Snowday poems on Hello Poetry

Amanda Mayne Feb 2012

Snowday

The day had been set,
And we were all ready--
The crunchy snow was waiting too—
The frigid sky watched us overhead.

Anticipation was building
like steam in the pit of my stomach
We leapt out of the truck
And sunk right into the snow.

After a few kids slid down
The rollercoastering hill,
I went down screaming,
Blurred colors rushed into my eyes.

My tube detached from my ****,
Snow went everywhere:
In my face, down my back
My cheeks were frozen in place.

I arrived at the bottom,
Quicker than I expected,
And waited in the powder
For a snowmobile boy

The contraption roared and sped
I dropped the tube,
And held on for my life,
Then dropped myself too.

We tried again,
With the tube around my middle,
The tube a giant donut
I was the creamy center.

I made up to the top,
Triumphantly soaked from my outside in,
Cheers resounded and bounced
In the valley and off the frozen lake.

Arshia Qasim Ahmad Apr 2017

Snowday

Turn the snowing into poems
and color up a storm...
daunting as it comes to you
and placid when it's gone

Wrap the edges of your thought
encapsulate the cold
Spin magic snowflake carpets
with epics never told

A road runs somewhere through this
though eyes defy my sight
I know, I know you have to go
For now, just hold me tight...

❤️
A
14.3.17

#itgoeson

Keith W Fletcher Oct 2018

Just a bit of grey

You know me much better than i even know myself
But you don't miss me and I'm not lost
As long as you believe I be among all the rest
You gathered up and put upon your shelf
Oh but my days were numbered long ago
When you didn't seem to notice me
When I was so quickly swept up
into the chaos....so abrupt
That did suddenly erupt
And for one quick moment
I was passing through the light
Pulled from the dark place I had been
I don'tt know if you even saw me
Much less recognize me for how I fit in
To the bigger picture of a future where id be
Exactly what you would be needing
Maybe if I were brighter in a flashy way I mean
You'd  have looked closer...but that day
dull and grey. was all you had seen
as the dust-up had yet to settle
you let me go.... but I know
the unique qualities I possess
you will someday miss me and I'm sorry
I couldn't find a way to tell you will need me
I know all the work and effort will be for naught
The future that you picture
Where you have all the pieces put together
There will always be a hole in your horizon
That only I could ever have managed to fill
You never saw my unique qualities
But now without my dull and grey
You sit at the table on.a cold snowy night
Fireplace flickers and krackles smell of cocoa
Wood smoke and pine fills the warm and toasty air
And you close your eyes and your lips purse
Trying to hold back that inevitable curse
" **** it...**** it **** it " came with the release
  Startled is the man reading near the fire
What is it dear...you need some help gluing it to the board
" No look!" She exclaims and begins to cry
For there in the magnificent rainbow colored sunrise.
And the fall colors of burnt umber and orange
Just above the beautiful blue Lake
Beyond the 2 kids with sleds in hand who stand
Watching as the somewhat superimposed
first three Snowflakes arrive  "Snowday"
A hole stands out among the bit of grey
Where the artist needed a backdrop
to make the unique snowflakes pop
I can't find it , had it since I was 10 and I wanted to make it a Christmas display
For the girls she begins to weep but I think I saw it the other day
Oh God I swept it up and threw it away
I should have recognized it with that bit of snowflake passing over the grey.

He held her till she quit  sobbing ..until she stepped back ....saying I'm okay
Then he said "glue it down hon and I'll fix it
I promise " he said" we've got everything here somewhere
you glue and Ill check the garage."
He could see she needed more so he took on
You Know fists on hips and wide stance
Everyone knows that Superman pose
"Don't you worry ma'am I will right this wrong "
And  he did ,after 35 tries,a sleepless nite
8 hours it took him to  replace me
just as dawns first light
rose up
to shine down on me half buried in snow
as if to say everything was right

Isaac Spencer Nov 2018

Snowday

I was young-
     When it happened.

Snow was drifting down from steel skies,
     Tumbling in slow-motion,
   My fingers were numb, my gloves thin.

The neighborhood children all gathered,
     Clad in winter coats, scarfs and mittens.

Across the street from my father's house-
     The neighbors had a tall hill,
   And we would ride our sleds until the sun went down.

I wanted hot cocoa,
     My brother wanted to race.

He told me to stop whining,
     I was the younger brother,
   And he was always right.

Then the snow stopped falling,
     And we knew- I knew something was going to...

I couldn't feel the cold,
     Everything was light, weightless,
   And my feet
      Left...
         The...
            Ground.

I fell,
Faster,
Faster!
And I knew I'd fall back to Earth,
The hill, my friends, my brother grew smaller.

Then, I saw myself-
     Tumbling back down.

I awoke with a start,
     Today we'd be going sledding.
   My brother would want to race.

#winter #horror #nightmare #dream #snow #death

sofolo Mar 2023

SNOWDAY

Look at us go. A gang of four awkward-toothed boys dragging our red bread wagon around. Hometown heroes with bouquets of flour. For a little green, you can slice the cellophane. Yeast in your nose and warm butter dripping.

Biking down Delaware. Left on Broad. Autumn’s vermillion blanket on the ground. John Deere and Orson Welles. Maybe in some fanfiction they were ******* behind the Casey’s General Store. Turning the soil to bury secrets. There’s an art in that. The rottweiler’s snarl is pulled back inside as the door closes.

My cousin lost an eye and I saw it floating in a jar like a marble on his nightstand. When it snowed I wondered if he only saw half of the flakes.

Before you left we each took a sharpie to a dollar bill: “FRIENDS 4 EVER”. Thirty years later it’s still tucked away in a little white box with a Michael Jordan valentine and mirrored blue marble. Something plucked from my childhood and I only remember half of it.

I found an old letter I wrote to you. November 8, 1993. 11:24 a.m. Nineteen minutes after my grandmother died.

“I miss you and hope that I can come visit sometime”

That winter was lonely. I climbed our sledding hill in my moon boots and as I looked across the tundra, I thought: I’m the last hometown hero.

“Ever since you left things have been pretty boring around here and I’ve been stuck in my house reading books”

I flew down that hill in my plastic saucer. The wind pulling every tear from my eyes.

“My pictures are in the envelope, when you write me a letter please write neatly”

When my sled hit the curb on Ridge Road I swear I kept flying. I’d say I never looked back, but that’s all I’ve been doing these days.

Ken Pepiton Feb 2023

The Beginning of the last next

Snowday, too, on top of the Monday Fed Holiday.

Nations are minds made up. Agreements, elders made
with all they made believe.

Let's pretend, after seven decades, we are children,
let us spout off about absolutes and insoluble angst,

natural, in unconstitutional retyings of the national
spirit,
we
the
people most exceptionalistly educated and ---

Confuse, confuse muse and music?
Magnification and magic, majesty and jest, me?

My first thought on waking, or reaction acknowledging,
science, if any thing is sharp, it was made to become so.

Crystal vision, any reader in this medium has,
an attainment,
merit worn
by knowing
words hold
thoughts and thoughts occur in superstringy gnosisnot.

anomaly of copy pastetime

#poe #try

Ken Pepiton Feb 2023

Time and chance, perhaps

Magnification and magic, majesty and jest, me?

My first thought on waking, or reaction acknowledging,
science, if any thing is sharp, it was made to become so.

Crystal vision, any reader in this medium has,
an attainment,
merit worn
by knowing
words hold
thoughts and thoughts occur in superstringy gnosisnot.

Over time, dust is drawn to the tangled web that we wove.
In visibility,
winds paint the Granite wall my bubble occupies,
melting the shallow snow,

enough for a California snowday. My mileau,
my conditioning reflexive zone,
bouncing a thought between reading minds morphing
wishes once thoughts,
aimed
as it were,
at hungry wolves, or troglodytes.

- My Grandfather, Caleb Boyett,
- has blessed me,
- no quest set before has not called
- on know how knots tie and solder mends
- learned from watching him, as a child.
- I was reared in a junk yard,
- with a bunch of happy dogs.

Stela, not
"Stella" from the common programing relative
to Hollywood, see
the sign.

Big-time, Robbie, big time, SHOW
bidness,
be kind.

I don't give a damnabouda greenback dollar,
spent it fast as I could,
or woulda, had I ever sold what must be sold,
to accrue money problems,
or secret stores to protect,
sense of will,
sense of pur- in advance guarding the niche
posed
under superpositioned words we all react on,

pinch of salt,
taken from the spiritual conception developed
as many children must have been set up,
to spill some salt,
so elders could guage,
measure
reaction to instruction, "toss a pinch of the problem
over your left shoulder-
to ward
off any malicious salt protectors mind cry.

Not a lie. In my realm, stories reign supreme,
and those who learn to tell them without lying
seldom prosper
as per standard class-ification projects,
historically called civil-ization.

-- so that's my que, 2023, snow melt negative space
patterns evoke… that word again,
several times today, 10:34
took pictures of the patterns in the snow
that look similar to some level of me,
to rock art in

Time and chance, perhaps I needed the provocation,
common senses, all agree, things occur with no ..... lost threads

Internet ties,
intellectual kin,
in the wildering edgewise meandering mind
we share
in time
we spend thinking thank you for reading my mind.

The we we have is leavenishly small. Mind share, is too rare to price.

#poet #alert

— The End —