finally see light

just for a moment
the respite’s exquisite
then longing for springtime
oh god,
why can’t it rain?

©2016janetaylor
Chelsea Primera Sep 2017
The city spearheads the futures we sincerely sold,
As it pluckers your pennies and your coins of gold.

I felt poor amid the auras of their fearsome metals,
Cowering in the clothes of our daily struggles.

I am destitute enough
To bleach out the interests of my cards,
To shatter your savings for a disabled future,
To rummage the stock markets for apertures.

Yet within you exhales tentacles of the color Yellow.

Yellow as in,
The scattered stars that scorch the injured sky,
The mellowing voices of neon artificial lights,
The apex of fire alight in frostbitten nights,
And the yolk of hope my cheers rely.

So while you chase the sun
with your copper-clad hands,
remember but this:

all that glitters is not gold,
It’s the color Yellow in these eyes I behold.
riley minteer Nov 18
"oh how remarkable",
my front porch says
a welcoming mat,
a porcelain frog,
and a marble foyer

...and i've never been to scandinavian lands
frostbitten icing lines northernmost shores
the cold is brooding,
love will prevail
of course it will always-
but it's just that i choose to employ...
an easy retirement here could suffice

don't interject my utopian dream
a life in a land that i equated to peace
no child, this is not a delusional fleeting
bright-lighted is the sky,
clouds grace high peaks

oh how remarkable
is every lovebird,
oh how remarkable
it is to me...
-riley minteer
“oh how remarkable”
(from “seeds of change”)
Monday, November 18, 2019
Izlecan Oct 2018
Thou tangle the mortality
And seek the mourning of its course,
With an outrageous cloak  that falls adrift
To have its custom afloat.
The decorations,  thereof flatters this turmoil
That has its doubts and moments,
A longevity beheld upon the chores of the subject,
Never cognizes its everlasting trials,
For those of which handles the elation
Of successive falsification.
I know not of the clumsiness of hymns,
That sighs the mourning of a course,
The chaotic iteration of single pauses
And the faltering of a mere *****.
I know not of the turmoil
That bedecks the frostbitten clavicles,
Onto which no sigh wavers
A petition of no faze and any dome.
I know not of the cloak
That nestles around a haze;
Bringing confusion that betrays every vivid sense.
Let it be the matter, ‘tis a matter of time(!)
Would it morph itself around the mourning mould,
When it dries away with the mud?
I let you run your fingers across my wounds,
You asked me the story behind each one,
I whispered them nervously fearing judgement because some of them healed while some still gaped;

And what did you do? You managed to rip open every single one with my consent, plunged in deep to see if I still ran red. Frantically, you withdrew your hand blue and frostbitten; the curiousity hurt didn't it?

I held your hand tender, ran it across my cheek and said " This is what I am" and you said " I love you"
I grinned, taken back, warm by blood seeping around my chest and slowly died.
Third Eye Candy May 2018
in the weeds where the dark bees
believe in dark dreams; savoring the frostbitten
nostalgia of wet mittens and smokestacks
hacking hearth-smog and dingy bitters
against clouds from a nameless
grudge... spawn from downcast holly.
where red berries
gasp for yellow
in the crotch of a wooden Fluegelhorn
sprouting from the branch
of a hedge without
Lips.

But a mouth full of snow.

II

in the weeds where the dark bees
believe in atoms of uncorrupted joy and pollen.
where they collude with silent majorities
and swindle sunlight for a spawnsong
anchored to the beak of a kestrel...
shrieking the maniacal disquiet
of a perfect moment.

rattling the hinges -

adored.

without
a key.
cat marie Aug 2018
when will you realize that everything you
say to me takes a toll on my heart?
my love for you is unwavering, unchanging
and it just goes unnoticed by you.
i feel invisible and invalidated.
i can never tell by your tone of voice
how you feel or what you're thinking.
i want you to tell me how you feel,
tell me what you're thinking.
let me in. just, let me in.
i can't breathe without you,
but you confuse me.
we'll sit and talk for hours,
conversation flowing between us like water,
but it can turn to ice in seconds without warning
and you leave me freezing.
we can be inches, centimeters,
even millimeters apart
and it would still feel like miles.
you and i can't ever be too close,
we intertwine like ivy whenever we can.
but it's not enough, it will never be enough.
you have kept me warm for so long
my body has almost forgotten what it's like to be cold.
almost.
there are days that you remind me how the cold feels
and it terrifies me that i have given you the power to do that.
but even when i am frostbitten,
i let you keep my heart warm.
Eris Oct 2018
Through the white snow
I see a window
Spilt into four
Each showing reflection
Never showing rejection
In any detail
In every section
Within the frame
Of black ebony
You see the envy
In the deadly enemy
Reflective off
The frostbitten ice
From the blizzard snow
As blood red lips blow
Kisses in the snow
Naomi Sa'Rai Jan 30
Icicle limbs
Frostbitten lips
Tell me if this darkness is as good as it gets?
No one said it would last a lifetime
I truly thought it would be hasty
Simply because this defeated broke down mind has been going crazy
Tell me if the abyss is any deeper than this?

I've searched through my vision and I thought my vision was a view
But i've come to realize that my vision was not in view
Icicle palaces
Rain and then there is sun
I've born my soul
Your flesh has won
You drink me like water
My tears are dew
But I'm so tired of yielding to you

Tell me if anything about us was true.
Antarctic shoulder that you gave
Put me in this despair I now name my grave
You chew me and spit me out
Bits and pieces of my heart on the floor
Glaciers become my feet.

Naomi Sa'Rai & Nova
how can you tell me you love me?
you know i know you don't mean it
            i know you don't mean it

just like i knew you didnt know–
            couldnt read the lovesick poetry
                        etched onto the curvature of my pupils
            when you laughed and said "you love me"
because–
            no ones in the business of truth here right?
                        i know whats going on
            we're just pushing jokes real close to the boundary
                        but still no one could trammel up enough evidence
                        to make a case for one or the other

but god if
if you meant it

if you really do love me
then
            i dont think i know who i am
i dont think any of me is left
i think
            i am all evaporated tears by now
            and spent ink

please i hope
i hope you dont mean it

because

this doesnt feel like love ...

id have to forget about you
forget that i ever believed id have it someday
tear down my hope banners and polaroid fantasies
            lists and plans and dreams
because

you told me that i
already have

what i thought i wanted

i guess i had hoped you
wouldnt give it away so easily
            even though i used to wish you would

i hoped id feel enveloped in it
thought id never have to bandage up another frostbitten finger
but i

god
why am i still so
cold?
Lou Romano Nov 15
Within the glow of her half breed heart
she found enough pieces of herself to go on.
While out in the real world time stood still,
waiting for her, yet never looking back

Winter would weep frozen tears before the thawing of spring,
Only then could she emerge from beneath its shimmering coat.

And though yet another season was within her sight
she paled in remorse over past desertions of faith.
If she’d only had the wisdom that is now awakened in her
as she embarked on her journey into that cold, cold night.

Her thoughts her only friend and yet still they pained
with the frostbitten air of her faith’s retaliatory wrath.

On into the night she crept silent amongst the spirits,
the only true guides left for her to follow without worry.
Her own tears now lay in frozen streaks across her face.
Frantically she tries to brush them away, but they cut her.

Bright red flowing life running down painting the snow,
covering the earth, she was leaving with her living memory.

Not much longer could she wait for the spirits to find her again,
to heal her wounds and carry her into a new tomorrow.
She falls to the ground curling herself up into a ball as the last
drops of her mortal life run into the snow. She dies.

The world was silent, nothing not even the wind spoke.
The ice melted, the rivers thawed and the trees lifted.

As spring ignited from out of the life she had left behind,
her beauty was reflected throughout every living thing.
She had given herself back to the earth for renewal,
her spirit now free to roam with the spirits and guide others.

Her wounds no longer capable of holding her back, she flew
out into the dawn of a new day on her new wings of light.
Julian Delia Aug 2018
My heart
Feels like a frostbitten cave nobody should ever go in.
My soul
Feels exhausted, drained and spread really thin.
My mind
Feels like its fighting battles it can never win.

I find my thoughts
Consumed with anger and despair,
Evil feelings who have created a lair –
A base of operations within my mind,
Staring at the world with a terrifying glare.

And yet, despite all this,
Nothing kills me more than being alone.
This need to experience humanity
Is not simply an act of vanity,
Or a call for attention,
But an attempt at reclaiming sanity.

We are the loneliest generation of all time;
Previous overlords used force to rule,
And whoever didn’t follow was lambasted,
Marked as a traitor and a base fool.
Now, force is merely a tool,
One in many of a lethal arsenal.

Social hierarchies are fake, sometimes downright farcical –
Now, we are divided and conquered.
Our communities have collided,
Our love for each other is drained and flustered.
We are armed with shields of prejudice,
Careening towards a perilous precipice
Of watching out only for ourselves,
With no room in our hearts for anyone else.

I just wish I could let go –
I wish I was an atom of boiling water,
About to break free and become steam,
I wish to taste of true freedom,
To at least get one, tiny gleam.
Yet,
I find myself weary, tired and trapped,
A torturous routine so well-travelled
That, at this point, I could say my brain has it mapped.

I close my eyes
And see visions of you I wish I could forget.
I wish I’d looked before I leapt,
Rather than live with this pain and regret.
I close my eyes, and see
Years of seeking somewhere I belong,
Brothers and sisters with whom I can stand strong.
Yet,
All I seem to find
Is people struggling with their daily grind,
Souls that are just as tired as mine, if not more.

And so, I find myself
Dealing with this constant craving,
Ranting and raving,
Hoping that this frosty cave is still open to reclaiming,
Hoping that my soul is still worth saving,
And that my mind still finds this battlefield worth braving.
This feels like the breaking point.
Graff1980 Aug 15
Winter is a cold hunger’s reign
harvesting warmer passions
that are buried beneath
white frosty sheets
and soft fleshy frames.

It is a longing for vitamin D
the nutrient that we need
for adequate levels of energy
and a host of other necessary
****** functions.

It is the time for that crap
cabin fever, dark dreary lethargy
of creeping depression.

Winter is made for forgetting
when warmer days return
like a victorious king,
rising.

Until, time dethrones him
by its frostbitten whims
when that harsh season
begins again.
Snizzlefish Dec 2018
Born from ice,
On a mountain called love.

I know too much pain.
My lungs continuously fill with frost.

I am numb,
Yet I feel everything.

Inhale.
Exhale.

Again.
And again...

Until one day there will be but one.
Be it fire, or ice.

— The End —