"snowdrop" poems
Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid!
Ever as of old time,
Solitary firstling,
Coming in the cold time,
Prophet of the gay time,
Prophet of the May time,
Prophet of the roses,
Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid!
14.7k
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new
Whose name you meditate --
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little
Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical
Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.
13.4k
So now the changed year’s turning wheel returns
And as a girl sails balanced in the wind,
And now before and now again behind
Stoops as it swoops, with cheek that laughs and burns,—
So Spring comes merry towards me now, but earns
No answering smile from me, whose life is twin’d
With the dead boughs that winter still must bind,
And whom to-day the Spring no more concerns.
Behold, this crocus is a withering flame;
This snowdrop, snow; this apple-blossom’s part
To breed the fruit that breeds the serpent’s art.
Nay, for these Spring-flowers, turn thy face from them,
Nor gaze till on the year’s last lily-stem
The white cup shrivels round the golden heart.
10.8k
We all look forward to the snowdrops
The harbinger of spring
In many shades of white
Offtimes tinged with green
Beautiful, oh so beautiful
Sweeping swathes of green tinged white
But they shrink into nothingness
Against the aconite
Aconite of deepest gold
Brighter than the sun
Aconite the first to show
Amid deep winters gloom
When the aconite first does show
Bluetits start to flit and sing
You see it's not the snowdrop
Who is the harbinger of spring
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 8:42 AM UTC
How amazing to see you
Ahead of your hour
Using your strength
To reveal a small flower.
Like a pure white pearl
Amid emerald blades
Your head peeps through
Winter’s harsh shades.
A courageous act
Pushing through frozen earth
To show me your beauty,
To reveal your true worth.
Stand tall and proud,
Delight me with your charm;
For the merest sight of you
Makes my heart calm.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
Today the winter is not as chill, nor as gray. An azure depth backdrops the "fade"-to-white and the eyes remember what to see beneath patterns that shift and flow. You hear your footsteps and ...feel the silence leave your mind.
"Inside A Snowdrop..."
Driplets - droplets
pitter and pat
echo and float
...and the sun is here
its touching
tracing
edging patterns smooth and
flowing.
Feel the air
- its fingertips grasping
finding each bit of you all at once
...teasing and tickling your cheek,
nose THEN down the throat
filling and growing 'til
becoming an exhale
becoming you out and upon the world.
Feel as each hair lifts and spreads,
gathers and becomes waves eddying and rising free
freefalling and floating and rising again -
riding the unseen exhales as the world
- your world - flows by-and-by
grasping and tasting life
grasping and BEING life for all the other exhales
to find and feel and be felt in turn.
Reach - palm up...
wait
...wait
then
catch a miracle!
- a world within worlds within -
a snowdrop
a single glass to gaze in-and-in
to focus - deep
deeper still
... 'til
I see you
...behind my eyes
and the shadows and shades
surround and enfold
tightening
tighter still...
holding me
gentling me
becoming ...me.
I am lavender ghosting in the air
the taste and sweetness of your skin
the softness of each lil hair flowing by
the lips that found their home on mine.
Breathing is one long purr
and life is gently kneading into the softness
...of you.
Chris
Feb 17, 2012
Feb 17, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
Dogwood shimmers in the late winter light.
Yellow red and in between.
Jenny likes the nearby willow.
The white buds draws her mind
to the later treat
a walk to the snowdrop trail
where upon Peter will renew his vow
one day set up home at Stevenage
so close to Benington Lodge
her favourite indulge
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
A dizzy flake of snow falls,
perfectly balanced, upon
one outstretched finger's squat end.
It clings tight for a second-
a sticky, icy second
where I hold with fragile care
the weak sliver, and my breath.
Yet, the next moment, only
water my digit holds up.
It melts away instantly
with the dry warmth I supply,
and I find that, always, all
the delicate, pretty ones
with exquisite tender grace
burn out ever the fastest, first.
So snowdrop kisses, on the
frosty, red nip of my nose
now only make me shiver.
It's all just skin and ice,
and more ice and skin.
Peels of snow and chips of freeze
make chilled my blood and glazed eyes.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
I. Herself
To be a sweetness more desired than Spring;
A ****** beauty more acceptable
Than the wild rose-tree’s arch that crowns the fell;
To be an essence more environing
Than wine’s drained juice; a music ravishing
More than the passionate pulse of Philomel; -
To be all this ’neath one soft bosom’s swell
That is the flower of life:—how strange a thing!
How strange a thing to be what Man can know
But as a sacred secret! Heaven’s own screen
Hides her soul’s purest depth and loveliest glow;
Closely withheld, as all things most unseen,—
The wave-bowered pearl, the heart-shaped seal of green
That flecks the snowdrop underneath the snow.
II. Her Love
She loves him; for her infinite soul is Love,
And he her lodestar. Passion in her is
A glass facing his fire, where the bright bliss
Is mirrored, and the heat returned. Yet move
That glass, a stranger’s amorous flame to prove,
And it shall turn, by instant contraries,
Ice to the moon; while her pure fire to his
For whom it burns, clings close i’ the heart’s alcove.
Lo! they are one. With wifely breast to breast
And circling arms, she welcomes all command
Of love,—her soul to answering ardours fann’d:
Yet as morn springs or twilight sinks to rest,
Ah! who shall say she deems not loveliest
The hour of sisterly sweet hand-in-hand?
III. Her Heaven
If to grow old in Heaven is to grow young,
(As the Seer saw and said,) then blest were he
With youth forevermore, whose heaven should be
True Woman, she whom these weak notes have sung.
Here and hereafter,—choir-strains of her tongue,—
Sky-spaces of her eyes,—sweet signs that flee
About her soul’s immediate sanctuary,—
Were Paradise all uttermost worlds among.
The sunrise blooms and withers on the hill
Like any hillflower; and the noblest troth
Dies here to dust. Yet shall Heaven’s promise clothe
Even yet those lovers who have cherished still
This test for love:—in every kiss sealed fast
To feel the first kiss and forebode the last.
5.7k
What's on your mind?
in facebook you constantly find
This quote always flashes
to remind you of life's rushes
But seriously, look within
and see what thrives inside
Look for thoughts sinking in
and bade them all to come alive
Make your words artful
as that drip of ink caresses the paper
Make them a phrase so wonderful
That people may be happier
Inspire people who has no idea
and save ones that are lost
Open the curiosity jar like Pandora
and let's HOPE we make the most
From dreams in paper
to songs of unending summers
From snowdrop love letters
to eulogies of sorrowful winters
From the heart through the mouth
leave a print of beauty behind
Be it raw, bare or shouting out
never be afraid to speak "What's on your Mind"
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
The trellis of oak trees winked,
captured my soul in a spinney,
chalked whispers of free promises
breathy like a silken shawl trailing
Those wise men of old, withered
skin of bark, tall and strong, waving
their introduction. They bowed to me
in free form, in humble escapism.
Sun had stroked their warm palms,
fed them sweet sap. To my left a
stray leaf, rested amid invisibility,
caught the air train, and spiralled free.
Twizzled to the green painted rug
basking under my cotton covered feet.
Reaching out, it blew away,
I chased the freedom fields.
The brook teased it and set
sail under the woody bridge,
green from seasonal tears.
Lost sight as it spun the space
between us. The grass sprung
its beginnings in full Spring, tall in parts,
summer not yet wrapped and
ready to visit us, much less
invited to the summer ball
where shadows are ten a penny,
and sunshine bought on every
street corner. I am among spring
devoured in daffodil eiderdowns,
elbowing out the crocus, snowdrop
chandeliers. I seagull my way,
swaying in step with willow, blossoming
surprising myself, how I let go of
school day shivers, tinkering my brain
into gear for terms talking tightness,
cramming commas, fat full stops.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
The weathermen were not prepared,
the storm turned West towards the shore
For eighteen hours it came down
in blinding sheets three feet and more.
It buried cars, it covered streets
It weighted down branches
on the trees, it dusted roofs
It snarled the roads, The winter
storm did as it pleased
When it was done, the air was calm
a cold serene and peaceful scene.
The snow in drifts lay on the ground
as I looked upon what once was green.
Then, as whiteness overawed the earth
A single red snowdrop appeared.
It briefly touched the snow draped earth
then rose again towards heaven's sphere
then one by one, here and there
flakes disengaged and rose on high
until all the snow that was earthbound
in blinding flight had disappeared.
In a flash, the snow was gone
The fields of earth once more were green
No traces of the storm remained
like a half remembered dream.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 10:58 PM UTC
I still taste like April in the month of May
and he crossed December as a state-line
long before I knew that time could be a place
but it is beautiful being ahead of the game:
catch the curls of autumn, snowdrop waves
make me prefer honeysuckle eyes anyway
they make me want to become his May babe.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
Deep on the convent-roof the snows
Are sparkling to the moon:
My breath to heaven like vapour goes;
May my soul follow soon!
The shadows of the convent-towers
Slant down the snowy sward,
Still creeping with the creeping hours
That lead me to my Lord:
Make Thou my spirit pure and clear
As are the frosty skies,
Or this first snowdrop of the year
That in my ***** lies.
As these white robes are soil'd and dark,
To yonder shining ground;
As this pale taper's earthly spark,
To yonder argent round;
So shows my soul before the Lamb,
My spirit before Thee;
So in mine earthly house I am,
To that I hope to be.
Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,
Thro' all yon starlight keen,
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,
In raiment white and clean.
He lifts me to the golden doors;
The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,
And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates
Roll back, and far within
For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,
To make me pure of sin.
The sabbaths of Eternity,
One sabbath deep and wide--
A light upon the shining sea--
The Bridegroom with his bride!
4k
I
How should I seek to make a song for thee
When all my music is to moan thy name?
That long sad monotone - the same - the same -
Matching the mute insatiable sea
That throbs with life's bewitching agony,
Too long to measure and too fierce to tame!
An hurtful joy, a fascinating shame
Is this great ache that grips the heart of me.
Even as a cancer, so this passion gnaws
Away my soul, and will not ease its jaws
Till I am dead. Then let me die! Who knows
But that this corpse committed to the earth
May be the occasion of some happier birth?
Spring's earliest snowdrop? Summer's latest rose?
II
Thou knowest what asp hath fixed its lethal tooth
In the white breast that trembled like a flower
At thy name whispered. thou hast marked how hour
By hour its poison hath dissolved my youth,
Half skilled to agonise, half skilled to soothe
This passion ineluctable, this power
Slave to its single end, to storm the tower
That holdeth thee, who art Authentic Truth.
O golden hawk! O lidless eye! Behold
How the grey creeps upon the shuddering gold!
Still I will strive! That thou mayst sweep
Swift on the dead from thine all-seeing steep -
And the unutterable word by spoken.
3.9k
I sink, my feet slowly becoming part of the earth softened under the heat of my body and a shy sun rolling evenly on horizon. Lazy sun slowly extends his arms stiff from winter reluctance and expanding them into a hug. I see green meadows, still poor with colors, pale spring messengers and Harlequin's face in the glass reflection. Eyes full of ice slowly melting, just as piles of snow hidden in the spring shadows. I sink deeper into the trap of needs. My hands have become bare spring branches and wait for your smile to bloom touches. Delicate greenish flowers and young leaves will slowly wake up your eyes from the winter gloom, gentle kisses will tickle your throat and nostrils. My hands are empowered, illusive fingers gliding over your breast. I feel the beauty of the Snowdrop and already lured with memories of Violets. You open slowly like a red Tulip. Tulips are too simple for you. I see beauty of Cyclamen bathed in dew of hidden alley and I think only of sweet kisses you give. As I dive in you the Earth is not just a lump of mud in the universe and the water is not just a matter which makes it blue. While tears running down your cheeks you say they have decided themselves to come and not knowing why. Then, I stand little before you. The boy filled with dreams. Then I stand bigger than the Earth before you as you are more than water.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
Mind of mine, you alien child.
I spoon-fed you for many years.
I pretended it was a plane in some cases
and the things you spat out
I fed to you again.
Mind of mine, you shadow of a melody.
Homeless drifter on the A41
with a 5 stringed guitar and no common sense.
Begging for a shoelace to tie on
whilst you go hungry.
Mind of mine, you nervous gun clip.
You know you’re unloaded
so your barrel droops like a snowdrop.
No hippie can put a flower in you.
and your shakes are breaking my wrist.
Mind of mine, you scar butterfly-collector.
Snatching red admirals with a chameleon tongue
and when you stitch them in
their red eyes close on dusty wings.
I know you’re lying when you can’t feel a thing.
Mind of mine, You’re a ****** full of love
and a belly full of drugs.
Positive negative flip, as love is in electrics
and you’re still such a bad liar
to tell me it’s anything else.
Mind of mine,
I can be such a bad parent to you
and an even worse child.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
Give me a spring morning, far from winter’s troubles.
On an earth axis-turned toward the life-giving sun.
Announce it with tulips and trumpets of yellow daffodils.
Watch as young, colorful, impressionist, bluebell,
dogwood, snowdrop, and primrose blossoms preen,
in the candid radiance of the abaxial springtime sun.
Enjoy new life dancing, playfully on tactile wafts of warm air.
Inhale that air, freshly fragranced by flowers in luscious bloom.
Catch the bright chirp of new life and hear the humble
buzz of bees hard at their work, spreading the pollen of life.
Then lengthen these hopeful, verdant days, like a blessing.
Mar 19, 2023
Mar 19, 2023 at 1:48 PM UTC
Remember me in spring when blossom's blush
and petals flair a - light in morning mists
that'll haze a rainbow hue - of flowered plush
to portrait mine as every bud untwists.
Upon the birding bath as robins splay
the warbling chirp shall voice as tho' from me
for you my sweet, in springtime bloom of may
shall hear the larking flute of my decree.
The dancing leaves shall tap and Ivy's birth
and Snowdrop's bow as daisy eyes unveils
as fragrant, olive air shall scent of mirth
that once were lost, now shrines as spring prevails.
Vernal rebloom shall stream that pulse of mine
then seek that earthly glow, and there I'll shine.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 3:39 AM UTC
having searched for the word,
head reels across the room.
the path was mud, the willow cut
back to stump.
the memory remains.
snowdrop’s green
appears.
this is not bethlehem.
sbm.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
Winter has a joy for me,
While the Saviour's charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,
In the snowdrop's pensive head.
Spring returns, and brings along
Life-invigorating suns:
Hark! the turtle's plaintive song
Seems to speak His dying groans!
Summer has a thousand charms,
All expressive of His worth;
'Tis His sun that lights and warms,
His the air the cools the earth.
What! has autumn left to say
Nothing of a Saviour's grace?
Yes, the beams of milder day
Tell me of his smiling face.
Light appears with early dawn,
While the sun makes haste to rise;
See His bleeding beauties drawn
On the blushes of the skies.
Evening with a silent pace,
Slowly moving in the west,
Shews an emblem of His grace,
Points to an eternal rest.
2.4k
another day of vinegar soaked
words.
another play on keys, as we drift
through winter days.
curtains dragged across the gloom,
early, yet while light lingers later,
we wander to the snowdrop drift, hear
the last bird call.
hear the dog at pentre farm, barking.
later hear the water fall from
broken drain pipes.
soon it is february, lighter
nights.
sbm.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:40 AM UTC
The maiden with the bitten heart.
The chiselled one made out of ice.
Melted by a super nova.
From the starkness.
Out of darkness.
There so appeared the peeping green of snowdrop leaves.
Little white flowers trying hard to scratch the surface.
To bridge the pain of what once was.
The river simmers.
If water were able to burn,so sure they should be burning now.
Running beneath the bridge.
The bridge that sighs under the weight of the world.
The water holds it's passion tight,
So be it, let it burn.
just before it says goodbye.
Sends it to the estuary
Running wild
frothing free.
May the sea freeze.
Amen.
(C)LIVVI
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
having searched for the word,
head reels across the room.
the path was mud, the willow cut
back to stump.
the memory remains.
snowdrop’s green
appears.
this is not bethlehem.
sbm.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
I'm roaring towards the sun,
in an aluminum bubble.
My spirit, lacks wings, to fly
but there's a spoiler,
fitted, to the silvery minivan's frame.
So, we drive down the day...
coldly harmonious,
as it glitters back,
in mild flashes.
Memory, is stagnant;
flecks of it shine, back, at me--
capsules, of captured thought,
suspended movement...
the world, itself, becomes gelatinous.
The park, where I almost--
the long-absent faces,
of growing boys, and girls,
concealing toothy monsters.
Unsung heroes, and wandering bards...
Freezing sidewalks,
slanting homes...
places I knew, so well;
they stand, still,
and appear to register
no change, and no difference.
Christ, with his pale, pinned arms,
and pain-stricken face,
gazes down, on all these sins
a placid totem,
on his marbled cross...
an overgrown snowdrop,
crying mildly,
into polluted grasses, below.
A sweet song, emits
from surrounding speakers
and it becomes tangled,
in its own chords.
It breaks, in my throat,
like tinted glass...
and suddenly,
my eyes, are full,
of flooding,
unshed tears.
Their sorrow, needles
at sore, spent cheeks.
The rain, which pinks, soft clay
is hard, and salted,
and as it beats down, onto my skin,
I can feel the sunlight working
its gentle,
tumble-dry magic,
and finessing them clean, again.
I turn my face, away
to stare out, silent,
through the unbroken window.
I'm sobbing, harder, now,
and I have no idea,
how I started...
or why,
it won't stop...
but still, the rain,
rolls down shaky gutters;
unrepentant,
and unrepressed.
The wild weeds, of the garden,
are well-fed, indeed
yet overwatered,
beneath leaky clouds,
and graying seams.
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 6:46 AM UTC