"snowpants" poems
They unite!
The swish swish sound of snowpants as sure thighs stride
The crunch of wet snow under boots
The disobedient strands of hair escaped from her mother's tightly braided handiwork
Whipping about according to the wind's will
Runny nose, watering blue eyes, and cheeks reddened to a rosy apple glow by winter's puppy dog nip
Intent on a snowfort and snow angel mission
With no break taken except to quench a thirst once in a while
Eyes close and mittens lift the glorious white mannah
Tongue and mouth delight in the taste of winter that the snow carries deep within her hold
Could any wonder be more beautiful than the bliss of an eight year old on a storm day?
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 2:33 PM UTC
Blessed be your lovely pants
The ones which shield you from cold and wet,
that add girth to your chicken legs,
and make you the man that you are.
A man who is warm, a man who is dry.
A man who, if hit by a flying ice pellet
Will remain unscarred
(as long as it doesn't hit you in the face).
Oops - did I hit your face with this sharp ice pellet?
This wretched season cannot be fought
without the slippery zipping sounds made by your beloved pants.
I will have my parents send your freedom pants immediately.
For I cannot bear the thought of your empty life
Without your trusty snowpants.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
my thighs are burning hot,
these skinny jeans feel like snowpants,
hands shaking ,
putting on a necklace,
can't stop dropping the clasp,
clasping onto breath.
cough gagging.
smelly feet.
electricity in my knees.
the creaking is so loud.
how do you do this?
who bestowed this magic
into your strong delicate hands?
falling into a bat of acid,
born another planet,
pulled the sword from the stone,
where does this power come from?
in a soft smile paired with linen eyes,
iridescent beams through my chest,
pulling on my tongue ,
you find my kryptonite,
and I was never a DC girl myself...
but maybe you are a beautiful mirror,
you reflect the powers of your opponent.
physically rather
than
spiritually
maybe the way you make me feel,
is more a reflection of my power,
exerted into a physicality.
weaves my veins into my bones,
blows up my diaphragm ,
hives on my neck..
the true power is within me, though.
this much love,
coming from a little freckled white girl,
is my greatest weapon.
for you will never feel as deeply as i have.
you will never laugh like i do,
but you will never hurt the same.
what a price to be passionate.
but more importantly.
what a power.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
I’m a virgo
The ******
An earth sign
The seasons on this earth are so beautiful
I wish you could’ve seen the beauty in mine
But you are an aries
The ram
A fire sign
You were always warm
And I was warm too
But at times I could be cold
Rainy
Snowy
Sometimes even stormy
Perhaps that’s why you left
You never felt the need to invest in a rain jacket
Or snow tires
Because when you met me I was all sunshine
And glasses full of lemonade
You had no idea that I was temperate
My seasons were well defined
And when my winter months took you by surprise
You felt the cold creeping onto you
Your warmth refused to compete with my cold
And you left
Come back in a couple weeks
I promise it’ll be different
But just come prepared this time
With your umbrella
And your snowpants
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC